Midnight Unbound(42)
It was a beautiful evening in Potenza. Cool and breezy, the rolling vineyard hills and soft, cool grass of the lawn beneath his bare feet cast in the mystical blue of twilight. He inhaled the scent of turned, fertile earth and sweet Aglianico grapes.
The scent of home.
Pietro’s giggles as Scythe sent him on another ride on the swing only fortified his contentment. And then there was Chiara.
“You two better think about coming in soon. The movie is about to start.”
His mate’s voice washed over him like soothing summer rain.
He turned and waved to her where she rocked in her own swing on the porch. A light shawl covered her shoulders, and her rich brown hair was piled in a loose bun on top of her head. His blood pulsed with desire. With love so deep it made him shake with the urge to cross the lawn and sweep her off to bed with him.
Would he ever tire of having her?
His pulse responded with a resounding, “Never.”
“We’ll be right in,” he called back to her with a smile.
“One more push, Papa, please?” Pietro pleaded.
Scythe squeezed his eyes closed, his throat going tight. When they had returned to the vineyard from Rome and Pietro had learned that Scythe would be staying with them from then on, the little boy had gone very quiet. Chiara had explained that she and Scythe were mated, and that now they would be a family.
Pietro had been confused. “What do I call him?” he’d asked. Chiara handled it beautifully and with the utmost grace, as she did most things. She’d told her son that he should call him Scythe, and, then, perhaps someday, if he wanted to choose another name to call Scythe, he could do that when he was ready.
It had only been a week ago that Pietro had announced he didn’t want to call him Scythe anymore, but he’d already had one father, and he was gone now. The boy thought what he could really use was a Papa. Would Scythe want to be his Papa?
Scythe had been moved more deeply than he thought possible. Hell, he still hadn’t quite come to terms with it. After all the loss and suffering he’d known, this family was healing him more every day.
How strange that only a few short months ago, he’d viewed bonding and growing attached to others as a form of slavery... just another chain to hold him down, to weaken him. But the truth was, Chiara and her young son had set him free.
They had given his life meaning.
Soon, he would have one more reason to be grateful to his lovely, remarkable Chiara.
He couldn’t keep his gaze from straying to her as she got up from the porch swing and stood. Her hand rested lovingly atop the bump of her belly where their child was growing. Her smile reached out to Scythe, bridging the distance. Calling him home to the heaven that awaited him inside the villa with her.
“Come on, Papa! One more time, please?”
Scythe scrubbed his hand through his short beard, then grabbed hold of Pietro’s swing. “All right, son. But you’d better hang on tight. This time, you’re going to touch the clouds.”