by Alisa Woods
Arabella shook her head and chuckled.
“What?” asked Rachel, indignant. “You’d think the man could honor a simple request.”
“Do you guys fight over everything?” Arabella asked with a smirk. “Still?”
“That man has too many opinions,” Rachel grumbled.
Arabella laughed outright at that. “Right. Sure.”
Rachel stuck her tongue out at her, then pulled a tiny train conductor suit from the pile. “Why do you want me to hook up with that guy, anyway? I’m keeping my eyes on the prize here, Ari. Which is you. And the baby.” She held up the train suit. “I’m thinking this thing has gotta go in the no pile.”
“Agreed.” Arabella sighed and then twitched a little as the baby kicked.
Rachel’s sharp-eyed gaze noticed right away. “You okay?”
Arabella waved it off. “Yeah, fine. The baby gets more active every day. He just likes jumping around in there.”
Rachel scowled. “I’m sorry, but that’s gotta be a little strange, right? I mean…” She waved her hand in the general direction of Arabella. “It’s like you’ve got some kind of alien moving around inside you. It’s every horror movie you’ve ever seen.”
Arabella smirked. “Someday, when you have your own dragonling, you’ll understand.”
Her best friend gave her a look like she was crazy. “Not going to happen.”
A flush of heat washed through Arabella. She sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly. The waves had been hitting a little more frequently lately. For no reason at all, that she could tell. It wasn’t like they came when she was more active, or stressed out, or whatever. She could be just sitting on the bed like she was now, and one would just subtly ramp up, heating her body in a wave, and then recede. She didn’t even mention them, not anymore, to Rachel. Or anyone else, really. Especially not Lucian. They would just get worried looks on their faces, and there wasn’t anything to be done about them unless they were super serious like that one time. Then she would say something. But she didn’t want them to get worked up unnecessarily. Or have Cinaed rip off her clothes and send her into an ice bath unless, and until, that was required.
Rachel didn’t even notice with the way she was flinging little outfits right and left off the pile on the bed. She got to the bottom and declared, “Okay, I’m going to fucking kill the man. No pastels. Zero. Zip. Nada.” She straightened up and planted her hands on her hips, staring hard at the offending pile.
Oh dear. “Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to get irrationally upset about crazy stupid things?” Arabella asked. “You know, pregnancy hormones, and all that?” The truth was, she couldn’t care less about the little clothes. They were just an excuse to spend some time with Rachel.
But her best friend was taking it to a Defcon One level of seriousness.
She stomped over to the door, pulled it open, and shouted out into the great room, “Cinaed, you double crossing dragon, get in here!”
Arabella laughed so hard, she had to hold her side to keep it from jiggling too much.
A moment later, Cinaed appeared at the door, looking incensed. “By all that’s magic, woman, what is the fuss you’re raising now?” He threw a sharp glance at Arabella, but the giggles that were hiccupping out of her made his shoulders relax.
“There are no pastels,” Rachel said like this was a crime against humanity.
Cinaed turned an angry glare back to her. “And this is a thing worthy of embarrassing me in front of my prince?”
“Well, if you did your damn job—”
“Oh, for the love of God…” Arabella could barely speak she was laughing so hard. “Cinaed, just come in and make some more clothes. Please.”
Cinaed gritted his teeth but stepped into the room and closed the door. “What color does my lady desire?” he asked Rachel pointedly.
“Pastels. Babies are supposed to wear nice pastel-type colors. Anyone knows that.”
Arabella was starting to gasp with laughter and had to fan herself with one of the tiny t-shirts. She hadn’t laughed so hard in some time, and the idea that Rachel had any clue what babies were actually supposed to wear was giving her the terminal giggles.
“Very well.” Cinaed went to work and conjured a tiny yellow jumper. More sunflower than Easter egg, though. “Like this?”
“No!” Rachel scowled at him. “Are you colorblind?” She turned to Arabella. “Is that a dragon thing? Can he legitimately just not see the colors at all?”
“Oh God,” Arabella gasped, trying to stop the laughter but being completely unsuccessful.
“I can see color just fine,” Cinaed ground out. “How about this?” He conjured five more identical outfits in varying shades of yellow. “Surely my lady can find one to her suiting amongst these.”
Arabella fanned herself harder and tried to rein herself in. Then another one of those waves of heat came over her. Her laughter was choked off as the wave didn’t simply rise and fall but seemed to catch wind and wash over and sweep her under.
“Rachel,” she gasped out, struggling for breath between the leftover spasms of laughter and the new wave of burning fire that seemed to be flooding her body.
“No, no!” Rachel said, wagging a finger at her without looking at her. “Let the dragon explain himself why precisely none of these are actually pastel.”
“Rach…” The gasp in her voice finally drew both of their attentions.
“Oh my God!” Rachel threw out her hands in surprise, then launched herself across the room and, in two fast strides, reached Arabella’s side.
“My lady!” Cinaed was a half step behind her.
“It’s the heat,” Arabella panted. “Need… ice bath… quick!”
