by Virna DePaul
“You were there. All four times. I think you know.”
He shook his head. Began pacing the room while raking his hands through his hair. “You told me in L.A. you couldn’t get pregnant. Even if you were lying—”
“I—truly thought I couldn’t get pregnant. I’d been told by my doctors that I couldn’t.”
He kept talking despite her interruption. “I wore condoms—”
“Which aren’t foolproof,” she retorted.
He stopped pacing and pointed his finger accusingly at her. “It’s been just over a week since we were together.”
She crossed her arms protectively over her belly. “Vampires have a different gestation period than humans. It’s short, and a successful fertilization presents itself almost immediately. I’ll give birth within a month, but I’ll begin to show within days.”
He grasped his temples. “This is crazy. This is—” He looked frantically around him, as if searching for an answer he wasn’t going to find. “So this is why you brought me here? Because you thought—what? I had a right to know? That I’d propose, and we’d be one big happy family?”
He was yelling now. She’d known he would react this way. She strove to keep her own voice calm, but inside, she was crying. “One out of two isn’t bad,” she said softly.
“What’s that mean? That you don’t want me to propose? Good! But if you don’t want me to be part of some farce of a family, then why? Why am I here?”
“For one reason and one reason only. Because I need you.”
“You need me,” he sneered. “Yeah, you sure needed me an hour ago. What, did you think fucking me would make me more receptive to your little bombshell?”
“Listen to me,” she said quietly. “The sex we just had wasn’t about anything but me wanting you. I should have had more self control but—”
“Damn straight you should have!”
She kept talking over him. “I should have had more self control, but the fact remains I’m pregnant with your child.”
He grew deathly quiet at her flat statement, until all she could hear was his labored breath. Until she could see the realization in his eyes.
He was beginning to believe what she was telling him.
She licked her lips before continuing. “The reason I knew you were in France is because our baby sensed it. We felt it. Together. And you can’t leave. Not to go back to the United States. Not to talk to shape-shifters. Not for any reason. Because if you do, our baby will die.”
***
Dex seriously felt like his brain was about to explode.
If he didn’t know better, he’d think he was dreaming again.
No, not dreaming. Having the worst fucking nightmare of his life. And that was counting his years in the orphanage and the dream where Rurik had him cornered naked and helpless in a damn bathroom.
“You’re crazy, lady,” he managed to choke out. “And even if you’re not, what do you expect me to say to that? You expect me to be shackled to you so you can—you can—”
“Keep your baby alive.”
“It’s not my baby. You tricked me. Lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie. I told you, I believed—”
“I know a vamp can lie,” he said desperately, remembering how Knox’s brother, Zeph, a full vampire, had lied. He’d heard that from Knox himself. “It’s possible.” But while that might be true, it didn’t really matter if in the end all Jesmina had lied about was her ability to conceive. The question was, was she lying about being pregnant?
“I’m not denying that. There are things that can be done to enable a vampire to lie. They’re not necessarily pretty, but if someone is determined enough, they can make it happen. I haven’t developed the ability. I really thought I couldn’t conceive.”
“And you expect me to believe you why?”
“I. Am. Pregnant. With your child. I’m asking you to stay with me. To give my baby a chance to survive.”
“Stay with you? Here? For a month? I have a fucking job to do!” He was shouting so loudly, he expected her to flinch back. She didn’t.
Incredibly, her expression turned haughty and she actually sniffed.
Sniffed!
“And there’s no one else who can do it?” she practically jeered. “You, Dex Hunt, are the only one who can successfully get the FBI the information it needs?”
“I need to get out of here. I need to think.” He strode to the library doors, then froze. She’d said she needed him to stay with her or the baby might die. He didn’t want to believe there was a baby, or that the baby’s life depended on him, but what if? What if she was telling the truth? He couldn’t take that chance. Not when he was still reeling from the shock of her revelation. He turned back to her. “How close do I have to stay to do what you”—he waved his hand in an all-encompassing gesture—“I mean, to keep the baby safe?”
