by Alisa Woods
She went limp as the pleasure waves subsided.
Holy fuck, they had been at this all night.
He seemed just as sapped of energy, gently releasing her legs and climbing onto the wide expanse of the bed. He left a hand cupping her breast, but he sagged into the red velvet of the spread. She watched him struggle to keep his eyes open, breathing heavily, each breath dragging his eyelids a little more closed.
She understood. She didn’t want to fall asleep, either.
“Is it tomorrow yet?” she whispered.
“Morrow…” Leonidas mumbled something else, but his eyelids were dangerously close to closed. And whatever he was saying only made sense in his head.
Tomorrow… she was sure it was already here. Well after midnight, in any case. But when the actual morning arrived, they had an appointment with her mother and Aunt Alora, and they would cast the birthing spell to separate Rosalyn from her son. She had many legitimate reasons to be worried about that.
It might not work.
The demon might be roused, in her or the baby.
It might work, but something else could go wrong.
And if all of it failed, she had an appointment with Erelah and her blade—another chance for it to go right, but also the possibility that neither Rosalyn nor the baby would make it out alive from that “closet” room by the Great Hall.
Real, frightening, even terrifying things. And yet she was wistful about the most strange thing of all—the idea that she would be separated from the tiny being in her belly.
With all the craziness and drama, and especially with the shortened, magical dragon pregnancy, she’d hardly had time to get used to being pregnant. She was just now really able to picture her son’s little hands and feet, and how he would look in that tiny dragon onesie her mother had conjured. And she wanted, more than anything, for him to be born healthy and demon-free and to hold him in her arms. So why this strange sadness she wouldn’t be carrying him around in her belly, finding new ways to make love that would accommodate a body that was Awkward with a capital A? The only thing she could figure was that she was bound to the baby—with her body and her witch and dragon magic, and even their shared demon. It was a soul-deep connection that she’d never had before, and it was hard to describe, but she feared losing it… even if everything worked out okay, and she became a mother.
A mother.
Holy crap. How in the world would she do that? Rosalyn shook herself out of her daze and twisted to peek at Leonidas, wanting to get reassurance from him.
He was fast asleep.
She smiled and traced the dancing runes on his back. Even that ticklish touch didn’t wake him. She had a surge of feminine pride that she’d worn out the mighty dragon prince, in bed, no less. She carefully scooted to the edge and rolled up to sitting, then standing. The stone floor was cool on her bare feet as she padded across the room, past the whirlpool, to the one slender window in the corner—it had a magnificent view but was angled such that no one could see inside their private getaway. The lights of the keep twinkled across the courtyard, other towers lit up with other dragons. Some had brought their mates, but most not. They were counting on her, like the rest of the mortal and immortal realm, to bring this baby into the world.
She had to believe that everything would work out fine.
There was no other choice.
But if it didn’t, she gave herself a moment to mourn all the things she would lose. A chance to live for another five hundred years as Leonidas’s mate. A chance to be a mother, and all that included. Maybe even a chance to see her own mother blossom as a witch again, not just scurry to strengthen her powers for one last and final spell before Rosalyn met her fate.
She sighed and turned away from the window.
The morning would soon be here—it might be terrible or wonderful, but either way, she needed her rest. Rosalyn tiptoed back across the room and carefully climbed into bed, dragging the crushed red velvet spread with her to pull up over Leonidas’s sprawled out body. He was like a little furnace, and she was, too, but she couldn’t help wanting to snuggle under it with him, just for a while, just to keep the world at bay for a few more hours.
This babymoon was incredibly sweet of Leonidas to arrange. He was the kind of man she didn’t even know could exist, and here he was, the father of her soon-to-be-born child. It simply wouldn’t be fair not to spend the rest of her life with this magnificent man.
A small tear leaked from the corner of her eye.
She let it fall—allowing another small moment of self-pity—but then she realized that, no matter what happened tomorrow, she wouldn’t trade any of the loving and living she’d had with Leonidas. And if tomorrow was her last day with him, then she would have spent the best part of her life with a man she loved more than anything else.
The tears dried up, she closed her eyes, and before her mind could ponder any more of life’s vicissitudes, she tumbled into sleep.
Leonidas nearly slept through the birth of his child.
Not really—he knew Rosalyn wouldn’t have started the birthing spell without him—but damn he was groggy as hell. An exhaustive babymoon lovemaking session had left him drained. Or maybe it was the horror that the morning brought. Either way, his ass was dragging even after Rosalyn literally shook him awake, and they trudged back to the lair to clean up.
The sun was already halfway up the sky.
He barely showered in time before his brothers and Rosalyn’s mother and aunt showed up at the door. But Rosalyn coming down from their bedroom in a gauzy white gown that was a mixture of a nightgown and a mating gown finally woke him up.
This was it. This was the day he and his son either lived or died… together.
Leonidas kept a small guest bedroom off the receiving room of his lair. It was rarely used, but Rosalyn said she wanted it for delivering the baby—privacy for her, but his brothers could be near enough by to help if needed. And Leonidas would definitely need their help once the baby was born, so he readily agreed. He would be in the private room with Rosalyn and her mother and aunt, both for the birthing spell, and if all went well, the magically-induced delivery.
