Wes chuckled. “I like that idea. We could spend the afternoon in bed practicing.”
“Practicing what?” Emma peeked out from under the pillow.
“Practice making a cub.” Wes grinned as he waggled his eyebrows at her. “You know what they say about practicing.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think this one needs to be born before we practice making another one?” She gently patted her stomach. She pulled the pillow back over her eyes.
The pillow suddenly disappeared. Emma blinked before she closed her eyes against the bright glare filling the bedroom. Two seconds later she found herself tucked against the very warm body of her mate. Her stomach did a couple of rolls. Emma swallowed several times but it seemed to make the queasy feeling worse. “Let me up.”
“What’s wrong?” The laughter was gone from Wes’s voice and replaced with concern and worry.
“Move,” muttered Emma. She covered her mouth with her hand as she quickly rolled off the bed and dashed to the bathroom. She made it just a second to spare. She hung her head over the toilet as dry heaves racked her body. “This sucks,” she said as the queasiness slowly eased.
She heard the water splash in the sink but she didn’t have the energy or time to turn and look.
“Here you are babe,” said Wes. He handed her a warm, wet washcloth.
“Thanks.” She wiped her mouth. Her stomach rolled and twisted, but the worse of it seemed to have passed…at least for now. She folded the washcloth and wiped her face.
Wes took the washcloth and rinsed it. “Do you want it back?”
She shook her head as she slowly stood up. “Throwing up is bad, but I think the dry heaves are the worse.” She snorted. “I don’t know why they call it morning sickness when it happens all hours of the day and night.”
Wes pulled her gently into his arms and kissed her forehead. “Sick or not, you are beautiful.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “You say that now but what about when my feet swell twice their normal size. I grow as huge as a house, and I’m waddling everywhere like a duck or I’m stuck in a chair because I not only look like a beached whale but I’m actually as big as one.”
“I’ll rub your feet and carry you everywhere you need to go. I know your body is going to go through a lot of changes, but you will still be beautiful to me. I can’t wait to see each change in your body as our cub grows inside you. I can’t wait to see our son or daughter nursing from your gorgeous breasts.” He touched her chin with his other hand.
Emma looked up into his warm chocolate brown eyes. “I love you, Wes Durant.”
“And I love you, Emma Starr…soon to be Emma Starr Durant.” He kissed her.
Raw desire surged through Emma’s body. She grew damp between her thighs.
Wes growled his approval. He pulled her flush against his body and rested his chin on top of her head. The sweet scent of her desire sent his blood rushing to his cock.
He thought about the day he had almost lost her. In some ways, it was hard to believe it had happened almost a month ago. Yet the memory was still fresh in his mind as if it was only a day ago. He thanked the goddess daily for sending the Other to eliminate the hunter and for leaving Emma in his life. The real irony of the whole thing was that Wes had the hunter to thank for taking Orson Goodwin out of the equation. The warlock would never hurt Emma or anyone else.
“Wes?”
He tightened his arms around her. “I’m fine,” he said.
Emma rubbed her cheek against his chest. “I’m safe. Neither the hunter nor Orson can hurt me ever again. Aunt Susan and April can’t hurt me anymore either.”
“I know.” He sighed. “There will be more hunters. Mason West said he heard the one he killed talking on the phone.” Wes closed his eyes. “I’m worried about you and our cub. What if…”
“You can’t go there. If you do, then the hunters, Orson and everyone else like them have won. I’m not letting them win.” She smiled. “Besides, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“That you are a very wealthy woman and I’m going to become your kept man.”
Emma laughed. “You are funny. I still can’t believe Aunt Susan managed to keep my inheritance hidden all these years. It was nice being able to hire a manager and a couple of clerks for the bookstore. But that’s not what I need to talk to you about.” Her stomach growled. “Really! I was just hanging over the toilet and now I’m hungry.”
“Our cub is hungry.” Wes grinned.
She rolled her eyes. “A snack would be nice. I have a feeling I’m going to be eating twice as much or more than I normally do. Your cubs are already demanding stuff,” said Emma.
“My…” Wes stepped back and stared at her. “My cubs?” He paled.
“Are you okay? I didn’t break you, did I?” Emma’s eyes widened. Wes looked like he was going to pass out.
“You’re carrying more than one cub?”
“Twins. We’re having twins,” she said.
Wes gently picked her up and carried Emma back to the bedroom. He put her in the middle of the bed and laid down next to her. “You’re really carrying twins?”
Emma nodded as she caressed her mate’s cheek. “I’ absolutely positive.”
Wes placed his hand on her stomach. “Twins. Our twins. I promise to protect you and your mother.”
Tears filled Emma’s eyes. “And I promise with all my heart to protect you and our cubs from here to eternity.” Her stomach growled again.
Wes grinned. “Our cubs are hungry. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He got up and rushed out of the bedroom.
Emma shook her head and laughed. She put her hands on her stomach. “You two already have your daddy wrapped around your tiny paws.” She smiled. Closing her eyes, she sent a pray to Miss Martha, thanking her for Wes and the cubs she was carrying. The future was looking bright and shiny.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I have lived in many different towns and cities during my married life, but I have always lived in Texas. I live with my husband who indulges my addictions to books, pens, coffee, stickers, and planners. I also have to very spoilt cats that run the household. I dream of either “retiring” or “quitting” my day job so I can write full time.
When I’m not writing, I love reading, science fiction, coffee, and hot tea. I also enjoy photography, fishing, playing poker (Texas Hold’em), rummaging through flea markets, and spending time with my husband.
