Chapter 250

Almara’s Pov

5 Years Later

“Cheers,” Arthur sys clinking his mixed drink of vodka and lemonade with my non-alcoholic lemonade. I’m pregnant, again. This pregnancy is completely different than my first two, I actually get to relax. Which is exactly what we’re doing in the manicured garden of our backyard.

We sit stretched out on zero-gravity pool chairs, sweat dripping down our drinks, and sun soaking into our skin. Grace who is now eleven years old swims laps in the pool, she’ll be doing that until we call her in for dinner. She just doesn’t get tired.

My sweet baby Robbie is now five, infatuated and intensely curious with the world around him. He’s in his kiddie pool with all sorts of elements from the earth he’s collected to study: leaves, rocks, sticks, flowers, and bugs all under the scrutiny of a magnifying glass.

“What are you looking for there, bud?” Arthur calls out to him.

Robbie lifts his head, keeping the magnifying glass up to his eye so that his right eye seems to take up the entire surface of his face. I nearly choke on my drink of laughing. Robbie looks at me completely unaware that he’s the reason for my coughing fit.

“I don’t know, when I find it I’ll let you know,” Robbie says and gets back to work.

Arthur tries to hide his smile and responds to his son in all seriousness “You got it, boss,”

Arthur looks at me with the same look he always gives when one of our children does something cute or funny. I can’t quite pinpoint it, but I know it’s the reason we keep having more children.

I lean back in my chair and sip on my drink, reflecting on what my life is now. Simple, is the first word that comes to mind but that isn’t necessarily accurate. In fact, our lives are just as hectic as always just without all the war and conflict.

The school is back open and running, busier than ever and it’s about to get even crazier with enrollment season just around the corner. We’ve hired some more staff, but even with the extra help we might need to open a second building.

Arthur is eager for this as he’s been crafting his carpentry skills. I think back on that first treehouse he built with my father it’s probably a bit rotted at this point with the years of neglect.

My parents are still living in their community, they’ve become somewhat of town heroes there. My father's ankle never did heal right, luckily though it seems that an all-out war is out of the realm of possibility.

We haven’t heard a peep from the vampires or the familiars. Rumors are spreading that the familiars may try to infiltrate the human world, though that has nothing to do with us and the Hurricane Pack already declared neutrality.

Maybe that’s cruel, the humans wouldn’t stand a chance against the familiars. But, we’ve all suffered so much loss from that war we must focus on repopulating. Just then, the little baby inside of me gives a kick and I smile and rub my belly.

This baby always seems to know when I’m thinking about him or her. Still, all of that is just speculation and I try not to get so wrapped up in it. Even if the media continues to spin stories and always wants an inside scoop of what’s happening next. “Life,” is the answer I always give.

Arthur and Roman are also busy with red-carpet events and media presses. Sometimes I join along, sometimes I bring the kids if it’s a charity event, but mostly I like to leave them out of the limelight.

Arthur too has cut back on all the big-fame and fortune media pursuits with his father. In a way they’ve cut ties. They still see one another, but now when they do it’s more family-focused than business-centered.

Roman is a bit upset that he doesn’t have another son to take over the empire at full capacity as he does, but that’s something he’ll have to learn to deal with. The way I see it, Bess would prefer our lives be more family-centered anyway.

Speaking of loved ones, Cathy has moved away. She was one of the many wolves who decided to take advantage of the newly expanded territory to create her own community. She said she wants a fresh start. I miss her like crazy, but she deserves that.

We talk on the phone a lot, she video calls at least once a week, mostly to see the kids. She says she has her eyes on this one young lone wolf in her community, but she’s waiting for him to pursue her.

Which, of course, he will. Cathy is a knockout. It’s just a matter of time, and I already told her I was going to be her maid of honor. “Duh,” Cathy responded. Arthur says whenever he meets this man he’ll ask him to be his beta.

Arthur still hasn’t picked anyone yet, which of course always gives the media something to speculate about and to run polls in trashy magazines. Fan letters pour in explaining why Arthur should pick one of them to be his Beta, many of who had fought in the war.

It’s that very reason Arthur hasn’t picked anyone yet. Whenever he makes a statement about it, he always says as far as he’s concerned all who fought with him and for him are his Beta.

“Mom, watch me!” Grace calls out just before she cannonballs into the pool with enough force for our legs to be sprinkled with water.

Her head bobs up and I’m cheering her n, but quickly stop when I see her face twisted in pain. “Are you okay?” I ask sitting up in my seat. Grace comes hobbling over. “Let me see,” I tell her.

She holds out her elbow to reveal a scrape. “I hit it on the bottom of the pool,” Grace says wincing as she touches the wound, some blood rolling down her forearm. She’s still learning the weight of her strength.

We stopped taking her to doctors for analysis for obvious reasons, despite the many free offers, but I have always wondered why she is so far advanced. I know she’s of royalty blood, but there has to be more.

My eyes become fixated on the singular roll of blood that drips off her arm and lands in my lemonade. “Oh! I’m sorry, mom. I didn’t see I was bleeding,” She says as she pulls her gaze from her also scratched-up leg.

“It’s all right,” I say with a smile, “You came from my blood anyway,” I tell her and as I do my mind formulates a distant memory. One from many years ago, when Grace was still in my womb.

I collect the puzzle pieces and stick them together. The drop of blood, the drink, being pregnant. There was a time when I was held captive by a slimy vampire. “Noah,” I whisper just barely audibly under my breath.

I look at Grace quizzically while she dabs at her wounds with a towel. I study her and I wonder, I almost stop the thought from fully formulating.

But I can’t keep it out of my mind for too long. Could that drop of blood in that drink that Noah gave me that put me in a coma have seeped into Grace's bloodstream and also made her part vampire? An unsettling feeling lodges itself in the pit of my stomach.

It would explain her strength, speed, and quick rate at which she can learn. It’s possible, I realize. I sink back into my seat and let the weight of that realization rest upon me. Still, I don’t love her any less, and we’ll never know for sure. I’ll never have her tested.

“Did you say something?” Arthur asks looking at me with furrowed brows over his sunglasses. I wipe the concentration from my face and put on a relaxed demeanor.

“Just how special our family is,” I tell him. Arthur takes a sip from his drink and when he thinks I’m no longer looking, he peers over at Grace.

“That it is,” he agrees, “That it is.”