by Alisa Woods
He slid forward and wrapped her in his arms, holding her head as she buried it in his shoulder and quietly let out a sob. His brothers and Cinaed drifted away, and while he held his mate tight, he heard the front door open and close.
They were alone, finally.
Leonidas pulled back to peer at her. He ran his thumbs along her cheeks, wiping away the tears.
“I’m okay,” she said, waving him off like she was embarrassed to be crying.
He could barely hold back his own tears… but he was fairly certain she didn’t know all of it—this was their last and best attempt. That if they couldn’t do it now, nothing would. And the truth was they could… but it would end their son’s life.
And his.
He couldn’t bear to think how it would affect her, losing them both.
But all of that must wait. As his brother said, he should just be with her in the time they had left.
“Rosalyn—” he started, but she shook her head fast, pulling away even further. Her face was scrunching up again like she was engaged in an epic fight to hold back more tears.
“Oh, Leonidas,” she said. “I’ve really fucked this up.”
What? For a half second, he just stared. Then he managed, “No, you haven’t.” He drew her back to him again, cupping her cheeks and easing closer. “What are you even talking about?”
“The baby.” Her voice was half a sob, and it was breaking his heart. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have insisted on mating… on being with you…” Tears flowed again. She pulled his hands away from her face, then bunched her own into fists, shaking them. “You could have found someone else! I’m broken, and this is all a horrible mistake! I should have never—”
“Rosalyn Thorne… you stop right there.” His tone was sharper than he would have liked, but he was all wrung out emotionally with this.
It was enough to sober her crying for a moment. “But you know it’s true—”
“Do you know what’s true?” He took her balled-up hands in his and caressed them open. “That there was never going to be anyone else for me. There is only you. My only chance was with you and this baby. So don’t you for one minute think that our love or our baby were a mistake.” Her eyes were shining with tears again, her lips pressed into a trembling line. Before she could think of more blame to take, he cupped her cheeks again and peered into those beautiful blue eyes. Sweet magic, she’d always had a hold on him, from the first time she blazed those beauties at him. “There are never any guarantees, my love. The only thing we truly have is each other. Right now. So, no more being separated. No more trying to weather this alone. You are all I have, my sweet Rose.” He was choking up again, but her eyes were shining brighter. “And I don’t want to waste a single minute on regretting any of it.”
She gave him the tiniest nod, but that was all he needed.
His first kiss was gentle, but his need for her was like an undercurrent dragging him down into the depths of his love. His second kiss was unabashedly hungry—hungry for her, for all the minutes they’d missed, hungry to connect with her again. Thank magic, she answered him in kind, ramping up the heat by winding those sweet fingers of hers into his hair, latching onto him like she was starving for him, too. His hands did the same, grabbing hold of the softness of her hair to angle her so he could plunder her mouth with his tongue. Everywhere they touched was sparking hot, racing pleasure to his cock, which was already straining at his jeans. Their sizzling hot magic was even hotter than before, now that she was deeper into her pregnancy, fired with all kinds of magic, being both witch and dragon. He ached to be inside her. The way she was panting against him, clawing at him, said she wanted it too… and that was driving him even harder.
“Clothes. Off. Now,” he panted, nibbling his way down her neck as he slid his hands under her shirt. She was wearing normal clothes, not the magical kind, so he’d have to remove them the old-fashioned way.
First, he flicked a wrist to banish his own clothes in a blink. She gasped and grabbed for him, wrapping a soft hand around his cock and making him groan, loud and hoarse. While she worked him, he ripped at the buttons of her jeans. When they were open, he lifted her hand from his cock, groaning as her touch left him, then lifted her arms up and liberated her t-shirt over her head. Next went the bra, and her breasts fell gloriously free. His mouth watered, and he couldn’t resist palming one while he dipped his mouth to the other. Magic sparked from his tongue as it circled her nipple, and she arched into him. Her breasts had always been full and firm and tantalizing, but with the baby, they’d grown even larger, and he could barely cup them in his hands.
