His Secret Baby (A Bad Boy Romance)

by Waltz, Vanessa

  My stomach curdles with something like horror as a crowd of men shifts in front of the exit, blocking it. Oh God, what’s happening?

  “Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

  Thane’s voice grates like gravel. “We’re getting married.”

  “Like hell we are. Is this your idea of a joke?” I ask, looking around the creepy chapel and scowling. “Because it’s really not funny.”

  “Am I laughing?”

  He’s not.

  “It’s no joke. You’re going to be mine.”

  “I’m not marrying you.”

  “You said you wanted to be with me.”

  “Yeah, I meant that on a level of let’s visit each other’s parents, not let’s get fucking married! This is not what I meant!”

  He takes my shoulders suddenly, not hard enough to be painful, but enough to force me down to my knees as the priest approaches us with a canister hanging from his wrist. It’s smoking with some kind of foul incense that makes me cough and cough. The priest mutters something in Latin as he swings the incense around, and Thane bows his head in concentration, his lips moving with the words.

  I can’t believe this is happening.

  “Brother Thane, have you chosen a bride?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  I look up at the priest, and try to stand up, but Thane’s hand forces me still. “Hey! What the hell is going on?”

  “Rise,” the priest says, beckoning with veined hands.

  Hands slip under my arms and haul me to my feet. I stare at the wizened old man who seems to look through me with his watery blue eyes. I try to jerk myself out of Thane’s grip, but he pulls me against his chest and laughs softly in my ear.

  “It’ll all be over soon.”

  The priest walks to the altar and picks up one of the blades.

  That's it.

  "Get the fuck off me!"

  I dig my elbow in Thane's ribs, hitting him hard. It practically glances off his muscles. He laughs and kisses the side of my head.

  "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

  I'm supposed to relax while there's a man heading toward me with a very thin but very sharp-looking knife, and my arms are immobile.

  A sob hits my throat as he hands the knife to Thane with both hands.

  “You must weaken yourselves in front of the other. As husband and wife, you will undergo trials that will test the bonds of your marriage. The only time a Dragon may be vulnerable will be in front of his wife. It is the only time he sheds his own blood.”

  I want to slap the shit out of that priest. "What the fuck does that mean?"

  Thane takes the knife, keeping me still with one thick arm. He nuzzles my neck. "It means that you're mine, and I'm yours."

  My eyes flutter, and I wait for the sting of the blade to slice me open. I can't believe that I actually trusted this son of a bitch. He points the blade toward my neck, and a scream rends from my throat. I'm going to die—right here—

  And I feel a tiny sting on my neck, followed by Thane's wet mouth. He kisses the wound over and over, as if apologizing for it. The knife moves away, and the priest takes it back as my heart hammers against the arm clamped over my chest.

  "Now it's your turn."

  Suddenly the arms disappear from my sides, and I stumble from Thane's warm body as the priest offers me a knife in his two hands. The blade's handle is decidedly feminine. I snatch it from him, and my first impulse is to drive it into that fucker's heart, but I'm not a murderer. Thane waits for me to do whatever the hell I'm supposed to do in this fucked up wedding ceremony. I look around their impassive faces for help, and then to my husband-to-be.

  "How could you do this?"

  His eyes shine. "I don't want to hurt you—”

  "Then let me go!"

  "Can't do that."

  "I'm not marrying you."

  "Sorry, sweetheart, but you are."

  "I. Am. Not."

  "I gave you a chance in that elevator."

  My jaw drops as I stare at him. He’s a lunatic. Insane. I ground my voice into gravel. “You asked if I wanted to be with you, not if I wanted to marry you.”

  “Aren’t they the same?”

  “No, they definitely are not the same!”

  The confidence doesn't burn out from his eyes. "We belong together, Christine.”

  What is he talking about?

  "How can you think that?"

  "I don't think. I know."

