Uriah's Heart

by Zena Wynn

  “The one I hired to make sure you eat properly, and no, you’re not eating a cheeseburger for breakfast. There’s also a nurse on staff in case you experience any complications,” he said.

  I stared, bottle suspended inches from my lips. “You hired a personal chef for me?”

  He gave an abrupt nod. “For both of us. Should have done it years ago. Think of all the money I could have saved by not eating out.”

  Shaking my head, I laughed under my breath. Only someone with his type of money would consider employing a personal chef a money saving measure. I suppose I should be flattered he’d gone to such effort. It was a sweet gesture and said much about the man he was underneath the assholery.

  Uri sat next to me on the sofa and placed his hand on my lower belly where the baby lived. His hand was so large, it covered the majority of my stomach. “I’m going to take good care of you and our child.”

  He was so sincere, his expression so loving. That damned feeling of hope I’d been trying to suppress all weekend reared its head again. “You’re a confirmed bachelor,” I said, reminding the both of us.

  Uriah nailed me with his gaze. “You’ve been reading too many tabloids. Let me let you in on a little secret. A confirmed bachelor is simply a man who hasn’t met the right woman. I have and it’s you.”

  I shook my head, trying to understand. “Why me, and why now? Is it because I’m pregnant? You know I won’t hold you accountable.”

  Uri’s face turned cold. He planted one hand near my head and the other on the back of the sofa and leaned in close. “You damn well will hold me accountable since I intended for you to become pregnant when I lured you into that hotel room. That’s my child. You’re my woman. I’ll give you time to get used to the idea, but we’re a done deal.”

  “Uri...”

  His face softened. “Do you realize you’re the only person I allow to call me that? There were so many clues. I should have realized my feelings long ago. You were right under my nose and I didn’t see you.”

  I raised my hand and cupped his cheek. “That’s why it’s difficult for me to believe this is real. How about a compromise? We can try dating for the next six months and see what happens. No commitment. No pressure.”

  He straightened and the corner of his mouth tilted. “Okay.”

  I stared at him, my internal alarms shrieking. Narrowing my eyes, I echoed, “Okay?”

  “Sure.” He stood and took a few steps toward his desk before pausing. Turning, he said, “Oh, I should probably mention that I bought out your lease. The movers will be there Saturday to pack up your belongings and move them into the house.”

  My mouth fell open. “You what?”

  Uri snapped his fingers. “Oh, and another thing. I authorized my press secretary to announce our engagement. The news should hit the papers tomorrow. Your condo has good security, but if you want to avoid the newshounds, you might want to stay at my place tonight. Let me know what you decide.”

  He sauntered away, whistling under his breath. I stared at his retreating form, too shocked to think. Finally I groaned, collapsed onto the couch, and placed my forearm over my eyes.

  Seven months later...

  “We should get married. I don’t want the baby to be born a bastard,” I said.

  “Now? You want to get married now?” Uriah said, staring at me in disbelief.

  I’d moved into Uri’s house and worn his engagement ring, but refused to set a wedding date or even discuss it. The last thing I’d wanted was the pressure of a high society wedding. The change from personal assistant to live-in fiancée had been difficult enough.

  Uriah had been right. The news of our engagement had spread like wildfire. I’d been inundated with paparazzi. Everyone wanted pictures of and interviews with the bride-to-be. Uri had to assign me a security detail. The whole thing had been overwhelming.

  “I don’t see what the big deal is. You have the marriage license. I’m sure the hospital has a chaplain on staff. Have them come in, say a few words, and we’ll sign the license. My doctor and a nurse can witness it,” I said, panting through a contraction.

  “Maze, you’re in labor. Your contractions are less than ten minutes apart. We are on our way to the hospital to deliver our son, and you want to get married?” Uri’s voice rose to a roar.

  The light changed to green and Uriah weaved in and out of traffic like a madman. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to bring this up, but I truly didn’t want to be an unwed mother. Funny how now that the moment was upon us, my lack of a wedding ring was suddenly an issue.

