Gifted To The Dragon: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance (The Gifted Series Book 2)

by Amira Rain

  When I told Desmond to make sure I was up by eight so that I could get to the care home and help my grandma and the other residents with their bird-watching, he said nothing. At first, I'd thought he might have actually fallen asleep already, beating me to it. But a quick shift of my gaze to his eyes, which the dim light revealed to be still open, told me otherwise.

  After a few seconds ticked by and he still didn't speak, I wondered if he thought me getting up in only a few hours just to help some elderly people spot birds was ridiculous or something.

  Which was probably ridiculous for me to jump to conclusions and think that he might be thinking that, but maybe I was just a bit sensitive because a former friend had once asked me if I didn't think going to visit my grandma so often was "kind of a waste of time," since she didn't often remember the visits or recognize me while I was there.

  This insensitive question had hurt me deeply, and had ultimately led to my friendship with this particular "friend" dissolving.

  After giving my throat a little clear, I spoke while fighting possibly-paranoid irritation.

  "Desmond, why the silence? Do you think me getting up to help my grandma and the others is silly, or a waste of time or something? I get that it's not saving the nation from murderous Angels, like dragon shifters do, but-"

  "I don't think that, Madison. I think that you helping your grandma and the other folks at the home is very sweet and worthwhile. Incredibly so...on both those counts."

  Now feeling more than a bit stupid about my little flare-up, I didn't know exactly what to say in return, so I said nothing. And anyway, after looking into my eyes for a moment, Desmond had pulled me a bit closer to his chest and had closed his own eyes, obviously ready to sleep.

  I soon closed my eyes as well, now confident that he'd make sure I was up by eight the next morning. For some reason, I just figured that a dragon shifter, probably used to nights of short sleep while fighting the Angels, would wake up first.

  He did. However, he didn't stick around to make sure I got up by eight. Instead, he had my alarm clock do that job for him. I awoke to the sound of it blaring at eight exactly, and I slapped it off, confused. A quick look told me that my bed was empty.

  Desmond was gone, and he hadn't even left a note. It seemed that he'd at least had the courtesy to set my alarm clock before bolting.

  After taking a shower and dressing, I suddenly sat down on the edge of my bed, fighting tears. I hadn't been quite sure what I'd been expecting. I'd just thought that at least Desmond would be there when I awoke.

  I'd maybe thought he might want to make plans to see me again. I'd definitely wanted to make plans to see him again, though not just because the sex had been incredible. I also thought that maybe Desmond and I had begun to connect on a different level, a heart level, as well.

  Burying my face in my hands, I cried, feeling like a complete fool. After forcing myself to stop in order to have some breakfast, I began sniffling again on my way to the bird-watching expedition, which turned out to be a blessed distraction from my thoughts and how I was feeling.

  Later that day, Nadine called to tell me that she'd officially decided to close the gymnastics center, and very soon. She was sorry, but I'd be unemployed after Saturday morning classes the next day.

  A couple weeks went by. I tried, without much success, not to think about Desmond, our mind-blowing sex, or the way he'd made me feel. I missed my period. Two days later, I took a test. Positive. Went to the doctor's. Positive. Not too long later, I'd shocked all the coffee shop patrons with my little light trick.

  When the home pregnancy test had turned positive, I'd been stunned, horrified, and ashamed. I was pregnant and I didn't even know my baby's father's last name. Didn't even know where exactly in the Midwest he lived. There were hundreds of dragon shifter groups in the area; some people even said there were thousands, if you counted very small dragon groups, and if you counted the states kind of on the borders of the Midwest.

  Feeling like the right thing to do was to at least try to locate and notify Desmond of my pregnancy, I soon made what I hoped was a very casual inquiry at the bar, but the bartender wasn't sure exactly where the dragon group that had recently visited had come from.

  In fact, he confessed that maybe because he "sometimes" had "a couple of drinks on the job," he couldn't even remember the night I'd asked him about, or dragon shifters even ever coming into the bar at all on any night. A similar casual inquiry made to Christy didn't yield any results, either.

  She told me that she'd become a bit too intoxicated on the night in question and had vomited behind one of the classic cars at the car show in the parking lot. The shifter she'd been trying to get into bed had ended up simply walking her to the house she shared with her sister and placing her under the care of her sister before leaving.

  Completely frustrated, in addition to all the other emotions I was experiencing, I soon came to the conclusion that I might never be able to locate Desmond and inform him of my pregnancy. Not unless I wanted to personally visit a thousand dragon shifter groups all across the country, asking for a man named Desmond, which I didn't.

  The task seemed like an impossible endeavor, also a highly embarrassing and time-consuming one, and besides, I had much bigger, more urgent problems, like specifically, my financial situation. With the closing of the gymnastics center, I not only lost my only source of income, I was also losing my incredible, full-coverage, zero-deductible health insurance within thirty days.