  This is insane. This is insane. Everything from the dagger clutched in my hand, to the robed Dragon priest, and the men smiling at me as though they've seen this happen a thousand times. What kind of batshit insane place is this? It's crazy, and I hate that there's a but that keeps interrupting my thoughts.

  “There’s no way out.”

  "Help!" I scream at the crowd of men watching me. "Please let me leave!”

  Their shoulders shake as they laugh at me, and suddenly the room is filled with a chorus of male voices. They’re a blur of identical faces, like Greek masks stretched in that same, mocking sneer.

  “STOP LAUGHING!”

  Something dark lunges at me, and I slash blindly with the knife. A flash of red burns across my vision, and then I see Thane, cradling his bleeding hand. I look down at the knife grinning with his blood.

  “Shit, I—I didn’t mean—”

  I’m still shaking when his body returns to my side. He grabs my waist and squeezes as he brings a bloody thumb to my mouth. He wipes my bottom lip, and I lick, the metallic tang hitting my tongue. I know from Thane’s satisfied look that I’ve completed some kind of ritual, and this suspicion cements when the priest nods at me and takes the knife from my lax grip.

  “You must make an offering to the syndicate, and swear to uphold the tenets of the Dragons.”

  I back into Thane’s solid chest as the priest motions toward that awful stone basin with the dragon’s mouth.

  “No—no fucking way.”

  “You don’t have to say the words, but we’re getting married. Nothing is going to change that, hon.”

  Nothing I say or do. No matter how much I beg, he’s got himself convinced that we’re fated lovers or some shit, which makes this even more ridiculous because of the secret I’ve been carrying around all day. Thane forces me forward, grabbing my hand with his bloodied one and stretching it over the basin. My screams hit the ceiling as the priest walks forward with another knife, opening a small gash to make me bleed.

  “You must make an oath.”

  “I swear to give my life in service to the syndicate.”

  I keep my mouth firmly shut as the priest turns toward me. Fuck that. I’m not making them a promise, but it turns out I didn’t need to. Why am I not surprised?

  The old man grabs a bottle from the altar and pours it into the basin, and then he strikes a match, dropping the flame into the basin. The whole thing goes up in a little whoosh of bright fire, and then dies.

  “As the dragon’s breath devours flames, so shall it devour your body should you choose to betray us. Se mortem provocatio.”

  What the fuck does that mean?

  Thane pulls me close, wrapping a bandage around my stinging palm and tying it securely before doing the same to himself. The priest begins chanting in Latin, and the wedding guests respond back in unison. I just want it to stop.

  “Thane, repeat after me… I promise to guard this woman with my life. I will be her shield, her partner through light and shadow for eternity…”

  He goes on and on, reading the wedding vows as Thane holds me an arm’s width apart and repeats them word for word. I know that because I see his lips moving. There’s no sound coming from them. A persistent roar wails in my ears, drowning out everything else.

  Then there’s a box in his hand. A small black box that suddenly makes everything real. He opens it, and there’s a ring sitting in that box. A gold ring set with a princess-cut diamond. It’s beautiful. It’s even in my size. How did he know? He takes my hand gently, slidi
ng the ring on my finger. I see candlelight flickering in the diamonds many facets.

  Then the priest hands me a simple gold band, and what am I supposed to do but slide it on his finger? I tell myself it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s plain from the look on his face that it definitely means something.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  Ear-splitting cheers erupt around us as Thane smiles in that predatory-I-knew-I’d-get-you way before he crushes his lips against mine. I’m numb with shock, but desire pricks across my skin like needles, and I can’t ignore the fact that he’s sweeping his hand across my bare skin, and—what is he doing? The straps from my dress fall to my shoulders, and the crowd bursts with bawdy jeers.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Undressing my wife.”

  The absurdity hits my brain like a hot poker, and nervous laughter bursts from my lips. Jesus Christ. This must be a bizarre dream. It would explain everything except the pain throbbing my hand, and the sudden surge of energy when he seals his lips to my neck. Cold air stings my back as he reaches for the zipper and pulls down. The male voice rise, and I dig my fingers into Thane’s waist.