  I patted his arm. “First babies take time. Everyone says it. When we get to the hospital, tell the staff what you want and they will jump through hoops to make it happen.”

  He muttered something vicious under his breath and laid on the horn, swerving around a vehicle that pulled out in front of him. “I can’t believe you want to get married now, under these circumstances.”

  I gripped my stomach as I felt another contraction coming. They were coming faster. For the last two days, I’d been having random contractions. I’d believed them to be Braxton Hicks. Technically, the baby wasn’t due for another week and at my last doctor’s appointment, I’d shown no signs of dilation. “Are you...saying...you don’t...want...to marry...me?”

  “No! That’s not what I’m saying. I’ll get the damned minister and you’ll have your damned wedding, but when this is over, we’re doing it again the right way.” He came screeching to a halt in front of the emergency room door and jumped out of the car.

  “Sir, you can’t leave that vehicle here,” the security guard said.

  “My fiancée’s in labor. I need to get her inside.” Uriah snatched open my door and reached in to help me out. The helpful guard radioed inside for assistance.

  The doors swooshed open. An orderly wearing green scrubs and pushing a wheelchair came out. “Name? I’ll take her inside and get the paperwork started while you move the car.”

  “Baines. Uriah Baines. We’re pre-registered. Doctor Stacey’s been contacted and should be on the way. Maze, I’ll be right back.” Uriah kissed my cheek and raced around to jump into the driver’s seat.

  The orderly wheeled the chair in a circle to take me inside.

  “Tell me, does this hospital have a chaplain?” I asked.

  “We have three. They rotate duty so that one is always on call,” he said.

  “Can you have him meet us in our birthing suite? Uriah and I would like to marry before the baby is born,” I said, just as another contraction hit.

  “Before the baby comes,” the young man said dubiously. “I’ll call and say it’s an emergency.”

  “Thank you,” I panted.

  The rest was a pain-hazed blur. They wheeled me up to Labor and Delivery, into the private delivery suite. Uri and the doctor arrived at the same time. The chaplain was catholic and since neither of us was, he declined to perform the ceremony.

  “I’m not having this baby unless we’re married,” I told Uriah.

  “Maze, you’re being ridiculous. You’re fully dilated. The baby’s right there,” Uri said.

  “Find a minister!” I bellowed in a voice that sounded demonic.

  “Will a notary do?’ the doctor asked from his position on the stool between my legs.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “No,” Uri said at the same time.

  “I...am not...pushing...this baby...out of me...unless we’re married,” I growled.

  He glared at me above the mask he wore. “You are so damned stubborn. Fine, we’ll take a notary.”

  Doctor Stacey sent one of the nurses to grab one while I focused on not pushing. Minutes later, a woman in scrubs came running into the room holding a small book in her hand. “Who’s getting married?”

  “We are,” I said.

  “I’m breaking your water,” Dr. Stacey said.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here—”

  “Skip to the good part. We don’t have time for t
he long version,” the doctor ordered.

  She glanced down and whatever she saw had her flipping the page. “Do you—what’s your name?”

  “Uriah Baines.”

  “I want you to push, Maze. Not one hard push, but a series of smaller pushes. It will keep you from tearing,” the doctor said.

  “Okay,” I said, docile now that I was getting my way.

  “Do you, Uriah Baines, take Maze to be your lawfully wedded wife?” The notary spoke so fast, her words ran together.

  “I do,” he said.

  “Stop! Give me a second. I’ll tell you when to push again,” the doctor said.

  “Do you, Maze, take Uriah to be your lawfully wedded husband?” she asked.

  “Okay, Maze. Give me one really good push.

  “I dooooooooo,” I said, shoulders pressed into the mattress as I pushed with everything in me.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife!” she said just as a baby cried.

  The End

  If you enjoy romances with arrogant, alpha heroes who think they always know what’s best and are determined to have their way, keep reading for a preview of Reyna’s Vampyr.

