Pregnant with the Werelion King's Cub (Paranormal Werelion Baby Romance) (Howls Romance Book 2)

by Claire Pike

  Pregnant with the Werelion King’s Cub

  Howls Romance

  Claire Pike

  Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Blurb

  Billionaire lion shifter King Merek Armstrong has a responsibility to his pride. He must mate a suitable lioness. Then he meets Abby Sutton. Merek will do his duty to his pride, but first he must taste Abby. Tomorrow he will announce his engagement to a lioness destined to become his queen. Tonight, he will lose himself in Abby’s body.

  Abby has never been drawn to another man the way she is to Merek. When he invites her to his suite for the evening, she can’t resist his allure and falls prey to his seduction. She gives him her virginity. He gives her a broken heart… And a baby.

  When Merek discovers Abby’s pregnancy, he’s determined break his engagement and claim Abby as his mate. But Merek’s ex-fiancee is not so easily tossed aside. She will be Queen even if she must kill Abby to claim the crown.

  Chapter One

  Abby Sutton flopped down onto the couch, her back aching and her feet on fire after a long day at work. She had worked a five a.m. opening shift at her crappy fast food job, one of two jobs she had to work to keep up with her bills. By the time she’d finished restocking, cleaning the drive-through windows, and mopping at the end of her shift, she was exhausted and more than ready to sleep until the next day. Tomorrow was going to be even worse—another opening shift running the drive-through followed by a night shift at her second job, cleaning rooms at the Armstrong Resort Hotel in downtown Philadelphia. She needed about twelve hours of sleep as well as a good long soak in the tub to prepare for all that.

  She was about to pass out, right there on the couch, when her phone rang. The phone she was still making monthly payments on. She looked at the screen, grumbling. It was her manager at the hotel.

  “No,” she said, without answering the phone. “No, no, no. No way.” She was already working over fifty hours a week between the two jobs, trying to keep up with her rent, pay off her car, juggle her credit card payments, and save up what she needed to get into college. Technically she needed all the hours she could get, but taking on an extra shift wouldn’t bring in enough money to offset how worn out she would be by the end of the night.

  She silenced the ringer and then sat there, trying to decide if she had enough energy to make dinner. Maybe she could afford to splurge on pizza instead. She still hadn’t made up her mind when the phone rang again.

  “Fuck.” She looked at the screen. It was her boss again. If the manager was calling again, it meant she was pretty desperate. And that brought a surge of guilt that Abby couldn’t ignore.

  She whined to the empty apartment for a moment and then answered the phone. “Yeah?”

  “Abby, it’s Nicole.”

  “Hi, Nicole,” Abby said, closing her eyes and rubbing a hand over her face. She already knew where this conversation was heading.

  “Listen,” Nicole said, “I need you to come in tonight. You know that big fundraiser we had scheduled? Well, Kate called in, and you already know Mandi is on maternity leave, so I’m really short-handed.”

  Abby sighed. She didn’t want to go to work. She really didn’t want to go to work. Though at the same time, she was doing the math, estimating how many hours she would work times her hourly rate, and imagining all the groceries she could buy with that extra night’s pay. Not to mention the free dinner she could get from the hotel’s kitchen during her shift.

  “Abby?”

  “Yeah, okay,” Abby said. “I’ll need like an hour to get there.”

  “No rush,” Nicole said. “The fundraiser is still going. It ends at six, so as long as you can be here by then.”

  “I’ll be there.” Abby hung up the phone and sat there for a minute, staring at the ceiling.

  Being poor sucked.

  Since she had the time to spare, Abby took a quick shower and then rubbed some of her Gold Bond pain relieving foot cream on her aching feet before going in. She would have given anything to be able to soak her feet in the massaging foot bath her friend Rosie had gotten her for Christmas, but that would have to wait.

  She headed into work, driving over the bridge into Philly, thankful at least that she was going the opposite direction of the rush hour traffic. Most of the traffic over the Ben Franklin Bridge was heading out of Philly and into New Jersey, as people with normal nine-to-five jobs headed home for the day. Anyone else heading into the city at night was probably heading to the bars and clubs, but of course Abby hadn’t had the time or money to go to a bar in months.

  Three more months, she told herself. That was how long she had to keep up working both jobs before her car was finally paid off. Once her car payment was out of her monthly budget, she’d be able to quit one of her jobs and go back to working normal hours. The hotel paid more, though it offered her less hours. She was hoping to drop the fast food job and move up to full time at the hotel, but that depended on how many hours Nicole could give her.

  By the time she got to the hotel, the fundraiser guests were starting to leave. She clocked in, put on her housekeeper’s smock over her Doctor Who t-shirt, and joined the rest of the cleaning staff lingering outside the ballroom in the Employees Only hall, waiting to get inside and clean up the massive mess.

  She didn’t talk to her coworkers while they waited, even though the other ladies were chatting, mostly about the upcoming elections. She didn’t have much in common with them, especially since they were mostly old enough to be her mother. Abby was nineteen, single, and had been living on her own since she was seventeen. Most of her coworkers were wives, mothers, and in a few cases, grandmothers. Though she did appreciate that they all looked out for her a lot.