  That had all been then. Back in the present, at Eloise's care home the day the government agents had come to take me to Chicago, I responded to Eloise's question about my baby's father by simply saying that no, he wouldn't be coming with me to Chicago. And I'll probably never be seeing him again, I thought.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  In response to what I'd said about my baby's father not coming with me to Chicago, Eloise frowned and started to say something else, but I cut her off, telling her that I had to go.

  "I've got government agents waiting with a car."

  Soon I was in the backseat of that car, sitting with Cynthia, the agent with platinum blonde hair, while her fellow female agent drove, and the lone male agent rode shotgun.

  At first, none of them spoke, and neither did I, but once we'd passed Quincy city limits, Cynthia turned from looking at tall, sunlit trees and asked me if I'd experimented with my power at all since the day in the coffee shop.

  I shrugged. "Not really. And that day in the coffee shop was just a complete fluke; I didn't even mean to do it. It just happened."

  Cynthia nodded. "That's how gifts usually manifest...without the Gifted doing anything. But after that first time, a Gifted has to try to use her power."

  "Well, I did once, for just a minute after I got home that day. Just by thinking about doing it and wanting it to happen, I shot a beam of light from my palm out my living room window and hit a tree in the courtyard behind my building. It made a little puff of smoke come from the tree trunk and I felt bad that I'd probably damaged the tree. After that, I decided that I probably shouldn't experiment with my power anymore for the time being, not wanting to accidentally hurt or damage anyone or anything in my building."

  Cynthia nodded once. "I understand, and that was probably wise. In fact, since we were delayed in getting to you while we were making visits to other recently-discovered latent Gifteds around the country, I was hoping you were being judicious with using your power. Once you get settled into your new home in Chicago, it will be a lot safer for you to use it. Commander Grant actually has training facilities set up where Gifteds can safely practice their powers without fear of causing injury or destruction."

  "Commander Grant?"

  Cynthia frowned at me for just a split-second. "Oh, you must not be familiar. He's the leader of the Chicago dragon shifters, which is the largest group of dragon shifters in the nation. They call themselves the Destroyers, since of course, their job is to destroy Angels and hold Chicago for our country."<
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  Pausing, Cynthia took a sip of bottled water before continuing. "You're probably aware that Angel sorcerers were able to take over the city completely at the time of The Takeover, though they weren't able to keep their new territory for long. Commander Grant and the Destroyers soon reclaimed it and have kept the Angels from returning ever since.

  “It hasn't been easy, however, and it's taken a toll on the city. Many historic buildings and monuments were destroyed in the fighting, and just about half the buildings in the city sustained serious damage. A lot of it has been repaired, but the city will never be the same. And with only a half-million residents, the population is only a fraction of what it once was. The city may seem very different to you, if you've ever been there before."

  "I have. Before The Takeover, I used to go shopping there all the time."

  "Well, seeing it now might be a shock to you, then. The Sears Tower is gone, as is the John Hancock building, and many, many others. Some new buildings have been built, but many of the longtime city residents have found all the new construction very sad and upsetting, obviously. But the saddest thing, I think, was how the Angels essentially made many resident dragon shifters destroy their own city's buildings themselves."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, most of the destruction happened very shortly after The Takeover, when most shifters and Gifteds were first discovering that they were indeed shifters and Gifteds.

  “To make a very long story short, when the United States army was unable to stop the Angels' advance, the newly-turned dragons in the city took it upon themselves to try to stop them by attacking the Angels from the sky.

  “But, very unfortunately, the Angels just shot down these dragons with their light beams, killing most of them and causing their falling bodies to destroy buildings, most of which had been evacuated, thank God.

  “Then, when Commander Grant and his Destroyers came in, they not only had to wrest the city from the Angels, they had to basically rebuild the entire place, all the while, keeping the Angels from taking it over again. Which has become increasingly difficult as of late."

  "Why is that?"

  Toying with the plastic ring around the rim of her water bottle, Cynthia sighed faintly. "The Angels have realized that Commander Grant and his Destroyers are too strong for them, so they've enlisted the help of a few dark-hearted dragons sympathetic to their cause. These dragons were dark-hearted even before they became dragons, I assume, and so they never joined any of the other dragon shifter groups around the country.

  “Offering promises of being leaders in the 'new Chicago,' the angels assembled them from places far and wide to form an army of sorts, and this army has been trying to launch attacks on the city for weeks. This is why all you Gifteds are so badly needed these days, and why you were specifically assigned to Chicago, even though there were a few other places closer to Quincy where you could have been stationed.

  “But you, and numerous other recent Gifteds, have been assigned to work in Chicago because the Destroyers need help. The fear is that if Chicago falls again, the Angels that are to the south will this time keep rolling north, to overtake smaller cities like Quincy and the surrounding towns."

  At the thought of murderous sorcerers taking over Quincy and possibly hurting my grandma, I felt my blood seem to turn to ice water.

  Possibly noticing my sudden unease, Cynthia cleared her throat. "That won't happen, though. I know that Commander Grant, the Destroyers, and all you Gifteds won't let it. So, anyway...”

