ROMANCE: NAVY SEAL ROMANCE: Morning After (Military Bad Boy Pregnancy Romance Collection) (New Adult Alpha Male Paranormal Short Stories Collection)
Page 23
Four more Southpaws went down. By Tara’s calculations, the war was about fifty/fifty in no one’s favor. She wondered how long they’d go at each other.
Then, the massive wolf in the trees howled. Curious, Tara flitted into the air and watched. All of the Southpaw dogs began to retreat from the west, north and south. The Darkriders and Blackstones followed them, just inside the territory. Everyone congregated on the east side of the line and waited.
Then, Tara realized that the large red wolf must be the Southpaw alpha. He was challenging Gage and the Shaw.
Shaw loped forward and stood next to Gage. Then the packs cleared away from all three alphas. The arena was set. Battle would be done and the last one standing would rule everything.
The Southpaw alpha was bigger than Gage and Shaw and probably much younger. Tara could tell by the sheen on his coat that he was just recently full grown. He was a bold alpha and that scared her.
Before another thought could cross her mind, the Southpaw dug in and leapt for Shaw. He was picking on the older one, trying to out him so he could fight Gage. When the red dog took Shaw to the ground, Gage jumped on his back and clawed him deep. Soon, blood seeped out of the wounds and the hound rolled over with Shaw. Shaw struggled to get away, and managed to, but he was badly hurt. A wound from his neck bled into his fur. He shook his head as the Southpaw rushed him again. This time, Gage caught the beast and took him to the swamp floor. The rolled and rolled.
Tara was dizzy just watching them. She wanted to be sick. Her love was entangled in this horrible mess because of a greedy young were. She wished she could do something to help, but she was just a bird and this was a man’s war. She had no place in it. She just sat and waited impatiently.
Finally, the weres stopped rolling and Gage got a good swipe in, across the Southpaw’s nose. But then the Southpaw swiped back, knocking Gage away. Gage’s cheek was gouged and his brow was bloody. He stalked the red beast before him with Shaw taking up the rear.
If a were could look worried, The Southpaw did. His plan to take out the camps failed and he underestimated the strength in Shaw. He backed to the edge on the territory, but there was nowhere to go. Wolves lined the boundary and once a were picked a fight with an alpha, it was to the death.
Gage jumped first and Shaw waited for an opening. The Southpaw and Gage fought on their hind legs, clawing and biting. Shaw came around the back of the Southpaw and embedded his claws in his back. The were yelped and fell back down to all fours. He ran away from Gage and readied himself again.
The Southpaw and Shaw hit again, head to head, knocking each other down. Shaw was out cold while the Southpaw stirred. But Gage hit him in the ribs the moment he was up and then delivered the final blow. He tore the were’s insides out with two swipes of his massive paws. The red beast fell to the ground, lifeless. Then Gage went down too.
All three alphas lay there, bleeding and still.
Chapter 8
It had taken a week for Gage to heal from his wounds. Tara stayed by his side the entire time, with Hayden’s blessing. Shaw was taken back to his camp where she heard he was doing better.
Gage had declined to take all of the Southpaw pack for himself. He gave Shaw half of the members. All of the members were to be enslaved until they proved to be worthy. The alliance between the Blackstones and the Darkriders remained and was stronger than ever.
Tara walked into the bedroom with Gage’s meal. He would be able to get out of the bed today. His broken bones had healed, thanks to his werewolf half.
“Here. Eat, get your strength and then get out of that bed for me,” Tara told him.
Gage chuckled. What Tara didn’t know, is that Hayden had been helping him recover for the last three days. He hadn’t been able to walk and he didn’t want Tara seeing him like that. He also wanted to surprise her with his recovery.
“The food can wait,” he said, placing it on his nightstand. He hopped out of the bed and grabbed Tara to him and while she was wide eyed, he kissed her.
“But—,“ she started.
“Shhhhh. I’ll explain later,” he said.