  “Please don’t.”

  And he almost looks sorry for me.

  The beautiful gown I spent hours shopping for pools in my lap as he undresses me in front of a group of men I’ve never seen before, but at least I can’t see their faces anymore because I’m blinded by tears. Cold surrounds my skin, but Thane holds me to his chest, trying to spare me of the worst as the dress falls to my ankles. All that’s left is my thong, and he slips his hand through the thin strap and squeezes my ass, letting out a deep rumbling growl. He lifts me up with both arms, cradling me against his chest as his eyes greedily feast on my body. The man cheer him on as he carries me away from the chapel, into a side room that I hadn’t noticed where there’s a massive door. They crowd around us, screaming, and I bury my head in his chest.

  Suddenly, the door flies open, and Thane steps inside. It’s a bedroom, with a four-poster bed with a vanity and an armoire. The door slams shut on the wall of jeering men and he locks the door. The noise fades to a dull murmur as Thane walks to the giant bed and sets me down on the richly embroidered comforter. My skin pulses with energy as I lay there, staring at the ceiling.

  “What just happened?”

  “We got married,” he says, stroking my brow. “I took you for my wife.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “I said the vows and we joined our blood. It’s done, sweetheart.”

  Done. Just like that, we’re husband and wife.

  I push myself up on my elbows and wrap the comforter around my body as Thane takes a step back, amusement all over his face.

  “Okay, I don’t know what kind of crackpot priest is out there, but that was no fucking wedding.”

  His smile widens. “Tomorrow morning he’s going to mail in the marriage certificate. It’s done.”

  “I’m leaving. I’ve had enough.”

  I expect him to lunge at me, or, I don’t know, slap my face and throw me back over the bed, but he does none of that. He shoves his hands into his pockets and leans over one of the beams on the four-poster bed.

  “I know this is hard to take in…”

  The comforter slides around my shoulders as I stand up from the bed and gather it around me.

  “Hard to take in? I was stripped naked in a room full of strange men and my palm split open in some kind of fucked up ritualistic sacrifice to a dragon. Hard doesn’t fucking cover it.”

  “It’s not fucked up,” he says in an even voice, but his eyes are hard. “It’s tradition. And you don’t need to insult my faith.”

  “I’m just calling it as I see it.”

  “We’re called the Black Dragons. There’s going to be symbols of fucking dragons all over the place. It does not mean we worship them.”

  I hold my hand up to stop his talking. “You know what? I don’t care. I’m done. We’re done.”

  “You can’t leave.”

  That smirk touches the sides of his face as I take a few steps toward the door.

  “You won’t stop me.”

  “No, but the men outside will.”

  Thane turns around and walks toward the bar cart, where there’s a variety of glasses. He picks up a tumbler and seizes the lid on the ice bucket, dropping a few cubes inside.

  Fuck. There’s a wall of men out there, pressed against the door. I can hear them talking amongst each other.

  “What are they doing?”

  “Waiting for me to fuck you.”

  The small pop of unstopping a bottle of amber liquid echoes in the room as he pulls the stopper and pours.

  I must have heard wrong.

  “They’re waiting for what?”

  The glass raps the bar cart as he takes another one and prepares a second drink. The ice cubes ring as he tosses them inside the glass. Then he takes both and walks toward me until he’s invading my space. I can’t back away, because the comforter is bunched around my legs.

  “Christine, I don’t know why I have to keep saying this: We’re married. They’re waiting for me to consummate the marriage. You don’t get to walk out that door until you give yourself to me.”

  Then he outstretches his arm, offering me a drink. It’s darker than his, and then I spot the can of Coke he left on the cart. He remembered my drink of choice.

  You can’t drink. You’re pregnant.

  “Fuck this.”

  I step around him, shrugging off the comforter as I walk to the heavy walnut door and hammer it with my fists. “Let me out!”