  Cynthia cleared her throat again, seeming to really want to change the subject, but not quite sure what to change it to. I had no idea, either. Wanting to allow opportunity for things to just fall into silence, I turned my face to look out the window, but at that moment, Cynthia cleared her throat yet again, and this time was the charm. She'd thought of a new topic of discussion.

  "We agents wanted to tell you, Madison, that standard government protocol when we receive notification of a new Gifted is to examine that young woman's background a bit, including a cursory look at medical records. This may seem a bit intrusive, but...we need to make sure that there's nothing medical that might prevent a Gifted from joining in the defense effort."

  I understood, but it actually seemed horribly intrusive.

  "Anyway, when we had a look at your records, our suspicions that you're a latent Gifted were confirmed. You see, now these couple of years after The Takeover, latents...Gifteds who've somehow had their powers activated by a pregnancy...are really the only kind we get anymore.

  “Most 'immediate' Gifteds developed their powers very shortly after The Takeover, and have long since been reported to us. Basically, what I'm trying to lead up to saying, here, is that we know that you're newly pregnant, and that you plan to keep your child, based upon what you told your doctor.

  “And we agents don't want to intrude upon your personal business any more than we already have; but we want to make it clear that if you'd like to invite your baby's father to come live in Chicago with you, that's perfectly fine. Commander Grant has no problem at all with latent Gifteds bringing the fathers of their unborn babies along with them."

  First Eloise and now Cynthia. It seemed as if everyone wanted info about my baby's father, when I myself couldn't even give it. Not only did I not know if he'd want to live in Chicago to raise his child with me, I didn't even know his last name.

  I knew that sometime soon, I was going to have to think of some stock response I could give when being asked about my child's father, because somehow I just knew it was going to be coming up again and again. But right then, I couldn't think; my face was hot and I just felt generally uncomfortable and wanted to change the subject. So, I said pretty much word-for-word what I'd told Eloise.

  "The father of my baby won't be coming with me to Chicago."

  With a slant of sunlight illuminating her softly-lined face, Cynthia studied me for just a brief moment before dipping her head in a nod. "Oh. All right. We just wanted to let you know that the option was available."

  "Thank you."

  I went back to looking out the window, and the car fell silent. I thought about Desmond and wondered where he was. For about the hundredth time, I wondered why he'd left before I'd woken up that morning, and without even leaving a note. I knew with certainty that he'd enjoyed our lovemaking just as much as I had, so I knew that couldn't have been it. I knew he hadn't just bolted from my apartment because the experience had been unsatisfying for him. There was no way anyone could have faked carnal enjoyment on the level that he'd displayed.

  This left me wondering if he just hadn't liked me as a person, specifically as a woman he might want a relationship with. It was odd, though, because I'd really thought that we'd begun to connect on a level other than just the physical. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I'd felt some sort of a genuine spark, at least on my end of things.

  Of course, all sparks aside, I realized that maybe Desmond was just the type of man who didn't like to get very involved with any particular woman. Maybe he was the type that liked his love life to be nothing but a series of one-night stands. I just hadn't gotten that feeling about him, though. Not that my gut feelings about men had been always dead-on in the past, though. Lord only knew I'd been wrong about a man a time or two before.

  The only other explanation for Desmond's abrupt departure that I could think of was that maybe during the night, he'd been contacted by one of his shifters and alerted to some emergency involving the Angels. After all, it seemed that he and the other dragon shifters had been on some sort of a flyover surveillance mission when they'd all stopped at the bar for drinks.

  But if that were the case, that Desmond had received a text or call about some emergency, it just seemed like at the very least, he could have taken five seconds to scribble me a note before leaving, which he could have done with pen and scrap paper on my nightstand. After all, he'd taken the time to set my alarm clock for me, which was kind of a head-scratching thing in an
d of itself. The very fact that he'd done it so that I wouldn't be late to join the bird-watching expedition at the care home indicated that he must have been feeling at least some small shred of caring for me.

  Although, then again, I thought, maybe he'd just set my alarm to assuage a sense of guilt for completely bolting because he felt absolutely nothing for me.

  At first, I'd hoped that Desmond would show up back in town with some sort of explanation that would make perfect sense. But then, when this hadn't happened after a few days, my hope had disappeared.

  Since then, I'd vacillated between anger toward him and something like a sense of pity that he'd never even know about his own child. Mostly, I'd just been trying to forget about him. There was no sense in torturing myself with endless what-ifs, not to mention annoying, brief feelings of longing for Desmond, both on a physical level and an emotional one.

  It was only halfway to Chicago that another what-if occurred to me. I was working incredibly hard not to think about the past, only the future. What if Desmond was married, or had a girlfriend. Dumbstruck, I couldn't believe this hadn't crossed my mind before. I was pretty sure it only had because I'd briefly thought that Cynthia was probably thinking that it was possible my baby's father was a married man.