Chapter One Hundred Eight: His Everything
594 Words
-----Axton’s POV-----
He stood in the nursery doorway longer than he realized.
Luca’s breathing was soft, even. Just the rise and fall of a tiny chest. A tiny miracle.
The crib creaked faintly as the baby shifted, the pale blue blanket scrunched near his chin. Axton reached out, adjusted it gently. Fifth time in the last ten minutes. Maybe sixth. He’d lost count.
He never thought something so small could shake him like this.
He’d walked into war zones without flinching. Torn men apart with his bare hands. Lived in shadows, breathed in danger, and ruled it.
But this?
This little bundle in the crib?
Terrifying.
And sacred.
Axton’s hands hovered protectively over the railing, unsure whether to reach down or just watch. He was afraid to touch him again. Afraid he’d wake him. Afraid he wouldn’t be able to let go.
God, he was beautiful.
Tiny fists curled against his cheeks. Fuzzy brown hair like Helen’s. Nose that everyone said looked like Axton’s. The thought made his chest squeeze.
It was real. All of it.
He’d spent years obsessed with Helen from afar. Protecting her from shadows. Planning her safety like a mission he hadn’t yet been invited on.
Now, here she was.
His wife.
The mother of his child.
And somehow, miraculously, she had given him this.
He bent down slightly, brushing a fingertip over Luca’s hand. The baby stirred, cooing.
Axton whispered. “You’re safe, little man. I’ve got you.”
The words broke something open inside him.
His throat felt thick. His heart… full.
He didn’t notice Helen step into the room until her arms slid around his waist from behind.
She rested her head between his shoulder blades.
“He’s got your cheeks,” he murmured, voice low, reverent.
Helen’s smile warmed against his back. “You said that about Lily.”
“And I am right about that, too.”
He turned slowly, cradling her face in his palms.
“Thank you,” he whispered, voice rough. “For him. For them. For everything.”
Her eyes shimmered. “You’re welcome. But you earned it.”
He didn’t deserve her.
But damn if he wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life proving her right.
His kiss was slow. Deep. A promise.
Then he swept her into his arms.
“Axton—” she gasped.
“Shhh. Let me show you what you mean to me.”
He carried her down the hall like she weighed nothing.
Into their bedroom.
Set her down with a gentleness no one would believe from a man with hands like his.
She looked up at him—hair a mess, body soft and still healing, eyes full of love.
He ached with it.
He undressed her like she was holy.
Kissed every mark.
And when he dropped to his knees before her, brushing his lips over her thighs, she moaned his name.
He worshipped her with his mouth, hands, and the softest touch of a toy she once blushed at.
Three times he brought her over the edge.
Each one slower. Deeper. Hungrier.
Her voice was broken by the end, fingers tangled in his hair, legs trembling.
He kissed her belly again, then her mouth.
“Mine,” he whispered against her lips.
“Yours,” she breathed.
And when she fell asleep against his chest, safe and spent, he stared at the ceiling, one arm curled around her.
The house was quiet.
Luca was sleeping.
The girls were safe.
And Axton Creed, ex-enforcer, obsessive protector, killer of monsters…
Was home.
- Writer
