Page 303 of Venom Sweeter than Honey
I shake my head, dispelling the thought. Violette would never live in the suburbs.
Mors reappears a moment later, carrying a tray with glasses and a carafe of sparkling water. Persephone arrives shortly behind him wearing a long flowy dress.
Waddling.
Her breasts, once a small palmful, are notably larger.
A gust of wind blows in from the open windows, momentarily plastering her loose-fitting dress to the front of her body and revealing her tight, round abdomen.
Sacred fuck.
My lips part in shock and awe as emotion fists my heart so fucking tight I fail to draw breath.
Persephone’s hands curve protectively around the base of her belly as she gives me a cautious smile. “Azrael..."
Mors waits at the foot of the steps, tray in one hand as he offers the other to Persephone to guide her down the steps.
“You’re pregnant... ,” I say dumbly.
She huffs softly, as her hand slides into Mors’ and she shuffles down the steps. “Oh? I hadn’t noticed.”
Mors offers me a knowing, compassionate smile. “We’re five months.”
The swallowing back of my emotion is audible. My words reduced to a breathy murmur. “Lazarus–”
At Mors’ arched brow, I clarify. “The other... me... hadn’t mentioned it.”
Mors shrugs. “Time..."
Passes differently here,he doesn’t bother to finish.
For several too long moments, I find myself speechless, and a helpless bystander to the oscillating emotions storming through me.
My mind travels back to Tempus, when he revealed to me and Persephone the fate of our union, and the ender of worlds to whom she would give birth. My eyes return to Mors. Sweet, gentle, giant Mors... That isn’t to say he isn’t one of the most powerful gods in all of creation.
But of coursehewouldn’t be the father of damnation.
Longing fills my chest so swiftly, it steals my breath.
After Tempus, I never dared allow myself to wonder what having children would be like. To have a family. To experience such... union. Much less desire such a thing.
But for this fleeting moment, I do.
I imagine Violette, spread out beneath me and accepting my seed for the purpose of creation.
I imagine her stomach swelling. Her pretty cheeks rounding.
I imagine massaging her sore feet. Doting upon her. Cooking for her and our growing child inside her. Lavishing her in every ounce of love and luxury I have to offer.
I imagine holding her hand, soothing her sweat-soaked brow as I tell her how proud she has made me. How grateful I am for her and the child that she has given us as her womb contracts with agonizing pain, and our child enters the world.
I imagine holding Violette in my arms as our youngling suckles from her breast.
And then images of my child destroying the world begin to bleed in.
A delicate handslides over my forearm, pulling me out of my daydream turned nightmare. “Az... are you alright?”
It’s only then that I realize tears are streaking down my face.