“I don’t know. You just being in France has already helped. The baby was dying. But then I felt—felt your presence. Felt the baby rally. But I didn’t truly feel stronger until you arrived and after we—”
He averted his gaze. Stared at a point just over her right shoulder and gritted his teeth. “If I stay on the grounds, will that be okay?”
“I think so. I don’t think you have to stay that close to me to—to help us.”
“Good,” he bit out. He whirled, grabbed the door handles, and flung the heavy oak slabs wide open. “Because being next to you is the last thing I want.”
Behind him, she gasped, as if his words had caused her intense pain, but he didn’t look back.
He couldn’t.
He was too afraid of what else he might say, what he might do.
Practically staggering, he rushed through the castle halls, retraced the path Cy had taken from the entrance to the library, then pushed open the front doors with something like desperation. When he stepped outside, he sucked in the crisp evening air as if he was starving for it. Dots flashed in front of his eyes and he automatically bent over, head down, palms braced against his thighs.
The same litany kept repeating over and over in his mind.
Can’t be. Can’t be. Can’t be.
He’d vowed never to have kids.
Kids were soft. Fragile. Easily hurt.
Life was hard.
He was hard.
He’d never wanted to be the source of pain for any child and he knew, with him for a father, a child was bound to suffer. If not physically, then because of Dex’s careless way with words. And if not by that, then by neglect. Or if a miracle happened and Dex somehow managed to be a decent father, his child would still suffer the stigma of being part dog. A mongrel. One with a half-breed father whose own family had abandoned him…Sent him away to live with a bunch of other unwanted werebeast children who were sometimes abused, sometimes starved, and sometimes even worse.
Dex’s heart constricted, as if someone had reached inside him and mercilessly squeezed it, and he grasped at his chest. His left knee gave out and crumbled, hitting the ground. The world around him swirled, faster and faster, like he was on a merry-go-round from hell. The dots grew bigger, blacker. He heard the pounding sound of running feet and wondered if the devil himself was chasing him.
***
From somewhere outside, the sound muffled by distance, came a man’s scream. Jes bolted to her feet, straining to hear. To her horror, it wasn’t an isolated sound, but kept on coming. Her shock morphed into panic. Dex. Dex was in trouble. She barreled after him, her breath nearly choking her when she realized he wasn’t screaming, but shouting. She could barely make out what he was saying, but the words sounded like: “can’t be.” He was yelling over and over again, but it was his tone, not his words, that sliced into her. He didn’t just sound angry, he sounded overwrought. In pain.
Because of her.
When she finally made it outside, he was illuminated by her house lights. He was half-kneeling, one leg bent, one knee and one hand on the ground, and the other hand grasping at his
chest as if he was having a heart attack. Fear made her stumble. “Dex! Oh Goddess, no!” she shouted.
The ground shook behind her an instant before Cy barreled past, getting to Dex before she could.
“Shit! What the hell’s wrong with him?” Cy shouted.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. We talked. He was angry. But not crazed. Not like this. Maybe he’s having a heart attack.” She stepped closer.
“Stand back, Jes!” Cy gripped Dex’s arm and called his name.
***
Dex heard shouts.
Jesmina’s faint voice in the distance.
Strong fingers gripped his arm. “Hunt! What are you feeling?”
That sounded like Cy, the male who’d brought him to Jesmina. But why would Cy care how he was feeling?
Didn’t make any sense.
Cy wanted Jes, didn’t he?
Did he want Dex’s baby, too?
From out of nowhere, that thought became Dex’s sole focus.
Danger.
Jesmina. His baby. His.
No one was going to take what was his away from him.
No one.
Kill. Kill the man who was trying to take what was his.
The pain in his chest intensified at the same time a heady power surged through him.
