Lynxar Series: Boxed Set (Books 14-19) (Superhero Romance - Werewolf Romance)
Page 14
Deep inside, their minds locked together in a perfect union, one of pure love and perfect completion, and when his orgasm began to shake his large frame, he shouted his release to the still forest sky.
Finally, shaken and exhausted, they met each other's eyes, and their smiles were tremulous but true.
“I love you,” she whispered, and he kissed her, murmuring words of love and adoration into her mouth.
They left the forest together, hands held tight, and she knew they would never be apart again.
Chapter Seven
Lynxonna's funeral was a grand affair, and between them, Mike McIntyre and Lynxar created something that showed both her heritage from a faraway star and the love that she had for her adopted home world of Earth.
They built her a tall wooden pyre, and it was lit by a single flaming arrow shot by Archer. Then there was a feast laid out in the home that she shared with Mike, one that was open to all of the men and women and children who were part of her city. Bryan Hillman fronted the cost, and on that strangely festive day, he opened the grounds of his house to the city that Lynxonna had died for.
Though it was an enormous affair, Mike was nowhere to be seen, and it was Apple who found him ensconced in the library, sitting in the velvet armchair and staring at the fire, a book on his lap.
“Do I need to make an appearance?” he asked.
She shook his head, hovering at his side.
“Not unless you really want to,” she said gently. “This is a celebration of her life and a way for the people who loved her to remember her. You should mourn and celebrate as you see fit.”
Mike laughed, his breath hitching in his throat, and Apple realized that she had caught the mayor of Colossal City crying. He straightened his shoulders, and when he met her gaze fully, there was just a ghost of his usual smile on it, though she thought it might be genuine.
“I... I used to read to her, you know? She thought I was so... so funny and smart, and she wanted me to read to her...”
He held up a copy of Macbeth, his shoulders shaking a little.
“She thought this was a romance. She liked how Lady Macbeth was so ambitious, and it was great until everything ended and everyone died...”
His voice broke on that, and Apple crossed the floor in a few strides, gathering him to her. He pressed his face against her belly, rounder now with the child inside, and she wondered if he mourned that too, not having a child to remember his lover by.
At length, Mike stood up, and she was startled to see how calm and composed he was.
“Okay,” he said. “Thank you for that. I needed it. Let's step out and say hello, shall we?”
“Are… are you campaigning already?” Apple blurted out, and she could have slapped herself for her callous words, but Mike squeezed her comfortingly.
“Her life was joy and she lived it mindful of the people in this city. I should do no less.”
Mike's words would occur to Apple again and again over the course of her pregnancy. By the time she was ready to deliver, the leaves were gone from the trees, and she was ensconced in her own bed at home, the rubber sheet squeaking over and over again as she breathed, breathed, pushed and labored.
The midwife nodded happily at her progress, and just behind the midwife was Bellaron, his eyes calm and with a smile of utter faith.
“You don't look worried,” she said between labor pains.
He smiled. “You are fine and healthy and powerful,” he said with confidence. “This is something you were made for, and I only wish to meet our child.”
Apple was delivered quickly and easily less than an hour later, and when the midwife placed the tiny child on her stomach, she stared with love and wonder.
“A boy,” Bellaron said with satisfaction, and their son gave up a howl worthy of his father.
“A loud boy,” Apple said with love, gasping a little as the boy started to nurse.
For a long time, there was nothing but peace and love in their room as the midwife tidied up the mess of birth and discreetly gave them their privacy, and Bellaron stretched out on the bed next to her, watching his son and his wife with all the love of the universe in his eyes.
“What do you think he will be, a warrior or an artist?” he asked.
Apple smiled. “Either or both,” she responded. “All that matters is that he will be loved, and he will be cherished.”
THE END