  About the Author

  Zena Wynn is a multi-published author of erotic and sensual romance in various romance subgenres: Interracial, Contemporary, Paranormal, Sci-Fi/Fantasy, and Inspirational. She writes the type of stories she loves to read—stories with great characters who, through love and determination, overcome all the challenges that come their way. Her heroes and heroines are passionately, lovingly, devoted to each other. Zena wants her characters to stick with readers long after “The End.”

  To learn more about Zena Wynn, visit her website: www.zenawynn.com. Connect with her on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/zenawynn. Subscribe to her YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC-XfstUTbbeNLAAmG4Cl4pw. Or contact her by email: zenawynn@yahoo.com.

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  If you enjoy sharing your opinions with others, please consider leaving an honest book review. Good, bad, or indifferent—it’s doesn’t matter. Let your voice be heard.

  Thank you,

  Zena Wynn

  Books by Zena Wynn

  True Mates

  Mary and the Bear

  Nikolai’s Wolf

  Tameka’s Smile

  Carol’s Mate

  Claiming Shayla

  Rome’s Pride

  Healing NeeCee – coming Fall 2019

  Nina Chronicles 1: Nina’s Dilemma

  Nina Chronicles 2: Worth Fighting For?

  Nina Chronicles 3: Loves Many Challenges

  Nina Chronicles 4: Full and Overflowing

  Beyond the Breaking Point

  Broken

  The Question

  After The Question

  Fantasy Island: Mya’s Werewolf

  Fantasy Island: Cyn’s Dragon

  Fantasy Island: Fantasy Man

  Fantasy Island: Moxie’s Vampire

  Fantasy Island: Zero Regrets

  Fantasy Island: Star Fantasy written with Kioni Hall

  Fantasy Island: Star Dream written with Kioni Hall

  Seduced by the Lycan

  Possessed by the Lycan

  To Jon, With Love

  The Contract

  Illicit Attraction

  Trust Me Tonight

  Reclaiming Angelica

  Naughty Seductions: The Naughty Student

  Reyna’s Vampyr

  Ryan’s Obsession

  Played

  REYNA’S VAMPYR

  Zena Wynn

  Reyna Leoine has good reason to hate the vampyr after what one did to her mother. Her goal in life is to stay as far away from them as possible. When she compulsively accepts a dare to enter their domain—The Gladiator—Reyna questions her sanity. When the leader of the local vampyr clutch claims her as his, Reyna does the sensible thing. She runs.

  Tariq Bastien recognizes his Heart’s Blood the minute he sees her sitting at the bar. After centuries of being alone, he has no intention of allowing her to escape him. When she manages to do just that, Tariq goes a little crazy.

  Tariq does what Vampaliens do best—he hunts. The more he discovers about her, the less it makes sense. No human should be able to escape him, and he’d recognize one of his kind. When he finally finds her, will the mystery of her past draw them together or drive them apart?

  Chapter One

  What am I doing here? I must be out of my mind.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t insanity that brought Reyna Leoine to The Gladiator. It was her damnable, childish inability to resist a dare. Specifically, a double-dog-dare. Yep, the words “I double-dog-dare you” got to her every time. You’d think at her age she’d have learned better.

  “Just dye my hair blond and color me stupid,” Reyna muttered under her breath. She really was insane. There could be no other explanation. Only a crazy person would willingly walk into a known vampyr bar dressed as she was. Might as well have a sign on her forehead proclaiming, “Fresh blood! Come and get it!”

  Reyna fought not to fidget. She was extremely uncomfortable knowing the majority of her pulse points were exposed. The borrowed dress draped low on her breasts in the front. The back was completely open. Forget wearing a bra. A swath of silky material lay on the swell of her ass, almost revealing the dimple directly above it. The hemline was so short it came with a color-coordinating micro-thong. This was not her usual style at all. Add in the pair of ‘fuck me’ stilettos on her feet and the image was complete. It would take everything she had to escape without being jumped or worse, bit.