“Are you ready?” Lucian asked him, his expression blank, a mask Leonidas knew covered that they were already in mourning.
“No.” Leonidas couldn’t force himself to anything but honesty. “I’m fucking terrified of this.” Rosalyn had already gone into the room with her mother and aunt, so it was just him, Lucian, and Leksander brooding by the fireplace, gone cold and filled with ash.
Lucian’s hand roughly landed on his shoulder. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then he just pulled Leonidas in for a manly hug.
“Don’t fucking start with that,” Leksander growled from his place by the not-fire. “Not yet.” The pain in his brother’s eyes was a strange comfort to Leonidas, even more than Lucian’s brotherly hug. The pain was solidarity. Lucian would carry on what needed to be done for the House. Leonidas and Leksander would do what they had to. But the pain of it… the pain was shared among the three of them.
“Right then,” Leonidas said, fighting the tightness in his chest to pull in a breath. “You’ll know as well as I if this works… but await my signal before we take the next step.” The next step being the whisking away of him and his infant son to their deaths.
“Understood.” Lucian grimaced but stepped back, releasing his hold on Leonidas.
He strode toward the small room down the hall and his mate.
“Leonidas!” Rosalyn’s mother said when he swung open the door. “Good. We’re just about ready for you.”
Rosalyn was sitting on a white-linen bed with four stout logs for posts. She was propped up at the end by a half-dozen, thick white pillows such that she was sitting up tall. She held a hand out, beckoning him, so he went to her side and took it.
She squeezed and then released it. “I don’t want to be distracted, so I can’t be touching you, hot stuff.”
He smiled, a
lthough he felt like crying. “I’ll be right here, physically.” He pulled a chair next to the bed and sat. “But magically, I’m going to be much closer.” He glanced at Rosalyn’s mom sitting on the bed with her, and Alora standing at the foot of the bed, clinging to one of the posts. “If I can assist in any way, I will. But mostly, I’ll be observing.”
Rosalyn’s mom nodded. “The baby’s fae magic is a wild card in this. I’ve been practicing my arts non-stop, and I think I’m full strength in my powers, but if you can watch over the fae part of your son, it would likely help.”
Leonidas managed a small smile. Her voice had such confidence. Maybe this had a chance. And he could lend strength to their efforts. The trick wasn’t if Rosalyn’s mother was strong enough to force the demon to separate—it would be if her magic could coax it away without tearing his son apart.
Or triggering his wyvern.
Leonidas’s smile faded as his gaze was drawn to Rosalyn’s belly, round and full and beautiful under her loosely-draped white gown. He had to be prepared to act—to save his mate—if things went horribly wrong.
As he braced himself for that, Rosalyn said, “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”
“All right,” her mother said. “As we discussed, you’ll be doing most of the conjuring here. My magic will guide you, giving the baby encouragement and another pole to move toward. Normally, this would be a spell conjured during the birth itself, which means you would be pretty distracted.” She gave a small smile. “Hopefully, that means you’ll be able to focus even better. And normally, you would be separating the baby completely from yourself, not just pulling away the demon part.” Then Rosalyn’s mother turned to Leonidas. “I’m not going to simply guide Rosalyn—I’m going to give the demon somewhere else to go.”
Leonidas frowned. “You mean, you’re going to pull the demon to you?” He hadn’t thought of that before, but it was a brilliant idea.
“Yes.” She pulled in a breath. “And if you would be so kind as to kill that demon before he becomes too entwined with my magical essence, I would appreciate it.”
He nodded quickly. “Of course.”
Isadora’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she glanced at Alora. “If all else fails, Alora will stand ready with a hex that will remove my witching powers again. That should dispel the demon.”
Rosalyn was frowning, but not objecting. And Leonidas found his heart lifting for the first time in weeks. This was a solid plan. He wondered why Rosalyn hadn’t told him this part, but he figured she must not approve, by the look on her face.
He kept quiet as Rosalyn’s mother turned back to her. “All right. Go ahead, Rose. I’ll be right here with you.”
Rosalyn nodded and closed her eyes, resting both hands on her belly. Isadora edged closer to do the same—eyes closed, hands on Rosalyn’s belly. Leonidas ached to do the same, or touch his mate, but what she said about distracting her was legit.
He kept his hands to himself but reached out with his fae senses.
The pulsing strength of his son always made Leonidas’s breath hitch. On the one hand, he was a powerful little dragon. It seemed like he got a double dose of the fae powers that were his birthright, not unlike his Uncle Leksander. Maybe it was the witch nature his son inherited from his mother. Either way, the magic was strong in his little guy. It tasted of sizzling electrical energy as Leonidas felt out the extent of the bundle of magical essence that was his son. That essence was distinct from Rosalyn’s, but wrapped up in it, just as the baby’s physical body was surrounded and held tight by his mother’s. But both still had the sulfur-tasting demon entwined with them, permeating every pulsing energy strand. If it had been difficult to separate them two weeks ago, now Leonidas couldn’t even imagine it. The demon had grown in power, but also bound even tighter to both, like cancer that had metastasized and spread everywhere.