*****
THE END
GO BACK TO TOP
Enjoy what you read? Please keep flipping to the end of the book to leave a review on Amazon. Thanks!
Sign up Here to receive links to the hottest new romance E-books on Kindle delivered directly to your inbox every week! (Click the link or enter(http://dfkindlepublishing.wix.com/silverocean)into your browser)
Did You Enjoy That??!!!
Keep Scrolling Down…There is So Much More!
Sealed and Delivered
“Ugh, remind me why I agreed to this,” Delanie groaned into her cell phone as she pulled on a pair a yoga pants. She hated not being able to wear her old, comfortable jeans, but she was finally just far enough into her pregnancy that the waistband had begun to dig into her baby bump and slightly widened hips. She could hear Anthony's chuckle through the speaker of her phone.
“Because you love us and want us to be happy,” Anthony said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. And five months or so ago, it would have been. Now, though? Now Delanie was trying to get by with leggings and yoga pants almost exclusively because she was too stubborn to buy maternity clothes. Or even bigger clothes, even. Maybe it was a point of stubbornness, but she had rationalized that she didn't want to spend a fortune on clothes she was just going to outgrow in another three months or so. She had resigned herself to buying clothes at the end of the second trimester of the pregnancy, because she knew deep down she wasn't going to avoid it forever.
It just might have to be slightly sooner, if she couldn't keep her cravings in check.
“Well, yeah, but seriously,” she huffed at the way the elastic waistband of the pants were beginning to cling a little too tightly to her sides as she went over to the mirror to inspect herself. “Why couldn't you and Michael just adopt or something?” Though she had a baby bump, the skin there wasn't too squishy or flabby, and was clearly not where she was holding her weight gain, however slight it might have been. Turning even slightly in any direction gave her predicament away, as her hips and rear end had certainly expanded in the five months she had carried the baby. She may not have been necessarily thin before she agreed to this, but what figure she did have beforehand was clearly buried under a new cushion of fat. Ah well, she'd thought. It wasn't too bad, and really, it was just a problem with her pants that she figured would be an issue at this point anyway.
“We looked into it, but you know how things are out there, 'Lanie,” her expression softened, as she knew precisely why two gay men, one of which an active duty service member no less, couldn't get approved for an adoption. “Besides, then you wouldn't be involved. And we already promised to pay for your liposuction, if you really wanted it after the delivery.”
“I know, I know,” she grimaced when she ran a hand along the dome encasing Anthony and Michael's baby, now noticeably less slight than it had been a few months ago. “It's just wreaking havoc on my emotions right now,” and she knew it was true; in the grand scheme of things, as long as she wasn't obese, she wasn't bothered by a little extra weight on her body normally. She liked to stay in the average weight range, and if she went slightly over that? No skin off her nose. But the pregnancy has left her emotions and insecurities working overtime to send her on a roller coaster of ups and downs. The ten pounds she had put on felt like fifty, and she knew it was because she was suddenly insecure about her appearance.
“I'm sorry, Delanie,” Anthony's joking tone dropped off into a soft, sincere timbre. And he was, truly; neither he nor his husband had any notion that Delanie wouldn't walk away from this unchanged. And that was why they, as her best friends of almost two decades, had resolved to try and make the during and after as comfortable as possible for her. She smiled.
“Oh, you hush,” she giggled. She padded into the kitchen for some almond milk. “It'll all be worth it for you two to have the cutest d
amn baby ever.” Forgoing a glass in favor of popping the cap off of the carton, she closed the refrigerator and sipped from the plastic lip of the carton.
“You know just what to say to make things better,” he laughed again. She hummed in affirmation as she kept drinking. There was only about quarter of the carton left of the milk, and it was going to go bad in a few days, anyway, she thought to herself. The sensation of cold liquid hitting her tummy made the baby kick in alarm, and she was quick to rub a hand over her bump to soothe the little bun in the oven. “Have you eaten lunch yet? How are your clothes fitting, by the way?” She rolled her eyes.