“Fuck, Rosalyn,” he panted against her sweet, sweet skin. “You are so damn beautiful.”
She pulled his face harder against her and whimpered a little with his attentions.
He skimmed a hand over her belly, the baby making it firm and round. This was literally their love turned into flesh, and he caressed her baby bump with all the love he had in him. Then he gently insisted that she lay back so he could get those damn jeans off her. He only got them halfway down her hips before he had to dive in for a taste, dipping his tongue to lap at the sweetness between her legs. She shrieked as magic jumped from his tongue to her already swollen nub, and he tormented her there, making her buck against his face, just as long as he could stand it before he had to have her.
The second her jeans were worked down her legs and off, he was back between her legs, only now with his cock. She was wet for him, so he didn’t wait—just sunk to the hilt in one swift stroke.
“Oh fuck!” Rosalyn cried, arching up against him as he loomed over her.
He grabbed hold of her head for a swift kiss then laid her back on the couch, pulling out and slamming in again. With the baby in the way, he had to angle just right, but when he did, fuck… he was buried deep. She had one ankle up on the back of the couch and the other dangling off and both hands gripping onto his shoulders as he pulled back and slammed in again.
“Oh my God,” she said, peering down between them. “You’re so damn big.”
His masculine ego swelled, but even more, he loved that she loved it. He doubted she could see his cock sliding into her, joining them with magic and love, but his view was magnificent. Her rapturous face, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. Her nipples, rigid with pleasure and begging for his attention. Her creamy soft skin stretched tight over their baby. And the delicate quiver of her legs with each rhythmic pump into her.
He kept thrusting, a little faster with each stroke. Then he moved one hand to one of those delicious breasts, kneading it hard and making her bite her lip and groan and meet each thrust he gave her.
“Hold on tight, baby.” Damn, his voice was strained. “I have a lot of lost fucking time to make up for.”
“Oh God, yes!” She gripped harder onto his arm and tipped her head back, giving over to his pounding. And she was mated to him now, and halfway through the pregnancy even, which meant she was nearly as immortal as he was, and he could unleash the full force of his passion.
He thrust harder, angled deeper, and nearly fucked her right off the couch. He grabbed hold of the cushion next to her, blocking her from falling, and kept up the relentlessness of his cock seeking to bury itself.
“Yes, yes, yes.” Her cries were getting more frantic, and he knew she had to be close.
He slid his hand up from her breast, winding into her hair and holding hard, giving extra power to every thrust. “You are mine, Rosalyn Thorne. All mine. Forever mine.”
She whimpered in a way that raced his climax to the peak. Then she got there just before he did, bucking and convulsing around him, screaming his name. All at once, it overcame him, gushing pure liquid pleasure into her, his release rushing pleasure like he’d never known through every particle of his body. He kept thrusting until every last drop of his seed had spilled into her, but then a great weakness washed over him, a great emptying of all his love, not just his magic. He slowed as she relaxed into the co
uch, her muscles apparently going as weak as his.
He held himself off her, keeping his weight from crushing her gorgeous body, but he had to kiss her, so he leaned forward, still cock-deep inside, and kissed the tip of her chin, her nose, her cheeks, all the sweet spots that he’d missed seeing and touching during the time they were apart.
Her hands left the couch and found his face. “How is it possible that I gave this up for even a day?”
“You’re stronger than I am,” he said with a breathy smirk. “Obviously.”
“I’m a fool.” But she said it lightly.
“You’re the most beautiful fool I’ve ever bedded.” He grinned. “At least, on this couch.”
Her eyes blazed, and she smacked him on the shoulder. “Just for that, I think you owe me another orgasm.”
He raised his eyebrows, his heart lifting with the joy of it. “Just one?”
“Two, then, smarty mouth.”
