by J. D. Light
Bearly Getting It
Copyright © 2020 J.D. Light
Edited by Ann Attwood Editing and Proofreading Services
Introduction to the Chosen World for Newbies
If you haven't read my Chosen series, then you might need these bits of information. Chosen are humans born with a mark on their body that looks a bit like a Celtic knot. All chosen, when mated to a shifter have the ability to bear special children. These children will be shifters themselves but will also have abilities that other shifters do not. Being a chosen for a male also means that he has the ability to have babies.
Though these books definitely have Mpreg elements, there is no guarantee that they will all end in babies. I consider these books Mpreg-light.
Delphinium is a flower. In our world it is used in bouquets and other flower arrangements because it is pretty and sort of grows in a cluster or stalk. In the Chosen world, it has the ability to mask scent and is used by shifters and other immortals in certain organizations in order to hide their identity, though it doesn't work on all immortals, mainly just shifters and other scent-dominant groups.
In my Chosen series, there wasn't much talk of other immortals, but in my Terra Mortis series––a spin-off of the Chosen––there were a bunch of different species. Though this series will revolve mostly around shifters… and chosen, there will be plenty of other species.
Prologue
Twenty-Three Years Before
"I love how much Hunt loves Dyer," Ridley said, as we watched Hunt babbling at the baby sitting in the baby bouncer, eyes wide as Hunt told him something about his bowboy boots while holding on to the tiny table, and lifted his foot to not so gracefully show him.
Dyer gurgled something back, flailing his hands in the air and making the little bouncer move erratically.
Thankfully, Lexington, Hunt's twin sister and Harris, Dyer's older sister were off playing behind the plastic playhouse in the leap playroom, because I'd be damned if my evil daughter hadn't immediately realized the potential for slingshotting little Dyer right out of the thing the first time we came over, and Ridley'd had the tiny drooler strapped to it.
Hunt had actually surprised everyone when he'd grabbed the back of the bouncer out of Lexington's hand and told her no very sternly, and Lexington had in turn surprised us again when she'd actually listened.
Until that point, Lexington had always been the boss. Hunt had always been my happy, easygoing giggle ball, and Lexington had always been my over-serious glarer who'd scared more than one adult into not coming around by the age of two, but she was mostly harmless… mostly.
She was just grumpy like her Papa and wound a little tight like her Daddy.
"He loves Dyer more than he loves me," I pouted, wondering how I'd already lost my son's heart to another when he was barely over two years old.
Ridley rolled his eyes, but I noticed he didn't argue, and we both sat in silence for a while watching the toddler interact with the infant.
In all honesty, I was happy my sweet boy had found his person already. His protectiveness over Dyer… and honestly, his possessiveness, showed me a side of him we didn't usually get to see.
It made me think that maybe my sweet baby boy wouldn't be as easy a target if… I didn't want to think about that.
Hunt gasped suddenly, turning to run over to where Ridley and I were sitting, immediately reaching for Ridley's shirt. "Beebee eat," he demanded, tugging on the material, and making Ridley laugh.
"Okay, sweetheart. Let's feed our baby."
Ridley stood, reaching for Hunt's hand, and my sweet boy gave it to him easily, allowing himself to be led to the kitchen. When they returned, it was with a bowl of pureed something, and Hunt watched in fascination as Ridley fed Dyer.
Since Dyer was nearly four months old and a shifter baby, he already had several teeth and was actually able to eat far more solid foods than most babies his age, but because Ridley didn't plan on having any more kids for a while, he had fed Dyer for longer than usual from his chest, because he was a sentimental goofball, and I had been sure to make fun of him every single time Dyer bit the hell out of him.
Hunt usually sat in Ridley's lap while Dyer ate from his father, and Hunt held on to the baby's legs, like he was actually doing something to keep him from falling to the floor. But since Ridley had finally stopped breast feeding, they'd started feeding him in the bouncer, and Hunt got even more involved.
This time was no different, and after a few minutes of watching, Hunt climbed up into Ridley's lap, grunting at my best friend until he handed over the bowl… and then proceeded to cover all three of them in what smelled like potatoes and pork chops.
Twenty minutes later, everyone was cleaned off, and Dyer's little eyes were getting heavy. He tried so damn hard to keep his eyes open so he could watch Hunt open and shut the pop-up lion door on one of the toys.
Ridley smiled softly as he unsnapped Dyer from the bouncer, lifting him out of the thing, and Hunt gasped, dropping the toy and making grabby hands at Dyer. "My Beebee."
Chuckling, Ridley nodded at my ridiculous son. "Okay, sweet Hunt. I'll share. He can be your Beebee too, but he's sleepy, okay? He needs to take a nap."
Hunt made a face, clearly not thinking very highly of this nap idea, but at least he allowed Ridley to take the boy back to his room, though he did follow him up to the door, watching Ridley closely in case the man had ideas about taking his Beebee somewhere besides where he'd been told the baby was going.
That was going to turn into a situation when they were older. I could see it now. It was cute when they were so young, but things were going to be a little troubling when they were old enough to go to school.
