Wolf's Accidental Pregnancy: A Fated Mate Romance (Love Spells)

by Ava Williams

  “I’m okay,” she gasped. “I’m just so happy that you’re happy.”

  This was her mate.

  And she was carrying his heir.

  The rest of that day was incredible. She was really with Titus, and he was so excited to have a baby with her. This was a new side of him—caring for her, showering her with affection and displaying his own budding excitement.

  Nothing else seemed to matter that day.

  She spent a while with Titus, talking things over and spending the time together before they parted ways. She went back to the artifacts, where she spent the rest of the day working. Titus promised to see her again later that night at her quarters for dinner and an evening together.

  She practically floated back to her desk to finish out her workday. There had been some difficult times, and she had been so scared to do it wrong and upset Titus, but even when she did it the worst possible way, he’d been overjoyed.

  Titus was normally an imposing, dominant figure who always got what he wanted, but every now and then, she got to see the soft, vulnerable part of him. Tonight would be one of those nights. She was going to go home, shower, shave her legs, and get ready for an intimate, romantic night.

  18

  By the time Molly got back, it was after dark and a thunderstorm had rolled in.

  She worked all day, and Titus told her to expect him around eight or nine. So, by the time she pulled into the drive outside her quarters, the sun had vanished below the horizon, with just a few rays of purplish-pink light glowed in the distance. With the quiet rumbling of a powerful thunderstorm and some rain pattering against the metal roof of her car, it was a beautiful scene.

  She unlocked her house and walked in, pushing the door shut with a swing of her hip, leaving it unlocked. She couldn’t wait to sink into a hot bath and get ready for her fated mate to celebrate their baby. Titus would be here in an hour, and if she hurried, she would look her best for him.

  She looked back at the unlocked door a second time as she dropped her purse and jacket, but kept moving through the house without turning back. She couldn’t live in fear. Besides, Eli and the Brothers hadn’t been spotted in ages. She’d seen at least ten armed guards since leaving her office.

  She filled up the bath with some essential oils, slipped out of her clothes, and sank in. Curls of steam wafted off the surface of the water. She let her mind wander as she bathed and shaved. The warm water felt great on her skin, and she felt truly . . . peaceful. Content. Just happy, as corny as it was. It was like a fairytale. Her life was coming together. Before she met Titus, she was fine. Not a damsel in distress. In a lot of ways, she saved him. Her formerly cold and unemotional lover was her mate, in love and excited to have a baby with her.

  Maybe the spell really had worked, or maybe it was a lucky bunch of bullshit that had worked out well, but really, she didn’t care. She felt—no, she knew that Titus was her fated mate. Maybe he was a work in progress and she would never fully domesticate him, but she loved the warm, generous man he had become. Besides, she wasn’t perfect either.

  She climbed out of the tub, clean and smooth and ready to see him. She put some makeup on, did her hair, and checked the clock. At any minute, Titus would be getting off work and headed her way to her house—and she was determined to be there waiting for him. Not a second too soon.

  She left the steamy bathroom in her bra and panties and made her way to the kitchen with a nice slap slap slap of her bare feet on the hardwood floors. Some nice decaf to drink, something warm and pleasant with the rainstorm outside, would be a great way to greet him. She would get the coffee going, get dressed and be ready for him. She snagged one of the coffee cups off the shelf, turned to the coffee maker and—

  Eli was in the room with her.

  She dropped the cup and it shattered against the floor. Her heart stuttered as she saw him standing in her living room. He stared directly at her, dripping all over the floor, eyes dead and empty. His hand, hanging at his side, clutched a long, silver blade that was slick from the rain.

  Across his forehead, the letter T was etched deeply into the skin, angry and red.

  Boom! Thunder stroke outside. Eli took a step closer as she stood frozen.

  “Sshhhhh.” His face twitched into a smile before it melted away into hatred. “Don’t. Say. A. Word.” With his other hand, he raised a handgun that she hadn’t noticed and levelled it at her chest.

  Her heart pounded in her chest as she ordered her body to move, but it just wouldn’t. She felt trapped, like a rabbit in front of a snake. She was frozen, wanting to scream out, but knowing that it would be the last thing that she did.

