The Dragon's Pregnant Mate (Shifter Dads, #4)

by Chant, Zoe

  Which Malachi was not noticing.

  She set her book aside, and caught him looking at the cover. She smiled a little ruefully. “It was in the gift basket. I thought I’d give it a try.”

  “And...how is it?” he asked. Judging by the cover...

  “Silly but enjoyable,” she said. “She gets kidnapped by this pirate, but he’s too honorable to do anything to hurt her, just keeps her in his cabin and sleeps outside the door to keep her safe from the crew, and...you know, nothing that would ever have happened in real life.”

  She sounded...wistful.

  “There could have been honorable pirates,” he said, coming closer despite himself.

  She moved her legs under the covers, clearly making space for him to sit down. It would have been rude to ignore it, and besides, he didn’t want to loom over her while they talked.

  So he sat. On the bed with her, looking all soft and a little sleepy still.

  Platonically. Completely platonically.

  “I suppose there could have been,” she said, and he had to yank his mind back to the conversation. “I think they were mostly about pillaging and killing and taking whatever they could get, though.”

  “Point,” he admitted.

  She smiled. “I guess I should probably start believing in honorable men, though. Since I have so much proof in front of me.”

  She meant him. She thought he was honorable. Which meant—well, first it meant that there was a warm, pleased feeling spreading through his chest. But secondly, it meant that he’d been absolutely right to swear to himself that he wouldn’t...importune her. To use a romance-novel word.

  Just like the honorable pirate. Fortunately, he didn’t have to sleep on the floor outside her door, since the only other person in the house was Hayley, and she was much too busy killing aliens to come bother Elizabeth about anything.

  “Uh, did you manage to get any sleep?” he asked, rather than directly address the compliment.

  She shrugged. “Closed my eyes for a little while. I think I just needed to lie down. I slept so much yesterday and last night. I probably caught up on a month’s worth of sleep debt.”

  “Well. Good.” He fidgeted a little, then forced his hands to still. She just looked so—with her hair pulled back, but messy from lying down, so a cloud of blond strands framed her beautiful face, the curve of her cheek, her red lips that would taste—

  “I learned something else from the pirate,” she said, and he jerked his attention back to her voice, instead of her face and her body.

  “What did you learn?” he asked, keeping his voice calm and steady with an effort.

  “That sometimes honorable men won’t say what they want, because they’re afraid of seeming like all the rest of the jerks,” she said quietly.

  It took him a long, long minute to process the meaning of what she’d said. Then his eyes snapped to hers. “Elizabeth,” he breathed.

  She held out a hand. “Come here, will you?”

  He took her hand—small and delicate, but gripping him with shifter strength, just like he was holding on to her—and leaned in to kiss her.

  Her mouth tasted sweet, and her sigh as she leaned into him was even sweeter. He caught her close and lost himself in her scent. Elizabeth.

  Chapter 13: Elizabeth

  Elizabeth could hardly believe herself.

  On the one hand—what was she doing, throwing herself at yet another big, manly guy? Hadn’t she done this a million times, and regretted it a million and one? Besides, she’d only just met him and she was a guest in his house; just a few hours ago, she’d been sure that she had a little crush and the idea would never have crossed his mind.

  On the other hand—Malachi was nothing like any man she’d ever met in her life.

  Big and manly, sure. But nice. But kind. But thoughtful, and compassionate, and loving, and funny in a gentle way that didn’t mean putting anyone else down. Protective, but not in a way that locked the object in a cage, with no opinions of their own. Powerful, but not in a way that meant everyone else had to be powerless.

  And he wanted her.

  She’d started to suspect as the day had gone on, but she’d been sure when he’d come in and sat down. She knew what that expression meant on a man’s face. He’d been looking at her like he was hungry.

  And then he’d looked away, and blanked his face, and carefully kept his hands to himself.

  It had reminded her so much of the dumb pirate novel. The way she’d wanted to shout at the characters to just say something, as they both pined mutually for each other on opposite sides of a thin wooden door.

  Well, she wasn’t going to be like that. She was going to open her mouth and say something.

  So she had. And now he was kissing her.

  Oh, how he was kissing her. Elizabeth felt like she was melting against his lips, under his hands, which had caught her around the waist, strong fingers spread around to her back, holding her close and tight. She had her arms around his neck, somehow, not that she remembered putting them there; all she could think was that she wanted to keep kissing him, and kissing him, and kissing him.

  When he broke away, she couldn’t hold back the disappointed noise. He smiled a little, and leaned in to give her a soft kiss, like he didn’t want to leave her bereft.

  But he pulled back again, and said, “Elizabeth, I don’t want you to feel—pressured, in any way. I want you to feel like you’re safe here no matter what, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do—”

  God. He really was an honorable pirate.

  “Malachi,” she interrupted firmly. “I was the one who propositioned you, remember? Do me the honor of believing that I know what I want.”

  That phrasing was hard for even the most honorable of pirates to argue with, and he relaxed, his shoulders softening under her hands. She smiled up at him. God, he was handsome. A little older, a little rugged, but that just added a little thrill to the pit of her stomach.