Rosalyn whispered a chant, over and over. Liberia, amario, separatum. Liberia, amario, separatum. It was a gentle spell, one meant to encourage, not force, and that gave Leonidas a renewed sense of hope. He tasted Isadora’s magic there as well, swirling around the baby and Rosalyn, a soothing blanket of love for both. Isadora didn’t have Leonidas’s dragon seal, like her daughter, but she did have traces of Leonidas’s blood magic still within her, plus she was an older, more experienced witch, even if she’d been bereft of her powers for so long. She was a sizeable temptation for the demon, rivaling the strength of his infant dragon son and his dragon-magic-fortified mate.
Isadora joined Rosalyn’s chant, and with both their voices, the volume rose a little.
Liberia, amario, separatum. Liberia, amario, separatum.
Leonidas was tempted to use his own fae magic to direct or guide what was happening inside his mate, but he didn’t dare… it would be a forceful and violent magic, and he would ruin the altogether loving magic that Isadora and Rosalyn were using. It was seductive, this magic. A sweet, soothing, siren call for the demon to leave one set of essences—Rosalyn’s and the baby’s—for another, namely Isadora’s. It was all Leonidas could do to hold back, but he did… and slowly, he sensed the demon loosening its grip on the baby and Rosalyn.
It was tempted.
It surged toward the strong, pulsing magic of Isadora’s essence, as if licking after a treat just out of reach, but then it ebbed back, still deeply entwined with his mate and his son.
Go, dammit! Leonidas kept that thought to himself, but his frustration was rising.
He must not be the only one—the chanting was growing louder. Suddenly, he felt a fourth essence lean in. Alora. Rosalyn’s aunt had joined the chanting and had placed her hands on Isadora’s, strengthening the temptation for the demon by having two alternate witches offering themselves up for possession. Again, the demon surged, drawn to the two witches and their siren call. But then again, it sunk back, holding harder onto Rosalyn and the baby.
It knew. The fucking thing knew the greater prize was a dragon prince and its mother.
Leonidas wanted to rip it out so badly, he had to stand and clench his hands at his sides to keep from using his fae powers. At least, as the demon settled in again, like a snake nestled in a bird’s nest, it didn’t trigger his son’s wyvern form. That, honestly, was the only thing holding Leonidas back—any move he made at this point might trigger an angrier demon surge, one that might bring out the wyvern and hurt Rosalyn.
Fuck.
Isadora and Alora faded out with their chanting and pulled back. Rosalyn’s face scrunched up, but the chant faded from her lips. When she opened her eyes, Leonidas could see they were filled with tears. The sight of that was like a thousand pound punch to the gut.
They were giving up.
He was so choked with emotion, he couldn’t move or speak.
“We can try again,” Alora said. It was just a whisper, but it echoed around the room.
Rosalyn just shook her head.
“Not right away,” Isadora said, her voice hushed. “Deliver the baby first. Then… maybe with the two of you separate…” But she trailed off at Rosalyn’s insistent shaking of her head.
She knew—she had to feel it, too. How entwined the demon was. How they would never convince it to separate from them. Leonidas had to wonder how the birth would even work at this point. Would the demon split somehow when the baby was born? Would it stop the baby from being born for that very reason?
A shudder took hold of him. What if the demon killed them both by not letting them separate in childbirth? An inarticulate horror took hold of him, but Rosalyn wasn’t looking to him for a response. She wasn’t looking at him at all. She was just climbing off the bed in her white nightgown-dress, holding her belly with one hand to support it as she went.
Leonidas hastily stood, with Isadora and Alora.
“We can induce the birth magically,” Alora was saying. “You don’t have to wait—”
But Rosalyn was waving her off. “I just… need a moment alone.” She was hobbling on bare feet, heading for the small wa
shroom off the side of the room.
Leonidas was frozen in place, his mind rapidly searching for some way out of this—some way to stop what felt like a slow-moving train wreck he could not stop. When Rosalyn collected herself, she would go through with the birth. They might try again, but Leonidas was dead certain now that the magical separation between mother and child would go badly. Very badly. But what choice was there? Take the baby by caesarean? It could be done, but holy fuck, that was exactly how Lucian’s first mate had died. Talons were the only thing that could cut through Rosalyn’s dragon-mate-fortified skin, so Leonidas or one of his brothers must do the surgery. And the chances of them ripping the baby from her womb without it going wyvern in the process…
The room was spinning. He was running out of options.
Options.
His last resort—the bronze dragon from the fae! The Summer Queen’s blessing. Could that somehow convince the baby to magically separate from Rosalyn? Or at least get him through the birth—magical or c-section—without turning wyvern? Leonidas wracked his brain to remember what the Summer Queen said about the totem. That it would alleviate the baby’s crying. That is was a protective sprite. A wish for magic—fae magic. The one I’ve gifted to you will soothe what ails your child. When the time comes, I trust you will use it.
He didn’t know if this was the time, but he was officially out of other choices.
Rosalyn was still in the tiny toilet room. Isadora and Alora were giving him pensive stares from across the room. His brothers were out in the receiving room, awaiting news. Leonidas would just get the totem and then use it during the birthing spell…