  “E-Eli,” she whispered. “Please, leave me—”

  “Shhhhhh.” He cut her off. “It’s been a while, human. You look . . . well.”

  She took a step back, subtly grasping for a knife on the counter. His eyes narrowed at her small movements, and he put his finger over the trigger and stepped closer to her again, until her back was against the fridge—trapping her.

  “I’ll give you credit. You did something no other woman was ever able to do,” he said. “You bagged Titus. The big guy. And you ruined the pack because he wanted to fuck a witch.”

  She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he lunged forward and jammed the silver blade under her throat. The tip of the sharp silver pressed against the underside of her throat with just enough pressure to break the skin.

  “Don’t you dare say a fucking thing!” he snarled at her, before physically clenching, composing himself, and dragging the blade across her throat before pulling it away. Not enough to slash her throat, but the pressure was terrifying.

  “Molly, Molly, Molly.” He bit his lip, staring at her with pure hatred. “Titus thought he could keep me out with the security changes. He thought I didn’t know about the extra cameras. But you know the thing about me, Molly? People have been counting me out since I was a kid. That’s why Titus became alpha and I was stuck as a fucking researcher. But I’m better than him, and I always have been. I built the fucking security system. I know every way in and out.”

  A smile twitched across his mouth. “Do you know why I’m here, Molly?”

  She squirmed nervously, wishing she had more on than just a bra and panties. She might as well have been naked. Her fingers twitched, trying to lasso some magic energy into a spell that she could use in self-defense, but nothing came. If there was ever a time to inherit some power, it was now.

  The smile on Eli’s face vanished. “Answer. The. Question. Do you know why I’m here?”

  “To say hi?” she squeaked, voice shaking. Her jaw snapped shut and she stared at him, wide-eyed.

  He locked eyes with her. “I’m here to kill you, Molly.” He wiggled the handgun. “You.” He lifted the sleek, long silver dagger. “And Titus.”

  As she stood in stunned, horrified silence, he gestured to the T cut into his forehead. “See this? The Brothers did this to me. Used me up and branded me so no other pack would ever accept me. Disfigured me.” He stabbed the blade into the countertop and swept a bowl of fruit to the floor. “If it’s over for me, it’s over for you too.”

  His finger moved to the trigger, and she stiffened. “Wait, Eli, come on, we must be able to come to—”

  A knock sounded on the front door.

  Both of them froze. Titus. It had to be. Nobody else came by her place, and Titus was supposed to be headed over soon. Maybe he finished work early. Relief surged through her before she realized that there was absolutely nothing stopping Eli from shooting her right then and there—and Titus would have no idea that anything was wrong until it was too late.

  Eli’s gaze ticked between Molly and the door as rage contorted his features. She was bait, she realized. Eli was here for Titus, after all, and she was just a fun bonus.

  He paused for a second, the gun still trained on her chest. Titus knocked again, and neither one of them said a word. They were frozen in place, both of them, waiting to see
what Eli would do.

  Eli narrowed his eyes and tossed his head towards the door.

  She made her way around Eli slowly, circling him and walking to the door. She felt painfully, horrifyingly aware of the gun pointed at her back, and how at any second, Eli might pull the trigger. He was nuts. Dangerous, but worse than that, he was unpredictable.

  “Open it.”

  She walked to the door slowly, trying to think. What the hell was she supposed to do? Her heart hammered inside of her chest.

  She rested her hand against the doorknob for a moment. She felt like puking, especially when she felt Eli press the barrel of the gun into her lower back. Straight through, ripping through her and her child.

  “Open. It.”

  Her hand twisted the knob, and she stared in numb, terrified horror as she opened the door a crack and saw her fated mate outside.

  She locked eyes with Titus outside. He stood under the awning outside of her little house with a smile. He looked strong and imposing, especially with his dress shirt clinging to his body from the rain. The storm had grown stronger, and rain surged around them, splattering against the sidewalk to her house and turning the ground into a muddy pit.

  She forced a happy tone to her voice, hoping, praying, that Titus would know what was going on. “Titus! Good to see you.”