  “The door isn’t locked,” Thane says in a bored voice.

  I grasp the handle, but my nerve fails me. They’re just behind that door. My fingers curve into the wooden moldings in the door when I hear Thane’s footsteps heading in my direction. I look down at the swell of my breasts, the gentle curve of my abdomen, and then his hand touches my hip. My skin feels abnormally sensitive, and I gasp as his hand slides over my stomach.

  His body presses against my back, his belt buckle digging into my ass. I shut my eyes against the feelings swirling where his hand sprawls on my stomach.

  “Neither of us are leaving this room until it’s done.”

  “You’re such a fucking bastard.”

  “I know,” he says in a somber voice.

  I whirl around and shove his chest hard, but I might as well be shoving at a redwood tree for all the good it’ll do.

  “If you know, then why did you fucking do it?”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I couldn’t let it go any further without this. If that makes me a selfish bastard, so be it. I wanted you, and I just couldn’t give you up.”

  “This is your solution? You want to be with someone, so you drag her to a wedding and then throw her over your shoulder like some kind of caveman?”

  “Caveman,” he repeats in a throaty voice as he looks me up and down. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

  The slithering sound of Thane’s jacket falling off his shoulders hits my ears. Then he unbuttons his shirt, and I’m distracted by his smooth, powerful pecs, how the fact that there’s not an ounce of fat on his body, which almost seems like it was sculpted for physical labor. Fighting.

  Or fucking.

  “I don’t want any part of this shitty culture you call your home.”

  That strikes a nerve in him. He rips off his shirt a little more harshly than he needs to, exposing a perfect stretch of abs. Damn it, his body is perfect.

  “Let me ask you something—Did I ever pretend to be a good man?”

  “No.”

  “You knew who I was the minute you got involved. You could have checked out at any time.”

  “Like I had a choice!”

  He rolls his eyes. “Oh please. You answered your phone every time I called. You could have just ignored me, but you didn’t. Face it, bab
y. You want me just as much as I want you.”

  “That doesn’t make us marriage material.”

  “I see something in you.”

  “More like you see a pair of tits and an ass.”

  More of his clothing drops to the floor like petals on a lake. Then his naked chest presses against mine, and a roar of desire stuns me like a bolt of lightning. All sense might have left the room, but my body still wants him, still begs for the cock flattened against my thigh.

  “There’s something between us, Christine. You know I’m right.”

  My back hits the door, the carvings digging into my skin as Thane grips my hip and thoughts of sex consume my brain. I weigh my options, of which I believe there are three. The first relies on talking sense into Thane, but that’s clearly not going to happen. The other involves me fighting my way through the thick wall of men and making a break for it. The last one? Fuck him and get out of here.

  That’s the best I’ve got, so I’m going with it.

  It’s surprisingly easy to shed my anger, like slipping out of a robe. The fear hasn’t even made its way to my head yet. He’s made it clear that we’re not getting out of here until we fuck, and God knows we’ve done plenty of that in the last couple months. We’re already naked, and he kisses my neck, nipping my skin with small bites. Heat flares, shooting out in straight lines like little bolts of electricity.

  “Are you—” I swallow, forcing my voice out. “Are you going to hurt me?”

  “Are you asking because you’re afraid I will or you’ll be disappointed if I don’t?”

  The dark smirk tells me what I already know, that he’s toying with me. He was from the beginning, and he smiles because he thinks he’s won me over. I let him think that. He pulls me close, until I feel the wild beating of his heart against my skin. Then he drags his fingers through my hair and kisses me, his tongue swirling in my mouth as he pushes me toward the bed.

  I slide backward over the mattress, thinking of the baby as he grabs his cock and watches me splay on the bed. It bends as he kneels on the mattress, and then his body falls over mine. I kiss him back as he crushes against my lips, nudging my legs apart, and I let my legs wrap around his waist.

  I’ll fuck him one last time, and then I’m gone for good.