  And his eyes were kindled with desire, brown and bright and looking at her with that same hunger she’d recognized when he was keeping himself so carefully away.

  “Come here,” she said, and pulled him in again.

  He went willingly, kissing her deeply and powerfully, and Elizabeth just...let herself melt.

  She’d spent so long afraid, desperate, exhausted, angry, upset, and despairing. She’d spent so long fighting to keep going despite all of that. It was so, so nice to be able to just relax into something, and trust that it would be good.

  Malachi’s hands were strong, and his mouth was sure. He kissed her until she was letting out a little noise with every breath, until the pit of her stomach was hot with desire and she was starting to feel her pulse even lower down.

  Then he pulled back. “How far do you want this to go? Whatever you’re comfortable with is fine, I promise.”

  “What are you comfortable with?” she shot back.

  Okay, maybe she couldn’t just completely relax and let someone else take charge. If it was a character flaw, fine, it had served her very well in life so far.

  His eyes crinkled when he smiled. Elizabeth loved his crow’s feet.

  “I’m comfortable with anything you’re comfortable with,” he said.

  Elizabeth had the absurd mental picture of two people trying to hold a door for each other. “After you.” “No, after you!”

  Someone had to go eventually. “All the way,” she said—and blushed, despite being determined not to, and couldn’t help following up with, “I hope you don’t think that means I—”

  He interrupted her with a fierce kiss. “It means you want this just as much as I do.” He pulled back and frowned a little. “You’re feeling okay?”

  Elizabeth was tempted to say automatically, Yes, of course! But she knew he was really concerned, so she took a moment to assess her own body, beyond the pulse of want between her thighs.

  “Yes,” she said finally. “I mean, I don’t think we should swin
g from any chandeliers—” his eyes crinkled again—”but yes, it should—I don’t think I’ll fall asleep in the middle.”

  Still smiling even while she stumbled for words, he said, “So do you want to take off some clothes?”

  Elizabeth wanted nothing more. She fumbled with her borrowed hoodie, her T-shirt, her pajama pants. Hesitated over her underwear for a second, but—well, there was no point in leaving it on when it was just going to come off in a few minutes anyway, was there?

  She tossed her clothes over towards her unofficial laundry pile and looked up at Malachi, naked in front of him.

  There was a moment where she was almost self-conscious. But it was only a moment, and only almost, because then he was all over her, his hands running down her body, big and warm and calloused against her tender sides. His lips on her neck, her collarbone, her breasts. Stubble, oh God.

  When he got to the soft swell of her stomach, he paused. Carefully running a hand over it, he placed a soft, deliberate kiss just below her bellow button. “Hi, baby,” he murmured.

  And Elizabeth had to take a second to breathe carefully, so she didn’t burst into tears at this most inappropriate moment.

  God. He sounded—he sounded so warm, so tender. Like he could be—as if Malachi himself was—

  Then his mouth was moving again, and she was grateful, because she didn’t want to have a chance to finish that thought. It wasn’t real, and it was too painful to think about, anyway.

  He kissed her hip, and then her other hip, and then her thigh, his lips moving down one, and then up the other, until Elizabeth was squirming under his mouth, her clit throbbing with want. She was so wet, and his mouth was right there.

  “Malachi,” she said, her voice strangled.

  He looked up, and smiled. Crow’s feet. Elizabeth smiled helplessly back.

  She thought he might make her ask for it, but instead he said, his voice roughened with desire, “Here, lie back.”

  He got her shifted around so she was propped up on a couple of pillows, reclining like a freaking princess, and went back down between her legs. Overwhelmed with—something, not just desire but some insane expanding feeling in her chest, Elizabeth reached down and threaded her fingers through his thick dark hair.

  Inside her, her lioness purred.

  And Malachi parted her lips and just breathed on her clit.

  Softly.

  Oh, God.

  Elizabeth tipped her head back and let out her breath, because she was pretty sure she knew what was coming.

  And she was right.

  It was a couple of minutes of careful stroking along her lips before Malachi even touched her clit with his fingers, and then it was a light, gentle touch that had her shivering and twitching with need. When he finally licked her, it was so, so soft, she almost couldn’t tell if it was really his mouth or just another light stroke from the pad of his finger.

  But no, it was his mouth. And he didn’t speed up from there. He took his own sweet time, exploring every crevice of her, his lips and tongue soft and careful, building up her pleasure in a long, slow slide, unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

  It was nuts. Elizabeth would’ve thought she’d have been begging him to speed up, to get inside her, to get her off—but she didn’t want anything to change. Her hips undulated against his mouth, like she was riding some endless sea of pleasure, rocking against him, floating with no end in sight and no desire for one.

  He sucked gently on her clit as he worked a finger inside her—she was so wet that he didn’t need to take anything slow at all, but he still did, playing with the rim of her opening and making her gasp with pleasure before he even got inside.

  One finger. Two fingers. Three fingers, and now she was pushing her hips forward, chasing the sensation of being filled. Oh God, she was aching for more. He’d built her up slowly—how long had it been? Hours?—gradually edging her further and further up, and now she was trembling on the edge, wanting to stay and to fall at the same time.