Not that I was entirely sure I was going to let Hunt go to school. Sure, it wouldn't be fair to force him to stay home with me while Lexington got to go to school and make… Okay, I wasn't kidding myself enough to think that Lexington would actually be successful in making friends, but Harris would, and Lexington would be right there with her and probably scaring away the weak.
I had a few more years to think about it, and Thompsyn had all but forbidden me––pfft. Nice try, Papa Bear––from even thinking about school and everything else right now, since all it did was stress me out, and we really did have plenty of time to think about it, but as the mark on my son's shoulder got darker with age, I couldn't seem to stop thinking about its meaning.
"You look like you're trying to fart," Ridley said dryly, lowering himself down into the two-person chair he usually shared with his mate.
"Please. We both know you’re the gassy one," I grumbled, making Ridley roll his eyes.
"He's going to be fine, Bennett." Ridley swept his hand in Hunt's direction where the kid had finally decided to join his sister and Ridley's oldest now that his Beebee was down. "Look at him. He's already twice the size of all the other toddlers his age. He's going to grow up to be big and strong like his Papa. Plus, he's surrounded by all these shifters. Nobody is going to get him. None of us would let that happen."
I knew all of that… well except that nobody was going to get him. He was big and strong, and with the CREA facility right here in Purdy, plus most of his aunts and uncles being ex FBI… and not to brag, but his dads were pretty damn good at fighting as well, he was probably one of the safest kids in the world, but I'd seen so much bad shit over the last twenty-six years. Chosen kidnapped and sold and then sold again. I'd seen basement facilities tricked out with chains for keeping chosen, and I'd seen beds with straps on them meant for holding them down while soulless shifters
did unspeakable things to them.
I’d nearly fainted the day we'd seen the mark on Hunt's shoulder. It had been so light it was barely visible when he was born, but as the days passed, it had darkened considerably, and I'd finally had to accept that my son was somehow just like his father. One of the rare children of chosen that were also chosen.
I sighed, letting my head fall back against the couch where I was slumped. "I know. I just can't help but worry. I feel like if I let my guard down at all, I'll lose my baby boy."
Ridley nodded, and we both fell silent. I wasn't usually known for my seriousness. Most people would actually probably consider me irreverent and maybe even ridiculous unless the situation called for it. I hadn't made lieutenant at such a young age off of my looks, but in normal situations, seriousness just didn't suit me. Worrying however? I could worry with the best of them, especially when it had to do with someone I loved.
"We'll all do our best to protect him, Benny. We all love him so damn much. Every member of this leap would risk their life for his."
"You better, especially since he's probably Dyer's mate." I chuckled, but I couldn't deny that it was probably a huge possibility considering how much the kid obsessed over that baby. "Wouldn't that be crazy?" And kinda wonderful at the same time. "As long as he isn't horrified by my ugly little grizzard."
Ridley huffed, rolling his eyes. "They aren't going to be ugly… or grizzards."
I hid my smile. Ridley got so pissy when I acted like my kids were going to be disfigured hybrids because one parent was leopard and the other was a grizzly. I knew they wouldn't. They would either be one or the other, but try insinuating differently to their uncle.
"We'll see."
Chapter One
Twenty-Three Years Later
My laughter died when my best friend in the whole world threw his head back laughing, my stomach doing a strange swoopy thing I didn't much appreciate as he exposed the long, pale lines of his throat to the camera on his laptop.
I'd just been telling him about the fight I'd witnessed at Bentley's between three of the instructors at the academy here on Terra Mortis and how it had ended in a brooming when the insane redhead, Briec, had gotten sick of Larrin's bitching and tried to beat him with a chair. Young had jumped up on the table, egging it on, only to be knocked off on a back swing, and the three of them had literally started rolling around the patio––thankfully outside of the actual café––looking not unlike one of those fucking cartoon scraps where you couldn't see who was hitting who, but there were limbs sticking out of a dust cloud and someone was growling.
Bentley had come outside with a broom and beat the three of them all at once, breaking it up. How he’d managed, I wasn't sure, since he only had one arm and was tiny and a human, but they stopped pretty quickly.
I guessed when you were mated to the dean of the academy and lived on an island with mostly immortals, you learned to aim for the eyes. It didn't seem to matter that Briec was a witch, Larrin was a gargoyle and Young was a vampire. Taking a dirty broom bristle to the eyeball probably hurt.
I licked my lips as Dyer continued to laugh, shifting in my seat. He just seemed to be getting more and more beautiful every single day, and even living in the middle of the damn Caribbean these last few years hadn't helped calm that draw I'd started to feel before I left.
I'd only gotten to see him in person a handful of times since I'd moved from Purdy to Terra Mortis to finish my training and then start my job at the CREA based on the island, but I'd cherished every single moment and probably driven him crazy with how often I'd hugged him during those times. Unfortunately, they had also made me realize some things I wasn't quite sure I'd been prepared to realize and the fact that he was fifteen hundred miles away right then, didn't seem to factor into these urges I still refused to name.