“No, I haven't eaten lunch quite yet. Just had some milk, though. As for my clothes,” she tugged at the waistband absentmindedly. “...I could do with some new ones.”
“Frankly, I'm surprised you admitted it,” Anthony said with no small amount of surprise. “But how about I pick you up? The three of us can go out for lunch, and we can get you some more comfortable clothes?” Though she hummed as though she were pondering whether or not she wanted to, her mind was made up the minute he offered; she had never turned down the opportunity to hang out with her best friends (or deny them the chance to talk/pet her baby bump. The kid inside was theirs, after all,) and her refrigerator was bare, save for some celery and some decaf green tea.
“Sure. What time should I expect you?” She said. She went back into her room to rummage through her closet for clothes more suitable for being out of the house; her yoga pants weren't going to do much to keep out the winter cold.
“I can be there in an hour.”
“Great, see you then!” With a quick goodbye, the call ended. She threw her closet open and started searching for some baggier, warmer pants. She sighed when she noted the considerable lack of warm pants. At least she was getting some new clothes, she thought once she had changed into much warmer sweatpants and pulled on a baggy hooded sweater that hung low over her backside for good measure. Having succeeded in finding more comfortably practical clothing for her newfound adventure for the day, she plopped on the couch and settled for reading a book to pass the time.
Right on time with nary a second to spare, he pulled up into her driveway with a staccato tap of his horn to announce his arrival. Tucking a bookmark in her book and setting it down, she slipped on her shoes and stepped outside. After she locked the door, she dashed to the car parked in her driveway to keep prolonged exposure to the autumnal chill at minimum.
“Don't you have a thicker coat than that?” Anthony asked once she had hopped into the passenger seat and pulled the seat belt over herself.
“Yeah, it's still a the dry cleaners, though.” Anthony nodded in understanding before craning his neck to see behind them. Pulling out of her driveway, they were soon on the road again, the relatively short distance between the two homes.
“How's the baby?” He asked after moment's hesitation. She snorted in laughter.
“You know if I tell you anything before Michael knows, Michael's just going to pester us both about it.”
“I know, you're right. But I can't help it! It's all so exciting!” He grinned, practically bouncing in his seat with an infectious sort of giddiness that Delanie couldn't help but laugh and reciprocate. The remainder of the short car ride was spent talking about idle topics, like the weather, Anthony's work on base with his team, and how Delanie's book reviews have been coming along on her site. Before long, Anthony was pulling into his and Michael's expansive garage attachment to their luxurious home.
“Still can't believe you two managed all this,” Delanie breathed as she took in the massive home. Anthony chuckled as he locked the car and trotted after her.
“Well, my pay isn't so bad, and ever since Michael got promoted to chairman at his company, we've been able to make an expansion for a baby.”
“The baby needs its own wing?”
“Not at first, no,” he admitted as they stepped inside. “But when the kid gets older, and there will be friends to have over, or hobbies to indulge in, there'll be plenty of room.”
“You've really thought of everything, haven't you?” She blinked stupidly at him. She was, frankly, a little surprised that they had thought that far ahead until she remembered how desperately they wanted to have a child. She wouldn't have been surprised if, when she was allowed to step in the nursery after the paint's dried, that they had everything they could possibly ever need for the kid's first three years of life. 'You're going to be loved to much,' she thought as she smoothed a hand over the baby's bump. 'And even without me buying you stuff, you're gonna get the shit spoiled out of you on holidays.'
“Ah, honey, thank goodness you're back,” Michael said as he came to greet them. With a quick hug and kiss to Delanie and Anthony respectively, he stepped back. “Vic stopped by, said he wanted to speak to you.”
“Shit,” Anthony muttered before straightening to his full height as a man unfamiliar to Delanie stepped in. “Commander Thompson, sir. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Ah, calm your ass down, Bradford. I'm just here to let you know what's going on this week for the field op,” the man said, large calloused palms opened in a calming manner, as though he were trying to hush a spooked animal. The two men began to talk shop about their job, and Delanie passed the time taking in the appearance of the newcomer.
