Alpha of Nightmares
“But not like this.”
It took nearly half an hour, three false alarms, and one diaper change before Gwen and Christina finally gave in to sleep.
Gwen surrendered first, one tiny fist tucked near her cheek, her crescent moon birthmark hidden beneath the soft cotton of her sleeper. Christina fought harder, staring at Alec with heavy-lidded suspicion. At the same time, he stood beside her crib with the patience of a male who had survived wars, politics, and André’s entire childhood.
“Sleep, piccolo sole,” Alec murmured, his voice low and firm. “Your mamma needs rest, and I do not negotiate with infants.”