His grin grew into a smirk. “Oh, Ms. Thorne… you have no idea how smart my mouth can be.”
Her eyes dropped to half-mast…
He had every intention of keeping them that way for days to come.
And to have her screaming again within the minute.
Rosalyn was in an orgasm stupor.
She and Leonidas had gone on one of those marathon lovemaking sprints, the kind where they rarely slept or ate, just went from one lovemaking session to another. And it was all his doing… although she was admittedly helpless in the face of his talented fingers and sexy body and wicked ability to tease her mercilessly until she was begging for it.
The man had finally fallen asleep.
He lay snoring lightly, sprawled out, face down, on the bed beside her. He was so gorgeous even when he was just lying there. Those magical runes danced lightly along his back, down over the muscular curve of his bottom and to his legs and back again, making an endless loop around his body. His breathing was slow and steady, and his hair was wildly tousled from when she’d been grabbing hold of it and riding him. She was tempted to wake him and do it all over again, but she’d just finally gotten him to sleep. Or rather, they’d both passed out, exhausted, but she’d woken up first. Still tired, too, because her sleep had been fitful and filled with dreams that left her cold inside.
What was their next move with the baby?
Every time she’d tried to bring it up, Leonidas just dove between her legs again, and she was lost to another round of ridiculously hot sex. She was powerless to deny him—they’d spent too much time apart. It was as if she were recharging her sex energy batteries, and that required a lot of endless hot sex with the man who was her mate. Who she loved more than her own life.
But she loved their baby, too—and they needed to talk about the next step in trying to defeat the demon. The strenuous efforts of witches and dragon princes had failed, but there was no way in hell she was giving up. Especially since making love to Leonidas no longer seemed to bring out the demon. She wondered now if it ever had, or if that had just been a coincidence. But the last twenty-four hours were definite proof that raging sexual contact with her mate was not the trigger she feared. Or maybe now the demon was preoccupied with her son instead of her. That part still worried her, and eventually, they would have to try again. But what?
Leonidas wouldn’t talk about it.
Rosalyn’s mother had done all she could.
That left…
Cinead. From the beginning, he’d always helped her out—with her attempt to get into her father’s coven to cure Leonidas’s curse, staying by her side when they went to London. Come to think of it, her father might still be a help! She would just have to convince him. If he were even still in the keep. But first, she would find Cinaed.
Rosalyn snuck out of Leonidas’s bedroom on tiptoes, leaving her dragon mate sleeping soundly on the bed. She couldn’t ask Leonidas to conjure clothes for her or go back into the bedroom for some of her own. That left the crumpled t-shirt and jeans he’d stripped off her nearly twenty-four hours of lovemaking ago. The clothes still lay on the floor next to the couch, and as she bent to scoop them up, she found a small bronze dragon on the thick, woven tapestry that served as a carpet. It must have fallen from someone’s pocket—she slipped it into hers and made a mental note to ask Leonidas about it later.
Then she quietly crept out of the lair.
The only problem was that she had no idea where Cinaed might be. And she barely knew the keep at all. As she strolled down the stone-lined hallways with their pictures of ancient dragons, she figured she would just keep wandering until she found someone who could help. They wouldn’t know she’d snuck out. And with any luck, she’d get back before Leonidas woke up.
She passed the kitchen, but it was silent. As she strode past a window, she realized it was actually nighttime. She hadn’t thought to check the time—could be 3am for all she knew. She headed toward the Great Hall. That was one of the few places she knew in the keep, having had her disastrous meeting there with her family, including her father. If it wasn’t too late in the evening, it seemed like the kind of place the dragons of the House might gather. She knew many had left their families back in Seattle to defend and run the keep in France while she and Leonidas tried to bring an heir to the House of Smoke into being. And now the baby was in jeopardy, as many had to know. Surely, any of them would help her.