  Please, please, please, please know something is wrong.

  Titus smiled back, but it was awkward, like he could tell something was unusual. “Am I too early?” He peered into the room behind her, but Eli was standing where he couldn’t be seen, and still pressing the gun into her spine. She felt it twitch, and she nearly puked from the image of what would happen if he did.

  She shook her head tightly, using her eyes to gesture. Please understand this. “I just got out of the shower!”

  Titus’s expression tightened. She could tell that he realized that something was wrong. There was no way for him to guess what it was, but all he knew was that something was hurting his girl and that was all it took. His eyes hardened and he seemed to be trying to piece together what was happening. “Shall I come in?”

  “Oh, uh—”

  Eli whispered into her ear from behind as he jammed the gun deeper. “He’ll watch you die.”

  Eli might be a powerful wolf and though she was no match for him physically, she wasn’t completely defenseless. She lunged away, bringing up her heel right between his legs. He gasped and stumbled back, which was exactly enough time for her to scramble away. Titus moved forward, bursting through the door—but not fast enough.

  Eli, with a wild, desperate look in his eyes, brought the gun back up.

  Almost in slow motion, she watched him level it at her chest from halfway across the room.

  And she knew that Eli wouldn’t be able to stop him.

  Eli pulled the trigger.

  19

  It was an awful thing to see your pregnant fated mate get shot.

  The door swung open, and from his spot outside the house, Titus looked inside just in time to see Molly jerk back from the bullet’s impact.

  His beautiful fated mate’s eyes were wide with shock as she reeled backward. She tripped over the coffee table and went down, crashing through the glass top to land on the pile of shards. Even in midair, her hands flew to her abdomen, to the baby inside.

  Rage, unlike anything that Titus had ever felt, exploded inside him when he heard Molly’s cry of pain. He charged the house with snarls tearing from his lips and his wolf fangs readily exposed through the pouring rain.

  Titus barreled through the gently swinging door, hard enough to tear it off its hinges to find the gunman standing by the kitchen counter.

  Eli.

  Eli, hair and skin saturated with water from the downpour outside, stood ten feet away with a wild, crazed look in his eyes, his handgun pointed at Molly. His eyes were wide with shock and delight and his face twisted into a sadistic sneer as he watched her writhe.

  As Titus hit the door, Eli brought the gun up again—slowly, with a cold glint in his eyes. Aiming. Seemingly not even aware of Titus’s presence, just relishing Molly’s pain and waiting to put an eternal end to it. He squeezed the trigger right as Titus made it into the room and let out a shout—too far away to stop him, to stop Eli from putting a final bullet into Molly’s body. The door, free of its frame, slammed into him, and his shot went wild, missing Molly by a wide margin.

  Titus charged him, making it a good five feet before he felt the first bullet pierce his lung. Pop! The bullet streaked into him with enough force to knock him back, tearing through his organs and shooting out the other side. Didn’t matter. Just a bullet. As long as it wasn’t silver, he was fine. Pain was temporary, but protecting Molly was everything. He staggered back to his feet. Pop! Another, this one lodging in his leg. Pop! Right in the chest, with enough force to stall his momentum again. Pop! Pop! Pop!

  Titus lost track of how many holes Eli put in him, but after the fifth or sixth one, he was reeling from the steady, pulsing flow of blood out of each wound.

  None of that mattered. He would take a thousand bullets for Molly, and besides, the pounding adrenaline hammering through his body made the pain forgettable.

  Eli’s face twisted with hatred, and the T carved into his forehead practically pulsed bright red. The Brothers had turned their back on him too, then. But Titus didn’t give a damn about why he was back—only that Eli had done something unacceptable: he hurt Molly.

  And for that, Eli would die.

  Eli pumped more bullets into Titus until finally, the gun clicked. Empty. Eli’s eyes narrowed and he grabbed for the silver blade impaled in the countertop.

  Titus stumbled and spat a glob of bloody saliva on the dirty floor. Pain radiated through him and his body screamed at him to stay down, but he knew that if he did, Eli would kill Molly and the child she was still trying so desperately to protect.