With an inhuman roar, he straightened, grabbed Cy by the arms, and even though the other man was several inches taller, Dex lifted him into the air, then body slammed him to the ground. Before Cy could recover, Dex grabbed his throat and squeezed, not satisfied until Cy began to gasp and wheeze for air.
Kill him.
Do it now.
***
With a feral scream that made Jes’s skin crawl, Dex exploded into movement until he had pinned Cy to the ground, his fingers wrapped around his throat.
“No!” Jesmina leaped forward and latched on to Dex, clawing at the arm he was using to strangle Cy. “Stop. Dex!” But despite her pleas and her attempts to loosen his grip, Dex didn’t relent. He didn’t even look at her. His twisted features appeared demonic. As if he was crazed. On drugs. Completely focused on killing Cy.
“Mine. Kill,” he spat out.
“Jes—” Cy’s voice was thready.
A quick glance confirmed he was running out of air. Though he was trying to extract himself from Dex’s grip, he seemed to be holding back. With shame, Jes realized it was because of her. Cy knew Jes cared about Dex. Because of her feelings for the were, Cy was reluctant to hurt him. But if he didn’t do something fast, Dex would kill him. “Cy, shift. Use your power. Make Dex let go of you.”
Cy’s watering eyes widened for a split second before he gasped, “Get back.”
Swiftly, Jes obeyed, stumbling backward as her gaze skipped between the two men. This was all her fault. Dex had been driven mad by the news she’d given him and now he was hurting Cy. Killing him. They—
It took mere seconds for Cy to shift. One moment he looked like his humanoid self, a tall handsome man struggling to breathe, and in the next, his body went rigid and seemed to turn to stone. His hair and flesh fossilized, turning egg-shell white just before it began to glow, as if being heated from within. Wisps of smoke wafted around him as his body heat rocketed to a sizzling seven hundred degrees Celsius before bursting into flames.
Upon Cy’s ignition, Dex screamed and automatically let go of the dragon-shifter.
In slow motion, Dex careened backward, his palms blistered and smoldering, his arms windmilling, before he hit the ground with a resounding thud.
Keeping an eye on the mass of fire that had swallowed Cy, knowing it would take a few moments for the flames to dissipate, Jes rushed to Dex. She bit her lip, whimpering when she saw that parts of his clothing had burned away, leaving scalded, bubbling skin behind.
“Giselle!” she screamed, hoping her friend was nearby. “I need my triage kit. Hurry!”
Quickly, she stripped back Dex’s clothes and assessed the damage to his body while still keeping an eye on the flames behind her. Even now they were dwindling. “Cy!” she called.
The flames flickered and then went out completely, leaving what looked like a huddled human form, charred black. As she watched, Cy’s black outer exterior cracked and crumbled until it fell away completely, peppering to the ground and exposing Cy’s stone-encased body again. In seconds, that exterior also gave way, this time dissolving without leaving any trace of itself, until Cy was once again flesh, blood, and bones. Nude, but alive. Jes moaned with relief when Cy moved, then came to crouch beside her.
“Are you okay?” she sobbed. Her gaze swept over Cy for signs of injury, but there were none, enabling her to accept his curt nod.
“How’s the were?”
Swiftly, Jes returned her attention to Dex. Physically, he was going to be fine. He’d sustained third degree burns in several areas, primarily his hands, but he was lucky his injuries weren’t worse. He was unconscious. Her body shook from shock and distress, but gently, she ran her hands over his skull, searching for bumps or bleeding. He had a small lump on his left side, but it didn’t appear serious. “He blacked out. I don’t know if it’s because of the fire or when he hit his head. I don’t know. But he’s okay.” Turning to Cy, she grasped his arm with one frantic hand, desperate to make him understand. To forgive her. “I’m so sorry, Cy. It’s my fault. He went crazy when I told him. I’m sorry.”
Cy broke her grip, grabbed her arms and gently shook her, abruptly stopping her words. “It’s okay, Jes. I’m fine. Tend to him.”