She wound her way through the hallways, and sure enough, the large wooden doors to the Great Hall were slightly ajar, and a light patter of conversation floated out. But as she neared the entrance, she passed another room she knew quite… intimately. It was the “closet” where Leonidas had brought her for a strenuous round of lovemaking early in the pregnancy. There were noises—voices and growls—coming from there, too. Was someone else taking advantage of that space for some adventurous lovemaking? The closet was the size of a large library and contained a couch among other furnishings, but the door was slightly cracked open. Rosalyn couldn’t see much of anything, and if it were just someone in there testing out the sturdiness of the ancient desk, she would keep walking…
But she recognized those voices.
Leksander and Erelah.
Rosalyn edged up to the cracked-open door. She peeked at the nearby Great Hall, but no one could see her voyeuristically spying on one of their dragon princes… and the angeling Rosalyn knew he loved. It was apparently an open secret, one everyone knew… except the angeling herself.
“The longer we wait, the more difficult it will be!” That was Erelah’s high-pitched voice, surprisingly sweet-sounding for as strident as Rosalyn knew the angeling could be. She’d already pulled a blade on Rosalyn once… and she wasn’t joking around, either.
“Erelah.” That was Leksander. His voice was weary. They must have been arguing for a while. “It’s impossible. You know that.”
“I do not!” Now she sounded insulted.
Rosalyn tried to close one eye and peer through the crack to see them. She was full-on Peeping Tom, but they were talking about something important… she could feel it.
“I told you, we’ve tried,” Leksander said. “All three of us.”
All three? So Leonidas was involved…
“You should not underestimate my skill with the blade.” Erelah was still insulted it seemed, but what were they talking about?
“It doesn’t matter—”
“Of course, it matters!” Erelah’s voice hiked up. “Every human on the planet will be affected if the treaty falls!”
The treaty? Rosalyn blinked and pulled back. They were talking about her and the baby. She edged closer, putting her eye to the crack again. She could only see a slice of the “closet,” and opening the door any more would give her away.
“The treaty may fall no matter what.” Leksander’s grumbling was so quiet, Rosalyn almost couldn’t hear the words.
But clearly, Erelah did. “I do not understand this above all things, Leksander. You have your duty. Your brother does, too. You have to fulfill it.
And you dragons… you attract the humans like bees to a beautiful flower. This should not be the trouble you make of it!”
There was the thump of something, like a fist hitting a table or a book. At least, Rosalyn imagined it must be that to go with Leksander’s growl of frustration. All she could see was Erelah, standing with feet planted wide next to a bookcase. Angelings didn’t seem to like wearing much in the way of clothes—or at least Erelah didn’t. Her thin white dress seemed to float around her and barely cover her breasts. But the way she stood—tall, erect, hair floating in some magical breeze—the dress was more like a warrior stripped down for battle than a seductive thing. But she didn’t seem to have that angel blade she carried before—the one that set off Rosalyn’s demon. This close, she would have felt it.
Leksander finally spoke again. “I know you don’t understand love the way that… the way that’s necessary for fulfilling the treaty.”
Rosalyn’s heart hurt with the strain in his voice.
“What is there to understand?” Erelah asked, exasperated. “I see it with my own eyes. Humans fall in love with dragons with great ease! You have an unnatural ability to draw them in. And it’s not as if I don’t understand the loving of humans in return—they are God’s precious creatures and shine with everything good and pure in the world. I am angel, Leksander—”
“Half angel.” Even Rosalyn flinched with the sharpness of his voice.
“Yes, half angel.” Holy shit, she was pissed! “Which is the only reason I can stand here and offer my help to you and the House of Smoke! A pure angel could suffer no such thing. But perhaps I am a fool for this!” Erelah turned suddenly toward the door—the one Rosalyn was peeking through—and strode toward it.
Rosalyn’s heart nearly leaped out of her chest. She stumbled back, but Erelah didn’t get far.
“Erelah!” Leksander called her back. “Wait.”
