Chapter 438: "You were Astral?"_Part 2
Being a parent could be one of the hardest things in the world, and Rohan realized it now as he tried to make up for what he had done wrong to his son, all the while wanting to know what had happened to his wife while she was gone in that state.
Deep in his heart, he had always held on to the fear of being a terrible father to his son one day. He had wanted to be nothing but a role model, but with a life like theirs, where many things weren’t certain, it was hard keeping things in order. His son was angry at him, the kind of anger that didn’t even show on his face or in his eyes, just silent.
The worst kind of anger. Rohan knew that without his wife, he would be nothing, and this had proven it once again. Belle was the string holding their little family together, the one who kept him grounded and made him a better man. Without her, he would not only be a bad father but also a man without direction or care for anyone else in his life. She brought out the best in him, the good he often forgot existed. Without her presence, he didn’t know who he was or what to do with himself.
Rohan found himself in the kitchen preparing food for his wife and son, making pudding for the boy to appease him. He cooked without help from Rav or Evenly, who had volunteered to assist. If Rohan had been in the right state of mind, he would have noticed that something was terribly wrong with Rav, that he looked too pale and the rhythm of his heart no longer beat the same. But looking at him once, no one would have guessed he was sick. Rav hid it well.
When Rohan finished cooking, he carried the food on a tray to their room, where Belle was consoling Angel and trying to convince him that his father hadn’t meant what he did when she was not there.
"Papa no min An-jo bad?"
"Yes," Belle whispered, stroking his head. "Will you talk to papa now?"
He was silent for a moment and then he frowned remembering how his father had hurled him away from his mother and warned him with a mean expression. Angel’s expression hardened.
"No, tawk. No..." Angel shook his head stubbornly. "No wan tawk."
Belle lifted her eyes toward her husband standing in the doorway, her expression weary and resigned. She had tried her best, but their son was stubborn and wanted to believe what his little mind had already convinced him to think, that his father didn’t want him.
After trying more than once that night, Angel finally allowed his father to hold him and feed him his pudding. But even as he ate, he still held those grudging looks in his artificial red eyes.
"You’re not the fast-forgiving kind, are you, Max?" Rohan asked, only to be met with a sharp glare from the little boy’s eyes.
"No tawk."
"Alright then," Rohan said with a faint sigh, "no talk, just eat your meal."
Watching them, Belle, who sat leaning against the headboard, recalled what the Elder Reaper had said. Her son was not only part demon and vampire but also part reaper. A being like that could become immensely powerful, perhaps even more dangerous than his father, and should never have been allowed to exist if she hadn’t meddled with fate in the past.
What she had done had changed the course of things, disrupted the natural order of the world, and given life to a completely different kind of creature, one that should have been impossible to exist.
Angel was a whole different kind of being on his own, Belle thought as she watched her husband and son. Her heart felt full just staring at them, and she was struck by the realization that even if she could turn back the hands of the clock, she would still make the same mistakes, just to have these two in her life.
And yet, to protect the mistake that had become her greatest joy, she now had to do the most despicable things. Her heart tightened at the thought.
Rohan wiped his thumb against his son’s lips, and Belle smiled faintly as Angel finally leaned to rest his head against his father. But her smile slowly fell away at the gravity of her thoughts.
When she was a reaper, Belle thought as her gaze drifted to Rohan, she had felt an unexplainable attachment to him, one that shouldn’t have existed in a creature of the dead. She had wanted to protect him at all costs and had longed to see him again if she ever became human. Fate had guided her back to him on the very day her near-death experience shattered her illusion during the rogue attack on their carriage.
As Astral, she had never believed that, once reborn as a human, there would be reasons strong enough to make her want to stay that way, or to want to avoid perishing for her past crimes. But now she did. She would endure anything, bear any punishment that wouldn’t take her away, just to remain human.
Rohan rocked his son until the boy’s eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep in his arms. He went to put him down in his crib and then stared at the peaceful expression on the boy’s face, feeling like he didn’t deserve to be a father to an innocent being such as this. But he swallowed the feeling, pulled the curtains around the crib, and turned to find his wife watching him keenly.
"Are you all right?" Rohan asked. He made no attempt to walk toward her.
Belle nodded and then opened her arms, gesturing for him to come closer. He walked up to her and stood at the side of the bed, hands thrust into his pockets with lips pressed into a tight line, a gesture Belle had come to know was his way of hiding emotions he didn’t want to surface or let her see.
She reached out her hand and pulled at his sleeve to bring him down. He didn’t resist and went willingly as she pulled him into her arms, and then he lay down with his head pillowed on her breasts. He closed his eyes, breathing her in for comfort.
They didn’t speak for a long while. The sound of the heavy rain outside hit the window, and light thunder rumbled in the distance.
"I don’t think I was ever meant to be a father, Isa... our son and any future child we might have could end up despising me the way I despise mine. I love you too much to share that love equally with another being, even if it’s the child we made together. I can’t have anyone in my heart the way I have you. You hold a place no one else ever could, and I hate to admit that even though I love Angel, it doesn’t compare to what I feel for you. How can a man like that ever be a good father?"
His bittersweet words filled her with a deep feeling, left her throat aching as she curled around him, held his head protectively, and felt him breathe against her skin.
"There is never a handbook for being a good father," Belle murmured softly, her fingers brushing through his hair. "All a man can do is love his child the best way he knows how. And you do, Rohan. You love him in your own way. Maybe you don’t see it, but you’re already the father he needs, because you’re trying, even when you’re afraid you’ll fail, unlike yours who never tried."
She threaded her hands through his hair and felt him grow still with pleasure. She raked her nails over his skull in long, slow sweeps... time... and time... and time again, lifting his scent, memorizing it, impressing it forever on her senses. His hair was thick, it had grown much more longer since she’d cut it, reaching below his neck where she brushed it up from his nape, then smoothed it before beginning another long, sensuous stroke at the crown of his head.
He shivered and made a sound of gratification deep in his throat.
His whole life he’d longed for someone to touch him this way, to touch the boy in him as well as the man, to soothe, to reassure. And the only person who had ever done it was his Isa. No one else. The feel of her fingers in his hair brought back a measure of all he’d missed. He was parched earth, she fresh rain. He, a waiting vessel; she, rich wine. In those moments of closeness, she filled him, filled all the lacks endowed him by his abandoned, loner’s life, becoming at once all the things he’d needed.
When he felt sated, he lifted his head as if drunk with pleasure and looked into her eyes that were gazing down at him.
"Do you know no one else has ever touched or stroked my hair the way you always do? The way you assure me of things?" he remarked with deep affection in his eyes that locked with hers.
Belle smiled tenderly. "And did you know I enjoy doing so? I like to wash your hair, comb it, rub your back, hold your—"
His mouth stopped her words. It seemed risky to accept too much after coming so close to the edge of being without her.
He kissed her, gratitude changing swiftly to the lushness of fresh-sprung love. He braced higher and pushed her softly into the pillow, letting his hand rove over her neck and shoulder, suckling her mouth, spreading his fingers on her face, resting a thumb so near it almost became part of the kiss.
His body beckoned to join more fully in this union. Realizing this was not the right time and moment, he broke the kiss but spanned her throat with his hand. Her pulse beat against his fingers, matching the quickness of his own.
"Tell me what happened. How did you come back? How come you turned out to be the dead one? What happened when you were gone for days?" He searched her eyes with the desperation of a man too afraid to lose the only thing keeping him sane and alive. He had wanted to ask since, but his fears had made him postpone the topic until now.