  That’s what Eli wanted, had always wanted—to destroy Titus once and for all, and nothing would please that backstabbing fucker more than killing both of them and eliminating Titus’s heir in the process.

  Titus shook the pain off and hurled himself toward Eli, tackling him to the ground. The blade skittered away, out of reach, buying Titus precious time, time to heal and gain his strength back.

  Together, the two men crashed to the floor, and a ferocious struggle ensued. Titus was bigger, stronger, and a better fighter—but badly injured. He felt his strength fade away with each passing second as blood pumped out of his wounds, saturating his clothing as it left his muscles sluggish and weak. The edges of his vision were fuzzy, but he ignored his body’s orders to shut down and pass out. His shifter healing would bring him back, but by then, Eli would have gotten to Molly again.

  Eli’s smaller size worked to his advantage, his speed and agility combating Titus’s sheer power and the fact that Titus was ripshit pissed. But it wasn’t a fair fight, not yet. All Titus had to do was survive and hold Eli back until his wounds healed.

  After that? Eli would die.

  No banishment, no imprisonment. Not again. One way or another, one of them would die tonight. After all these years, after all the fights growing up and the rivalry, Eli had gone too far, and their relationship had finally burst. It hadn’t come a moment too soon.

  In a blur of fists, fangs, and claws, the two wolves partially shifted back and forth, human flesh into lupine fur and back again. Eli fought like a trapped animal, while Titus fought like a man with everything to lose.

  Eli plunged his claws deep into Titus’s bullet wounds and sneered as Titus howled. Eli pushed onward, fighting cheap and taking advantage of Titus’s wounds.

  “So this is how it ends, you—”

  Those were all of the taunting words that Eli managed to spit out before Titus came back swinging.

  Titus punched Eli right in the jaw, hard enough to knock out a few teeth and bust up Titus’s knuckles. While he staggered back, spitting teeth and blood on the floor, Titus pulled his fist back
for another hit with his knuckles rearranging themselves to full health as he reared back . . .

  . . . and felt Eli thrust the silver blade into his side.

  The silver burned like fire as soon as it slid through the skin, sizzling between muscle and bone. He cursed. He was damn near invincible, but not from silver. Eli drew the blade back, ready to sink it into Titus’s flesh again with his blood-stained teeth shining with his vengeful sneer.

  But he didn’t factor in one thing—Titus’s determination to live.

  Titus’s hatred of Eli.

  And Titus’s complete and total lack of ability to fall and let any harm befall Molly.

  Titus marshaled his remaining strength and wrapped his arms around Eli’s torso. In one agonizing burst of power, he hurled Eli’s smaller, lighter body through the window, gasping from the pain of the deep wound from the silver dagger.

  Eli flew through the glass, shattering it and landing awkwardly on the sodden ground. He scrambled to his feet, slipping in the mud and rain, still gripping the dagger that gleamed red with Titus’s blood. Titus swayed and his vision swam, but he didn’t fall as he stood between Eli and Molly, who moaned in pain behind him. He might die either way, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to let this psychopath anywhere near Molly. He would gladly die before he let Eli touch a hair on Molly’s head.

  Eli sneered at Titus. His eyes shone with hatred and glee as he ran a finger along the blood-stained blade. He’d wanted to do this since they were children. He’d finally gotten the balls to do it. “Not done yet?”

  The rest of the compound started to stir from the commotion. Lights flicked on and the sound of shouting and footsteps echoed through the air.

  Boom!

  A lightning bolt struck nearby, casting a ghastly light over Eli as he stalked closer, Titus’s blood still dripping from the dagger. Titus took a step forward, but every step was agony.

  To hell with that.

  He clenched his teeth, fighting through the searing pain to focus on the only thing that mattered—his fated mate was in danger, and the cause stood right in front of him. He felt the bullet wounds healing already, and with each passing second, his vision cleared. The wound deep in his side from the silver dagger, immune to a healing ability, throbbed more and more. His hand rested on it, but his blood seeped between his fingers. He swallowed his urge to puke as his heart hammered in his chest and he looked upon Eli.