  Wasting time, she glanced around the shadowed interior of The Gladiator. The windowless building stood at least four stories tall and took up an entire city block. She’d been told it also extended another three stories below ground, maybe more. No one knew for sure and those who did weren’t talking.

  The inside was cavernous. It had three open floors. Each level contained arched alcoves rimming the perimeter, seating groups of two or four. Soft red lighting illuminated the recesses and each was rimmed with tied-back curtains which could be released for privacy. Several of those drapes were closed. Reyna didn’t want to know what was going on behind them.

  The walkways contained additional seating in the form of Roman-styled backless couches. Some lined the barrier ringing the dance floor. Others were in groupings to allow larger parties to sit together. Mock fires flickered inside Roman-styled lamps—golden oil lamps on tall pedestals—providing additional lighting.

  The servers all wore short white togas fastened on one shoulder, leaving most of their muscled chest bare. The togas were belted at the waist before falling to just about mid-thigh, revealing thick muscular legs worthy of the world’s strongest bodybuilders. It was rumored underneath they were naked. The bouncers wore molded leather breastplates, short leather panel skirts, and knee-high black leather boots, similar to Russell Crowe’s costume in The Gladiators. Lots of eye candy, if you were interested in that sort of thing and didn’t mind the whole lot of them being vampyrs.

  Reyna shuddered and huddled closer to the bar, all the while trying to send out vibes that said, “Not interested. Do not approach.” Despite the way she was dressed, the last thing she wanted was to attract the attention of anyone in here. Just the thought of it left a bad taste in her mouth. She squinted at her watch. Ten minutes down, fifty to go.

  She gazed into the mirrored wall behind the bar into the room. Strobe lighting made the masses on the dance floor appear to be dark shadows moving in slow motion. The flooring was made up of lighted squares flowing in random patterns according to the beat. It was enough to make her dizzy.

  Sighing, she called the bartender over and ordered yet another drink she didn’t want, knowing she had to blend in. Sticking out would only draw attention to herself. Something she wanted to avoid at all costs.

  As Reyna sipped on her wine cooler, she mentally reviewed what she knew of Vampyrs, or bloodsuckers as she privately re
ferred to them. Five years ago they’d come out of hiding, proving reality really was stranger than fiction. Not that she’d needed proof.

  Despite the name, Vampyrs weren’t really vampires, but aliens with vampiric tendencies from a planet called Vampalien. Turns out they’d been relocating by the shipload to earth since 2400 B.C. The reason they’d given for doing so was overpopulation and a growing lack of resources on their home planet. Earth was the closest, livable planet with a similar environment to home.

  Lucky Earth.

  After the unveiling, mass hysteria was quickly nipped in the bud when humans realized just how powerful—not to mention wealthy—the creatures were, and how they’d infiltrated every segment of the population from highest to lowest. Laws, initiated by Vampyrs themselves, were quickly put into place to protect the populace, or so they said. It was rumored these laws were just an open acknowledgement of the ones already in place in Vampyr society.

  In response to the newly enacted legislature, humans had come up with a few unofficial rules of their own—survival tactics, if you will. Briefly, she reviewed them in her mind as a reminder and to strengthen her resolve to make it out of here in one piece. After all, she had plenty of time—forty-three more minutes—before she could leave.

  Rule number one: Don’t look them in the eyes. Vampyrs had an abundance of mental powers, one of which was the ability to enthrall humans.

  Rule number two: Never say yes to a Vampyr. According to the law, Vampyrs could only take blood from willing donors. To do otherwise was considered rape and carried stiff penalties. That is, if the victim remembered they hadn’t consented and reported it. Vampyrs were tricky bastards.

  Rule number three (and the most important one in her opinion): Never let a Vampyr claim you as mate. Once claimed, legally there was no escape. You belonged to them body and soul.