It is rare to find me without a pen and a notepad, because I’m constantly jotting down stuff. My head is full of story ideas and characters.
I would love to hear from you.
http://raynerachels.blogspot.com
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OTHER BOOKS BY RAYNE RACHELS
Bryant Station Curves series
Lisa’s Bear (Book 1)
Chasing Tara (Book 2)
Abby’s Heart (Book 3)
Saving Courtney (Book 4)
Lauren’s Mate (Book 5)
Claiming Harley (Book 6)
Joy’s Forever (Book 7)
Surviving Ivy (Book 8)
Bryant Station Curves Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
Bryant Station Curves Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)
Reluctantly Undead series
Reluctantly Undead (Book 1)
Briary Creek Wolves series
Bailey’s Secret (Book 1)
Gracie’s Wolf (Book 2)
Brimstone Heat
Lucifer (Book 1)
Tangled Fates
Chance to Love Again (Bear Shifters)
Wolf for Christmas (Wolf Shifters)
Durant Brothers
Mated Hearts (Book 1)
RELUCTANTLY UNDEAD
Ember Winterstone is not having a good night. She wakes up i
n a dumpster. Her neck hurts where her date used her as a meal. Vampire hunters chase her, and the other vampires think she is the real queen, especially since she is a day walker, eats food, drinks almost no blood, and stands up to Zophia, the psycho vampire queen.
Ember’s problems have just begun.
Her mother has kept a couple of major secrets from her. The two men who make Ember drool refuse to claim her. The psycho vampire queen decides Ember must die.
EXCERPT:
I do not know if it was the smell of rotting trash or the cat licking my face, but something woke me. Maybe it was a combination of the two. Either way, I was awake and I was clueless as to where I was, and to top it all off, my neck ached.
I took a deep breath.
Bad mistake!
The smell of rotting trash filled my lungs. I gagged several times, but that wasn’t the worse of it. My face was pressed up against the remains of someone’s Chinese meal, and not just any Chinese meal.
Oh no, it had to be sweet and sour pork. Dry heaves racked my body as soon as I smelled it. Sweet and sour pork is not my favorite meal. In fact, for me, it is the meal of death.
One night, when I was about thirteen years old, mom worked late, so my stepfather brought home Chinese take-out. Later that evening, my stomach started hurting and by bedtime, I was in the bathroom hugging the toilet and wishing I would just go ahead and die.
I spent two days with the toilet as my best friend and another three days barely able to keep down chicken broth and crackers. I have never seen mom so concerned or angry. I later found out, the sweet and sour pork Henry brought home had sat in his hot car for most of the day, and I was the only one who ate it.
Ever since the incident, I had a nagging feeling I couldn’t get rid of. Henry had tried to kill me with tainted sweet and sour pork, and it would have looked like an accident. People die all the time from food poisoning, but I was just a kid and I didn’t have any kind of proof. Henry apologized several times, but a little voice in the back of my brain told me to watch him.
Now, when I see or smell sweet and sour pork, I get physically ill. Maybe it was all in my head. I don’t know, but the experience at thirteen left a very lasting impression. Don’t get me wrong. I love Chinese food. Beef and broccoli, egg rolls, Kung Pao chicken, fried rice are all my favorites, but sweet and sour pork is the food of death.
And there it was.
Yesterday’s leftovers were staring me in the face, taunting me after all these years of avoiding them.
That’s it!
Another set of dry heaves erupted from my body. Not funny! My stomach’s violent attempts to empty itself weren’t doing anything to help my aching neck.
I had to get out of here, wherever here was, but sitting up wasn’t so easy. Every time I moved, the stuff underneath me shifted. The large black bags on each side of me didn’t help either. They kept rolling on top of me. I felt like I was in one of those multi-colored ball pits you find in the playground areas of fast food restaurants. You move and the balls move, filling in the space you just vacated. The more I struggled, the more the black bags moved. After what seemed like forever, I managed to fight my way into a sitting position.
I looked around.
My brain started functioning, and it dawned on me.
I was in a dumpster—a stinking, nasty, filthy, rotting trash-filled dumpster!
I couldn’t believe it. I mean, how did I get in here? I didn’t exactly climb in willingly. I can’t even stand opening the large green trash can when I take out the trash at home. The smell—especially in summer—is enough to gag a maggot! My climbing into the dumpster on my own was off the list of possibilities.
I sniffed and looked down.
My jeans!
There was no way I was going to get the ode de trashcan funk out of my jeans.
I groaned.
I just bought them, and they fit good…really good! It’s not easy finding jeans to fit a size 16 frame, especially with a butt like mine.
I was pissed.
Someone was going to pay for them, just as soon as I figured a way out of the gross, over-sized tin can in which I was buried.
Glancing around, I sighed. The dumpster was only half-full, so getting out probably wasn’t going to be easy.
Pulling myself into a sitting position was an act of Congress, but standing? That had me clueless.
I pushed and shoved stuff out of my way. I started to groan when I heard a sound. At least, I thought I heard something. I got really still and waited.
Nothing.
I started to take to move again.
“Are you sure she’s dead?”
I froze.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” replied a second male voice.
What the hell, my eyes widened and my heart pounded against my rib cage.
“It just sounds strange that she died like that. Maybe she just fainted,” suggested the first voice.
“She was dead. I waited an hour. No pulse. No heartbeat. She was dead…”
Protected Hearts (Durant Brothers Book 2) Page 10