He snatched her up from the bed and carried her into the bathroom, holding her with one hand and conjuring as he went with the other. By the time they reached the bath, it was already filled with ice water, and he plunged her into it. It was like an icy storm crashing into her body, but the heat was so extreme it wasn’t reaching her. She stared at the water as it started to hiss around her body, boiling up steam that tossed around the ice cubes.
Cinaed just stared, aghast. “Holy mother of magic.” His voice was just a whisper.
Rachel stood in the doorway with both hands over her mouth and panic in her eyes.
“Get the prince!” Cinaed shouted, panic filling his voice as well.
Rachel jumped and turned to flee, but Arabella could see her through the doorway, and she didn’t get halfway through the room before the door burst open, crashing into the wall and coming half off its hinges. Lucian barreled through, shoved her aside, and launched himself into the bathroom.
“Arabella.” His voice was a gasp. He fell to his knees beside the bath.
“Too hot,” she cried out. And that was all she could say because the fire had reached her lungs and was closing them down. Her whole body was an inferno, and her baby was thrashing with it. She could see his tiny feet and hands poking against her stomach from the inside. Making her skin undulate and stretch, as if he was trying to claw his way out. To escape the heat. The first race of fear reached her heart as it pumped madly to counteract the heat surge.
Was this it? Was this how she died?
“No, no, no.” Lucian’s hands were on her, finding the bare skin at the back of her neck and placing another in the ice water, palm flat on her belly. “I have you, my love. I have you.” But the panic in his voice was not reassuring. The runes were skittering down his arms to his hands, and Arabella could feel it, like icy fingers were reaching into her, penetrating the blazing hot surface of her skin.
Leonidas appeared at the side of the bath. “Let me help, my brother,” he said in a steely voice rasped with urgency. He reached his hands to her—one to hold her cheek, the other to join his brother’s at her belly. His runes danced along his skin as well. The icy fingers reach deeper inside her, doing battle against the magical heat that was burning throughout her.
“What happened?” Lucian thr
ew the angry words over his shoulder at Cinaed.
Cinaed held up his hands, helpless. “Nothing, my lord, I swear. She was just suddenly overcome. It was much faster this time—” He cut himself off, his eyes wide.
“This time.” The rage in Lucian’s voice made the cool slivers battling the heat in her belly dim a little.
“Focus, brother,” Leonidas ground out. “There will be time for recriminations later.”
Lucian swung his attention back to her, and she could see the fear in his eyes. “I’m not losing you,” he vowed, and she felt the renewed strength in the magic he was pumping into her.
She reached up to his cheek with her hand, which was shaking. When she touched him, it was like his skin was a thousand degrees cooler than hers. “Not today,” she managed, but she wasn’t entirely sure.
Behind Lucian, Rachel was screeching something at Cinaed. The heat had reached into Arabella’s mind and was making it difficult for her to piece the words together. Then Rachel started beating her hands on Cinaed’s chest and cursing at him.
The words finally came through. “You fucking dragons! Fucking men! You always get what you want, even if women have to die for it!”
I’m not going to die. But Arabella couldn’t make her mouth form the words.
Cinaed pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her. She was sobbing into his chest, and he was saying something to her. Something about not being afraid. Something about the magic of love.
The magic of love. Arabella brought her focus back to her baby in her womb, still kicking and thrashing under the fire that was threatening to consume him. She focused on the icy tendrils of magic that were trying to work their way deep inside her. She urged the magic on, coupling it with every ounce of love she had for her baby. You have to live, my little one. You have to live. You have all my love, and all your father’s love, and an entire House of love. She felt her lips move, whispering the words without sound because she had no breath left to spare. But it was working. She could feel the icy magic sinking deeper and deeper, calming the baby, soothing her body.
But it had taken everything she had to give.
Her head lolled back. She would’ve slipped under the water if Lucian and Leonidas’s hands weren’t holding her up. She couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, every ounce of energy having gone into boosting the magic they were giving her to save her child.
“It’s okay,” she gasped. “It’s going to be okay.” She wasn’t sure if it made any sound.
Then she drifted off into a sea of blackness.
It was another ten minutes before Lucian was willing to take her out of the bath.
An hour before her temperature dropped down to normal. Normal for a dragon’s mate, at least. And an agonizing two more hours while she thrashed in some kind of dream state, alternating moans and mumbling. He couldn’t decide if they were from pain or pleasure. He brought her back to his lair, changed her into dry clothes, and made her as comfortable as he could. It didn’t seem to matter.
He never left her side, feeling each small torment as a strike against his heart.
Finally, in the greatest gush of relief he’d ever known… Arabella opened her eyes.
At first, Lucian couldn’t speak. He just stroked her hair and gazed in wonder at her beautiful, green eyes. She blinked in confusion and sleepiness at him. She was curled up on his bed—their bed—the covers twisted underneath her.
“Water,” she said, then coughed.
His heart seized. He’d never run so fast as he did to the bathroom and back, returning with a small paper cup that half sloshed on the bed before he managed to get it to her. She was struggling to sit up, so he helped her, once the cup was secure in her hands. They were shaking, but just a little.
It could have been worse. So much worse.
He held her while she gulped it down.
“More.” She handed it back to him, but at least now her voice sounded more normal.