Head completely buzzed, with only the shortest of dark stubble on both the top of his head, and where his beard would be, if he were to ever grow one covered most of his face. She was mostly just impressed both cuts were so thoroughly uniform; he must have been doing that for ages. Olive skin complimented his brilliant sunset colored eyes well, like drops of caramel atop a latte. There were tattoos that peeked out here and there on him, she was sure- a jagged line of black peeking over his t-shirt neckline and sleeve, another that brushed his collarbone on the opposite side. She wondered where he had other tattoos, if he had any others to speak of. Well sculpted muscles were pulled tight when he crossed his arms and shifted his weight from one foot to the next, and she squirmed from what those bulging guns were doing to her.
Ordinarily, she might have contemplated flirting with him a little, to test the waters of his potential interest in her. Nothing invasive, and certainly nothing that would interrupt a clearly important conversation about work; just a friendly hello once the two men had finished talking, a paid compliment to a tattoo, asking if she could see it to admire the ink work, and if he didn't seem to reciprocate her playful manner, it would end there, and she would just be polite. And she had half a mind to do it, until she shifted ever so slightly and felt the baby kick particularly hard for a few seconds when she moved. An unfamiliar and uncomfortable sensation, she winced, and any feelings of boldness died on the spot. It was bad enough she was feeling especially insecure about the recent changes to her body, no sense in adding rejection at the first hurdle of flirtation on top of it. With how traitorous her hormones have been, she would probably lock herself in their bathroom and sob grossly until one of them coaxed her out with a cup of hot tea.
“Oh, sir, how rude of me!” Anthony sidled up beside Delanie, as if sensing her inner turmoil. “Allow me to introduce you to Delanie Shores,” her self appointed wingman urged her forward gently. “She's been my friend for longer than I can remember, and was just so kind to offer to be our surrogate mother!” The man, Victor, blinked in surprise as he took her in, and she struggled not to curl into herself under his heated gaze.
“U-um,” she stammered, but offered a trembling hand. “Good to meet you.” Victor took her hand and shook it greeting, his grip surprisingly soft for a man who seemed so gruff.
“Ah, apologies, I tend to keep my head far too into my work.” His scarred lips quirked into a grin. “Lieutenant Bradford here hasn't shut up about how great you are for doing this for them.” She coughed out an embarrassed laugh while making a mental note to strangle Anthony within an inch of his life when his commanding officer wasn't staring at her with such captivating eyes.
“No wonder Bradford's such a good squad member. He's used to the two of you having each other's backs,” He looked far away for a moment. “That's a rare thing to have. Both in and out of the military.” She wondered what his story was, and found that she wanted to find out what could put that flash of sadness in his golden gaze.
“That makes what I'm doing all the more important then,” she said with a surprising amount of firmness. “That,” she grinned at Anthony. “And he needs to remember to eat enough.” Victor squinted his eyes at her as though he were trying to connect dots that she couldn't see.
“Are you the one that keeps giving Bradford cookies and shit to bring to work?” She visibly shrunk at his narrowed stare and nodded. She loved to bake, but she had no idea Anthony brought them to share amongst his peers. Victor's stare softened into a wide, excited smile.
“Those Blondie brownies are the best damn things I've had in a while. You'll have to make them again sometime and have Anthony send some my way.”
“Or I could just give them to you directly?” The offer was out before she could rethink it, and now she was sure she was going to have to be led out of a thoroughly gross crying session in the bathroom with tea. Maybe some chocolate to go with it. This would be the part where he laughed at her and would tell her she's too fat for him or something, she just knew it. So she sucked in a breath and waited for the inevitable.
“Or that could work. But how on earth could you possibly get them to me in a more direct manner?” He flashed her a toothy grin. After a heartbeat's pause to register that he was, in fact, flirting with her, she did her best to slip into her flirtatious tone of voice.