  “Now?” he asked her, pausing, his fingers still inside her. His face was wet with her.

  “Now,” she gasped, and he pulled away—she whimpered, couldn’t help it—and got his pants off, came back and kissed her deeply. He tasted like her, salty-sweet, and she lifted her hips for him.

  She was so close to the edge that she almost came the second she felt him at her entrance. She held back, though; she wanted to wait.

  He pressed inside her, still so slow and gentle, like it was no effort at all. But when she looked at him, she saw the strain in his expression, the harsh way he bit his lip as he pushed into her.

  God. “Malachi,” she breathed. Her voice was raspy—how much noise had she been making?

  He looked at her, seeming almost agonized.

  “You can move,” she told him, feeling so gentle, so full of love. “Please. Please move.”

  He let out his breath in a gasp, and then they were moving together.

  It still wasn’t rough, wasn’t the hard, desperate sex she’d had with other tough guys in the past. Malachi moved with her, reached for her, held her close and thrust deep inside her so that they both shuddered and gasped.

  God, it felt like they were becoming one. Like her lioness and his dragon were twining together, shivering with pleasure in the same way that their human bodies were. Elizabeth wrapped her arms tight around him, lifting her hips, wanting to be as close as possible.

  Wanting to be one.

  She was so open to him, so wet and aching with pleasure, so full of need and desire, that every time he moved in her, it was like she had nothing more to want in her life but this.

  She tilted her head back and caught him looking at her. The expression in his eyes caught her breath away, stole it, and she could only get it back through a kiss.

  He reached between them, found her clit, and Elizabeth shrieked into his mouth and came, clenching hard around him, pulsing with pleasure beyond anything she’d felt before in her life. Like her whole being was washed away in golden light, and all that was left was him.

  He moved in her through it all, catching each spasm and prolonging it, until she was weak with pleasure, and only when it had wrung her out completely did he lower his head and shudder through his own climax.

  He moved to the side before he collapsed, so that he didn’t end up on top of her, and Elizabeth used the absolute last of her energy to roll over so that she could curl up against his chest.

  “Wow,” she murmured, which was as articulate as she could get right now. “Wow.”

  “Wow,” he agreed softly, and she felt his lips on the crown of her head before she slipped off into sleep.

  ***

  Elizabeth woke up slowly.

  She wasn’t used to gradually coming awake. Over the last few months, she’d gotten used to sitting bolt-upright in bed, coming out of panicky dreams, already running over the day’s to-do list in her head. The dangers, the unknowns, the things she needed to accomplish to keep her and the baby safe.

  Not in this house. She kept on sliding slowly out of sleep into wakefulness, the delicate morning light easing her upwards. It was so pleasant, so comfortable and gentle, that she wanted this soft, liminal space to last forever.

  Eventually, she became aware that there was another body in bed with her.

  Malachi, her lioness purred.

  That caught her attention. She didn’t think her lioness had ever learned a single human name before. She was an animal by nature, and tended to identify other people by how they smelled or sounded, not by what they were called.

  Malachi, Elizabeth agreed tentatively, and opened her eyes.

  Malachi was stretched out next to her, the muscles of his upper body softly illuminated by the winter morning light filtering through the thin curtains. Elizabeth was temporarily distracted from anything else she might’ve been thinking about, letting her eyes travel over his shoulders, his biceps. His upper body was thick and powerful, not chisel-cut like a gym rat (a
nd she’d dated one or two of those) but built naturally strong and capable, ready to work or fight as needed.

  Mmm, she thought, luxuriating in the knowledge that he was all hers.

  Well, not all—

  Wait.

  The reflexive objection, the citation of evidence that Malachi wasn’t one-hundred-percent Elizabeth’s personal possession, didn’t make it out of the gate.

  Because, somehow, it didn’t have a leg to stand on.

  He was hers. She knew it in her bones.

  Elizabeth sat bolt-upright in bed.

  Malachi startled, coming up next to her, a hand out to help her with—nothing, because she didn’t need anything, she was just realizing—

  “Are you all right?” he asked, worried.

  Elizabeth stared at him. His eyes were deep and dark, and filled with concern for her. Attention to her. Thoughts about her. And she knew that, knew it deep in her bones, because—

  “We’re mates.”

  A slow smile spread over Malachi’s face, a dawning realization that filled his face with...with joy. “We are.” His expression took on a touch of wonder. “A lion and a dragon. Mates.” He found her hands under the sheets, twined their fingers together, and leaned in for a kiss.

  Elizabeth thrilled at the touch of his mouth, the feeling of love, and home, and safety, and—

  She jerked back. “But—but how—but why—”

  He shook his head, but he looked like he wanted to smile forever. His eyes were crinkled with the happiness shining from them. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine how—two different kinds of shifters, two different kids from other parents, only meeting because of a war between our clans—it’s unlikely as hell, isn’t it? But it’s true.”

  He looked so—“How are you so calm about this?” Elizabeth asked. She pulled away—not because she wanted to be away, but because there was a thrum of nervous energy running through her that couldn’t be contained by sitting in bed.

  Of course, when she stood up, she realized that she was naked.

  Didn’t matter. She started pacing.