  She felt some relief when she heard the voice of her one good friend here, Rosie. “Hey, Abby!” Rosie said, walking over to join her while still pulling on her smock and pinning on her name tag. “I didn’t know you were in tonight. Or did they call you in, too?”

  Abby smirked. “I’m not even supposed to be here today,” she said, proudly quoting one of her favorite movies.

  “Okay, Dante,” Rosie said, snickering. “At least it should be over quickly. Nicole promised once the ballroom is clean, we can go.”

  They headed into the ballroom a minute later, now that the last guest had left. The place was a disaster. The usual dirty dishes and soiled napkins covered all the tables, which wouldn’t have been so bad, but the floor was also covered with about a million pieces of confetti and a scattering of balloons. Plus, there were pamphlets and flyers scattered all around the room.

  “Oh crap,” Abby said, walking out holding a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other. “Confetti. Why did it have to be confetti?”

  “Can we just set it all on fire?” Rosie asked. “I bet confetti lights up real nice. Whoosh!” She made a sweeping gesture with her arms, and for a moment, Abby could picture the entire room going up in flames. It would certainly be better than sweeping up all the confetti. Those little colored dots got absolutely everywhere. The last time Abby had cleaned up a confetti-covered ballroom, she’
d found little rainbow dots in her clothes, shoes, and hair for days after.

  She got to work sweeping up while the other members of the cleaning staff got to work clearing the dishes and trash. At least, she told herself, this was better than cleaning people’s hotel rooms. If she had to pick up one more used condom off a hotel room floor, she would quit. Well, maybe not. Cleaning up used condoms wasn’t half as bad as dealing with the asshole customers who came through the drive-through at her other job.

  She had only swept up about a fifth of the floor when she noticed a trail of confetti leading over to the large glass doors that opened out onto the balcony. Abby grumbled under her breath and slid the glass door open, stepping outside to clean up the mess out there. Clumps of confetti in the shape of footprints led all the way out to the balcony railing, and she followed them along, sweeping up one clump after another. “Goddamn fucking mess,” she muttered to herself. “I hate these fucking fundraisers. Rich people are such self-absorbed slobs.”

  Then she stopped when she realized there was a man standing at the railing, looking out over the city.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. She could tell right away that he must have been one of the rich benefactors from the fundraiser. He was dressed in an immaculately tailored suit, and he held himself with such dignity and pride that Abby had rarely seen. He was also quite stunning, with a muscular physique and a long, full mane of black hair.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Abby said, taking a step back. “I didn’t know anyone was still here. I’m sorry if I intruded.”

  “It’s all right,” the man said. He eyed her up and down, and the look in his hazel eyes made her blush. She wasn’t used to men looking at her like that, especially when she was wearing her bland, concealing housekeeper’s smock.

  “I’ll come back later,” Abby said, turning to go.

  “Wait.”

  She paused, looking back at the man.

  “Do you really think rich people are self-absorbed slobs?” he asked.

  “Uhh…I…that is…umm…” Abby looked around, trying to find an excuse to get out of there before she stuck her foot any farther into her mouth. She couldn’t afford to get fired. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was out here, and I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s all right,” he said, smirking. “You were speaking your mind. Nothing wrong with that. And frankly, you’re probably right. We do tend to be rather self-absorbed and messy. I suppose when you get used to having people paid to clean up after you, you get out of the habit of being courteous and tidy.”

  Abby shifted uncomfortably on her aching feet, keeping her head down. She didn’t know what to say.

  “I’m probably the one who owes you an apology,” the man said, nodding to the confetti on the ground. “I didn’t even realize I was tracking it out here. I’m sorry if I made your job any harder.”

  “It’s okay,” Abby said, a bashful look on her face. She couldn’t quite meet the man’s eyes. “It’s my job. I’m not supposed to complain.”

  “I suppose your employer expects a certain decorum. But I think in this case, it can be excused.”

  He had a humorous smirk on his face, though Abby wasn’t sure why. She got the feeling there was some joke she wasn’t in on.

  “Here,” he said, gesturing her forward, “let me make it up to you. I didn’t originally come out here to drink alone, after all. This was supposed to be champagne for two.”

  He stepped to the side and she saw a champagne bottle and two glasses sitting on the stone railing. Only one of the glasses was filled. The man opened the bottle, filled the empty glass, and then held it out to her.

  Abby looked around, glancing back into the ballroom. She wasn’t supposed to drink on the job, and she wasn’t supposed to fraternize with the hotel’s guests. If anyone saw her, she could get into a lot of trouble.

  She saw Rosie standing by the glass door, peeking out at her. She wasn’t sure how much Rosie had seen or overheard, but she seemed to be encouraging Abby, nodding at her and giving her a thumbs-up. Abby blushed and turned away just as Rosie closed the curtains in front of the glass door, shrouding the balcony in privacy.

  Clearing her throat, Abby stepped forward. She held her broom under her arm so she could take the champagne glass. “I’m really not supposed to.”