He ran again, returning with two cups. She drank them both and slowly seemed to come back to him. He couldn’t help pulling her into his lap again, stroking her hair while she drank and just touching her—gently, softly, sparking magic and, he hoped, pleasure—anything to revive her and reassure himself that she was truly okay.
Then he girded himself for the words that had to come next. Because he was dead certain that doubts about him had brought this on, and he was determined to head this off, air whatever the issues were… before they could literally kill her.
Just as he mustered the courage to speak, she cut him off by crumpling the cups, tossing them over the side of the bed, and taking his face in both hands… and kissing him.
It was so surprising—and welcome—that he was instantly lost in it.
His hands wove into her hair, and his mouth reveled in hers. How he wished this was all that was required—that she could just know of his love by his touch. But obviously that wasn’t enough. And kissing her, in spite of her fervent exploration of his chest with her hands, was an indulgence he couldn’t afford.
He pulled back from the kiss.
“Arabella.” His voice choked, and he stroked her hair again as he searched for words. “You have to tell me what caused this.”
She frowned. “Nothing caused it.”
“Is it the other women?” he asked, his chest tight.
She pulled back and gaped at him. “What other women?”
Oh, fuck. He gritted his teeth and forced it out. “The ones in Seattle. That night when I… when I thought I might force myself to… to mate with someone else. Cinaed told me you found out. That you thought—”
But she was rolling her eyes at him. “Lucian.” She pursed her lips.
He held his breath.
“Did you sleep with them?” she asked.
“No,” he said quickly. Maybe too quickly.
She raised one eyebrow.
“I swear upon my honor, Arabella, I did not…” He swallowed. “I did not technically have sex with them. It didn’t get that far. But I did… there was a brief time of…” Sweet magic, why couldn’t he force the words out?
“You messed around.” Her face was set like a stone.
“Yes.” He would sooner have spilled blood—a great quantity of blood—than utter that word.
“Did you enjoy it?”
“No!”
The arched eyebrow again. “Not even a little?”
“No. I just… I was trying to seduce them and…”
Both her eyebrows went up.
He hurried his words. “I was trying to seduce them and cause them pleasure, but there was none there for me. None except…” He swallowed again, ready to drown on these words. “Only when I was picturing you, my love. When it was you I was touching, only then did I have a fleeting moment of…” His mouth was working, but no more words were coming out.
Her face twisted with emotion, which confused him… and then she snorted a kind of ungracious laugh and shook her head. Which perplexed him completely.
Had the fever demented her? Had it stolen her mind?
She smiled wide, and it made him want to hide under the bed. “For the love of magic, Arabella,” he said, aghast. “Why are you laughing at me?”
That just made her laugh some more. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry!” she mumbled behind it. “I’m sorry.” The smile tamed a little, but the laugh still danced in her eyes. “It’s just that I can completely see it. It’s so totally you, Lucian.”
“What on earth do you mean?” Horror was squeezing down on his chest. This felt so completely unmoored from reality, he had no idea what was happening.
She spread her hands wide, the smile returning. “You were so determined to do what’s right—what’s noble and good and true—that you pushed away the woman you love so she wouldn’t get hurt.” She rested her hand on her belly, patting it in a loving way that captured his heart. “You couldn’t bear to see the people you love—another woman, another child�
�suffer, so you gave up everything. The chance at another five hundred years of life. The chance to be happy, even if only for a short while. You even tried to kill yourself—death by vampire!—all to keep me safe. Why? Because you love me, Lucian Smoke. I’ve known it from that first night you pushed me away, and I know it now with more certainty than any woman on earth has ever known such a thing.”
He just stared at her, amazed. How did this woman see so straight into his soul?
She dipped her head and gave him a mock scolding look. “You tried to run away from me, Lucian. You tried so hard to leave me to keep me safe. But even in the arms of other women, even in your dogged determination to fulfill your duty to the House of Smoke, you couldn’t help but think of me. You couldn’t help but love me. Still.”
It was true. All of it.
He reached a hand out to touch her cheek—her skin sparked magic, and he was immeasurably relieved that it was the same temperature as his. “My love, there has to be something that caused the dragonfire to rage inside you. Some doubt you have about me, about our love—”
“I’m not having any doubts, Lucian!”
It pained him to press on, but he had to. “Think, my sweet Arabella. Is there some dark corner of your mind that worries about… something. Anything. Whatever it is, we have to find it and banish it. Please, Arabella. I can’t lose you… or the baby…” Emotion was choking him as he begged.
She sat up straighter on the bed, propped against the mound of pillows at the head, and crossing her legs to cradle her beautifully rounded belly. Their son.
She was getting comfortable, but the look on her face was livid. “I am not losing this baby! You are not going to lose me. You need to knock this shit off, Lucian, because you’re starting to piss me off.”
“Arabella, I almost lost you just now!”
“That wasn’t anything I did,” she threw at him, defensively. “It just flares up for no reason.”
“It’s not for no reason, my love. There has to be a reason. Just tell me what it is. I don’t want it to fester and then flare up and then steal you both from me just like…” He stopped himself cold.