Denial was the only thing keeping me sane these days, especially since I couldn't take being away from him and the rest of my family in Purdy anymore, and had finally gotten to a place in my career where I actually felt like I might be getting judged on my work in the CREA and not just because of who my parents were.
I was finally heading back home for an unknown amount of time… and that meant having a temptation I was desperate not to name far too close.
I just wasn't sure what I was supposed to do about any of it. Dyer was my person. There had never been any denying that. Even being two years older than him, I'd had him by my side nearly every moment of every day when we were growing up, and even though we'd both known it was something I'd needed to do, the hardest day of both of our lives had been when I'd moved to Terra Mortis while he'd stayed back in Purdy.
We'd both been blubbering messes, and I'd nearly missed my flight that day. If it hadn't been for my dad reminding us that we'd have to go through it all over again if I didn't get on that plane right then, I might not have ever actually boarded the damn thing.
I couldn't live without my Beebee… but I was starting to worry a little about how I was going to live with my Beebee and not do something incredibly stupid.
As his chin started to lower, I swallowed hard and forced myself to stop staring at the muscles of his neck and the spot where they met his jawline where I knew the skin was incredibly soft, since I'd nuzzled him there hundreds, if not thousands, of times during our twenty-three-year friendship, but I did a double-take when I noticed a familiar looking chain resting just above the collar of his T-shirt.
"Dy, why are you wearing that necklace?" I asked, narrowing my eyes and leaning forward to get a better look. "I thought you were taking the capsules like all the other CRC people."
Dyer was a psychologist for the CRC––Chosen Rehabilitation Center––which was based out of Purdy. More had popped up in other places, just like the CREA facilities, but Purdy was the original.
The name pretty much said it all. After chosen were rescued, if they chose, they could go to one of the CRC facilities for recovery. They offered therapy and self-defense training as well as schooling and career development.
There was actually a young man who'd been claimed at sixteen, had his bond severed when another shifter killed his mate and then was claimed again. The poor guy managed to kill the shifter that claimed him the second time, but not before he'd been impregnated, and before he could even get out of the pride where he was being held, another shifter had caught him and locked him up. When the CREA had finally found him three years ago, he was nineteen, practically a shell of a human, days away from giving birth and terrified of all shifters but one, but at least he hadn't been claimed by anyone else.
He still lived in Purdy and had actually made quite a few friends within the leap. His three-year-old son looked almost identical to him and even given the circumstances of his conception were terrifying and terrible, Presley adored that little boy.
Dyer curled his lip, reaching up to touch the charm that was hidden under his shirt and looked away from the camera. "I stopped taking it."
"What?" I gasped, nearly toppling the chair I'd been leaning back in––though I probably shouldn't be leaning back in the thing, considering my three-hundred-twenty-pound weight, but some habits were hard to break. "Your dads are going to kill you."
He sighed, rolling his eyes. "We're shifters, Hunt. We're supposed to be able to fucking smell things. Plus, I swear it made me sick."
"It has never made anyone else sick."
"I almost felt weaker." I raised an eyebrow, making him scoff. "I'm just back to carrying my necklace in my pocket or wearing it when I don't have pockets and washing my clothes in the fabric softener. As long as they can't smell me, I'm fine."
I groaned, letting my head fall back on my shoulders dramatically. "You shouldn't have told me. Now I'm an accomplice."
He blew air through his lips before pursing them and giving me a dry look. "Don't think I don't see the chain around your neck. You don't take that shit either."
"I can't do undercover work without a scent, Dy. A person without a scent is pret
ty suspicious. That would be a sure way to give away what I do."
Not to mention one of the most recent human trafficking rings that involved chosen was said to be run by a number of non-shifter immortals, meaning the delphinium wouldn't work on them.
"Why do they let you get away with that shit, but not me? You're higher risk than I am."
I was higher risk because of my mark, but if he thought I hadn't had to nearly have an actual roll on the ground fight with my dad the last time he came to Terra Mortis just so he'd fucking leave me alone about it, he must have forgotten how over-the-top protective Bennett Lane was. "I use scent casters. I might not be able to go undercover without a scent, but I'll be damned if the scent is going to be mine. It took me throwing off the scent of a dragon for my dad to finally drop it."
"A dragon?" he squeaked, his beautiful green eyes widening dramatically. "You're going to get yourself killed one of these days."
"Trust me, if you throw a dragon scent around, nobody messes with you."
"Except other territorial dragons."
I shook my head, smirking. "Martigan is still the only dragon on the island, and I have a dragon trap if something like that happens… not to mention my super-strength."
It was fun to remind Dyer how strong I was. He got all pissy about it.
"You don't have super-strength," he grumbled, dropping his chin into the palm of his hand where his elbow was propped on the desk I couldn't see.
"Actually, I really do."
It was actually my chosen-child gift, and though it wasn't like Superman type strength, I would say it was comparable to that of a dragon and was very useful when it came to my job.
All children born of a chosen, had gifts. Some were small, like one of the Walt brothers, who'd yet to find anything useful for his warming power other than heating his mate's coffee, and others were as awe inspiring as my ability to lift a full-size pick-up truck over my head and throw it ten yards.