  She almost added, and I’m underage, but she didn’t want to seem like a foolish child.

  “I promise not to tell anyone,” the man said. He raised his glass and clinked it against hers. “I’m Merek, by the way.”

  “Abigail,” she said. “Err, well, Abby.”

  He looked at her appraisingly. “No, I think Abigail is more fitting.”

  Abby’s face heated up. She took a sip of the champagne. She’d never tasted champagne before, and the flavor was stronger than she’d expected. She forced herself to swallow it, wincing a bit at the unfamiliar flavor.

  Merek sipped at his champagne, but he didn’t really seem to be enjoying it. In fact, Abby thought there was a pall of gloom hanging over him. She couldn’t be sure why. Though the extra champagne glass gave her a pretty big hint.

  “So,” Abby said, swirling the champagne around in the bottom of her glass, “someone else was supposed to be out here sharing this with you?”

  Merek snorted. “Indeed.”

  Abby decided to take a guess. “A lady someone?”

  A sad smile spread across Merek’s face. “Yes. Though it’s not what you think. Well, not exactly.”

  Abby frowned in confusion. “Not exactly?”

  Merek shook his head, chuckling. “Let’s just say that the woman I was supposed to be drinking this champagne with, we have a…purely political relationship.”

  “Oh. I see.” Abby wasn’t quite sure what a political relationship might consist of. She wondered if Merek was involved in the government.

  She sipped at her champagne, looking out over the city. It was starting to get dark, and lights were starting to come on in the buildings across the skyline. She usually didn’t get much time to enjoy the view, which reminded her that she was supposed to be cleaning.

  “I really should go,” she said, setting the champagne glass down. “I don’t want to get into any trouble.”

  “Nonsense.” Merek took the broom and dustpan from her and set them aside, leaning them against the balcony railing. “If your boss complains, I’ll just tell them I was complimenting you on your cleaning skills. Or asking you where I could get a bucket of ice.”

  He smiled at her, and his smile made Abby feel giddy inside. He took one of her hands, holding it in both of his. A tremble went through her. She wasn’t used to getting this sort of attention. She’d had a religious upbringing, which she had hated. Among the various restrictions her mother had placed on her life, she had never been allowed to date. That was on top of not being allowed to go to college, or wear revealing clothing, or watch any movies that hadn’t contained “approved Christian themes.” The first things she had done when she moved out of her mother’s house were to buy a whole new wardrobe, smoke a cigarette, and watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show. She hadn’t talked to her mother since.

  “Is this really what they make you wear?” Merek asked, tugging at the sleeve of her uniform smock. He frowned at it, rubbing the material between his fingers. “I may have to talk to someone about that. It’s so bland.”

  Abby laughed. “Yeah. Sure. I’d love to see that. I bet the manager will order all new uniforms tomorrow.” She rolled her eyes. The management didn’t tend to take suggestions seriously, even when they came from wealthy, handsome guests at the hotel.

  “I’m sure you have a lovely figure underneath this thing,” Merek said.

  He tugged at the strings on either side of the smock, unlacing them. Abby held her breath, holding very still. Merek held her eyes, waiting. There was a very commanding look in his eyes. Stern and dominant. She swallowed a lump in her throat. Somehow, she felt like she would have a very hard time saying no to him.


  She pulled the smock over her head and dropped it on the ground, letting out a shuddering breath. Merek’s fingers traced faint lines down her sides, softly tickling her skin through the thin material of her t-shirt. His eyes roamed lower, and for a moment she thought he was staring at her chest, until he asked, “Don’t blink?”

  Her face turned bright red. She’d forgotten she was wearing the Doctor Who shirt under her smock. “Yeah. Umm. Sorry. It’s from a TV show.”

  Merek smiled in amusement, putting his hands on her waist. “You’re a bit of a rebel, I see.”

  “I am?” Abby frowned in confusion.

  Merek nodded. “Wearing something that shows your personal tastes, holding on to a bit of individuality underneath your rather unstylish uniform. You don’t like being made to conform, do you?”

  Abby wanted to look away, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away from Merek’s. He was right about her. She’d spent so many years living with her mother, being told she had to dress modestly, to avoid “tempting” the lust of men. She’d been told since before puberty that men couldn’t control their dark, sexual urges, and that it would be her fault if she dressed like a slut and tempted them. Her mother would have said that her t-shirt was too tight against her chest and too low cut. But Abby couldn’t help inhaling deeper, trying to draw Merek’s attention. She smiled when his gaze flicked down toward her chest, and this time, she was sure he wasn’t looking at the writing on her shirt.

  He reached up and caressed Abby’s cheek. She felt her heart start to race. A little voice in the back of her mind told her that she needed to get back to work, that this was a bad idea, but she stamped that voice down and silenced it. She was building to a moment she’d never felt before, and she didn’t want to let it slip away.

  Merek pulled her close, pressing his lips against hers. She tensed up, pressing her hands against his chest, not sure if she should hold him close or push him away. His kiss was hungry and aggressive, claiming her mouth with his. His teeth clamped down on her lower lip, making her gasp. It hurt, but it felt so damn good.