Giselle ran up and sank down next to them with Jes’s bag of emergency medical supplies. Jes took a deep breath and dove into the duffel. She pulled out antiseptic and bandages, her movements crisp and efficient. Suddenly, she was calm. In control. All emotion pushed aside so that she could tend to the patient who needed her. But as she did so, she was ever aware of Cy’s eyes on her and the echo of her own words.
He went crazy when I told him.
And that’s exactly what had seemed to happen. Dex had seemed to be caught in the grip of insanity as he’d choked Cy.
Would he still be that way when he woke up?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Dex woke disoriented and feeling like he’d been dragged behind a car for several blocks.
Make that dragged behind a car for miles across mountainous, rocky terrain, then dumped down a steep ravine covered in shards of broken glass and left to the mercy of a dozen hunger-crazed vultures.
On top of that, his mouth felt dry, his head fuzzy.
Where the hell was he?
After several failed attempts, he finally managed to open his eyes. He blinked until the world stopped spinning and came into focus.
He was surrounded by white. White walls. White sheets. Sunshine spilled into the room from a window where heavy drapes were pulled to the side. He heard the beeping of a monitor beside him and figured he was in some kind of hospital. But the last hospital he’d been in had been in L.A. to talk to the wounded shape-shifter. He was supposed to be in France now.
Colors exploded through his mind. Red hair—Trosseau. White robes—the trio of shape-shifters. Grey on green—a castle on a lush expanse of land.
A rainbow of ivory and pink, silvers and blacks—Jesmina.
France. Jesmina.
Jes.
Pregnant.
Oh shit.
He bolted to a sitting position, wincing when his head violently protested. Instinctively he raised he hands to press against his temples, frowning when he saw they were covered with bandages. Why? Had he cut them?
No, he realized. Not cut. Burned. In some kind of explosion that had sent him flying off the man he’d been fighting. The man he’d been choking and trying his damndest to kill.
Jes’s friend, Cy.
But why? Sure, they’d gotten in a few punches before Jes had shown up, but they hadn’t actually been trying to kill each other.
“Cy—” He croaked out, not really expecting him to answer. Only he did.
Dex caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and jerked his head to the right. Sure enough, Cy sat next to Dex’s bed, his hands folded against his chest and his body deceptively sprawled back in a straight back chair, despite the tension emanating from his tightened shoulders and the scowl on his face.
Cy looked pissed but otherwise normal. Not like a creature that could transform itself into a fireball. But he had. At least, that’s what Dex remembered.
“What—what happened?” he asked, then winced. What was wrong with his voice? He sounded like his throat had been scraped raw.
Cy straightened and leaned forward. “Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.”
Dex shook his head to indicate he didn’t understand. He’d been talking to Jesmina in her library and things had gotten pretty hot pretty fast. Although he’d been troubled by not knowing why she’d sent for him, he’d also been relieved to see her again. To be inside her again. Only those feelings of relief hadn’t lasted long before the tides had turned, and things had gone to hell in an instant. Why?
He strained to remember. It was on the tip of his tongue. He’d remembered it a second ago, but it was gone again. She’d been telling him something. But what? He scanned the room. He and Cy were alone.
“Where’s Jes?”
Cy’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “She’s finally catching up on some sleep. She was up most of the morning worrying about you. Worrying about the baby and what’s going to happen next.”
“The what?”
“The baby,” Cy repeated, his face going eerily blank.
Baby.
Clarity and memory combined to ruthlessly drop kick Dex in the head.
In a flash, he remembered everything again. Him and Jes having sex. How right it had felt. Then her telling him she was pregnant. That he had to stay with her through her pregnancy or the baby would die. He’d responded with denials and recriminations before freaking out completely and running outside into the night. There, he’d suddenly been overcome by a sharp stabbing pain in his chest. Automatically, he raised his hand and rubbed at the spot that still throbbed.