Finn mumbled against Luke's chest, "I'll get her."
"No, you rest."
Luke tucked his mate back in, warm and cozy as he pulled on a pair of sweats and padded over to the crib. Serena Ann looked up at him with wise eyes. "Hey, you."
Luke had the baby changed and was feeding her her first bottle when Finn emerged, his bed head stuck out in every direction, his own sweats sat tantalizingly low on his hips. The tiny line at his abdomen was healing more and more each day. He sat down next to them on the couch, looking at them both with an expression so full of love it still threatened to choke Luke.
Luke's inner animal stirred, sensing something coming, something unusual.
"What is it?" Finn asked, seeing his changed expression.
Luke didn't answer, instead he calmly passed Serena Ann to Finn. She never stopped suckling from the bottle. Luke stood, stepping to the door. Finn followed, but remained far enough back so that he could keep the baby safe. There was a knock, light and quick. Luke wondered if Lucian's pack had finally come back for vengeance, not that they were owed any, but when Luke didn't take claim over their pack master's death, he was sure the last few weeks had been full of chaos. And maybe now they were beginning to prioritize. Luke growled.
He opened the door and his jaw dropped. On the front stoop, the sun just starting to rise in the twilight sky behind him, stood Christian. His jacket was unzipped revealing a large, pregnant belly.
"Christian?" Finn asked, his voice high.
Christian looked exhausted and practically fell into their house. Luke caught him. He carried him to the couch and laid him down on the cushions.
Christian's eyes fluttered open. "Hey," he said breathily. "Do you mind if I stay a while?" His eyes shut as he passed out.
THE END
Claiming Christian (Wolf's Mate Series Mpreg Romance Book 2)
by
Kiki Burrelli
Copyright © 2016 Kiki Burrelli
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
This book is dedicated to my readers. <3
Chapter 1
Christian McGannon ran down the darkening street. His lungs demanded more oxygen, but his throat already hurt from swallowing as much air as he could for too long of a time. He wished he could remove his sweater and hood but then whoever was following him would realize they weren't chasing who they thought they were. Then, it would all be for nothing. His screaming calves, his aching chest. His fear.
Christian swallowed that fear down deep into his gut. It would only slow him down. He knew he was being chased. Not that he'd dared to turn his head back to see anyone. But he could hear them whenever he slowed down. They probably hadn't realized how athletic he was when they started. He'd done a handful of marathons and competed in tennis on the academic level. Though that wouldn't matter when his muscles eventually gave away, and he biffed it on the unforgiving concrete.
For Finn. Just a little bit longer, for him. Finn was the entire reason he was here. His friend had run into a bit of trouble. Finn had needed a distraction and being the kind of guy he was, Christian hadn't thought twice about helping him. He'd put on his friends clothes, to dupe the people chasing Finn. Now, it was hours later after Christian had first started this crazy chase and he could only hope Finn had made it to somewhere safe.
Up ahead was the turn that would take him down the narrow alley between the bakery and the dry cleaners. It led to his apartment complex where, if he could get through the doors without anyone slipping in, he would be home free. Christian urged his leg muscles forward. They screamed and flailed, but he sped up, turning down the alley, only to skid to a halt.
A chain-link fence blocked his path forward, lined with barbed wire all along the top. The city must have finally started making safer changes to the neighborhood. Too bad those changes had possibly just killed him.
He scanned the alley. There were no doors on either side of the buildings, only a dumpster and a pile of crates. Next to those sat a heaping pile of crumpled cardboard. Other than some other random trash there was nothing.
Christian turned around just as a pack of three sweaty, burly men entered the mouth of the alley. They wore similar clothes, generic bad guy: dark, stained jeans and dirty button-up shirts. They looked a little like bikers with longer hair and copious amounts of facial hair. Each was well-muscled, which made sense. No one who didn't have some athletic prowess would've been able to follow Christian for long.
"Finally ran yourself into a corner?" the closest man said between mouthfuls of air.
"I don't want any trouble," Christian said, breathing hard but not quite as hard as the other guys.
"Neither do we. We just want to take you back to our pack master," the man said.
Pack master? Christian knew his friend Finn had gotten involved in some weird stuff. Apparently, it was some sort of gang led by a pack master. He pushed the hood of his sweater down. "I don't want to go with you anywhere."
The bad guy to the right inclined his face a little upwards like he was smelling something. He growled. Not a person version of a growl, but a real, menacing rumble from the very back of his throat. "This isn't him!" he snarled. "This isn't the mate."
"What are you talking about?" the first guy said. "We've been tracking his scent for miles."
"Smell for yourself!" the other man said.
And then, weirdly, the first guy did sniff at the air. He narrowed his eyes at Christian. "You little asshole. We've been chasing after you for miles!" He lunged forward and caught Christian around the middle in some football linebacker move. Christian fell on the alley floor, hard. The air knocked from his lungs, and his back hurt as he slammed against broken glass, and other sharp things sprinkled on the ground. The other guy's big hairy hands reached around his throat and squeezed. Christian flailed, kicking his feet, gasping out for help.
At once, the man disappeared, seemingly lifted from Christian. He scrambled to his feet searching for the small switchblade he should've pulled out when he first discovered he'd been cornered. Honestly, Christian wasn't used to people getting mad and staying mad at him. Up until the moment the burly man's hands had wrapped around his throat, he'd thought he would be able to talk himself out of anything.
Christian turned toward the action. A fourth person had appeared. Christian didn't know from where. The other guys would've prevented someone coming from the street, and they had been alone in the alley. The new person moved with a jerky gait towards the men who had chased after Christian, like he might fall over at any moment. But when he reached the other men his movements were smooth, efficient. His blows landed like powerful rapid-fire strikes, dispatching them to nothing more than a trio of would-be assailants.
His savior spun around, hunched over and breathed hard. His hands still clenched into dangerous fists and he crouched like a wild animal ready to attack. In that heart-stopping moment, Christian was scared. No, he was terrified and knew with absolute certainty that if this man meant him harm, then harm he could do.
Yet, through his terror, Christian could still see that this man was gorgeous—utter masculinity carved across his angular face. He had the darkest brown eyes that bordered on black. His hair was a glossy espresso brown color and matched his closely trimmed beard and mustache. But, mostly, it was his innate sensuality that Christian noticed as if his every movement exuded sexuality. Ridiculously, Christian was almost jealous of the unconscious men behind the dark stranger. At least they had been touched by him. Handled by him.
Christian took a jerky step backward. What the hell? Handled? He brandished his puny knife in front of him. It hadn't seemed puny at first. Now it was laughable that it might keep him safe from this muscular mystery man. "Don't come an
y closer," he said without any real oomph.
The other man sniffed the air and staggered towards him like he was possessed, or possibly drunk. "What is that smell?" he asked with a surprisingly gentle southern accent. Then, he growled, obscuring any possibility of using the word "gentle" to describe anything about him. He narrowed his black eyes. "Take that jacket off," he ordered.
"S-stay away from me!" Christian couldn't believe his luck. Now a sexy, drunk homeless man was trying to steal his jacket.
The man lunged forward so quickly Christian couldn't see the movement clearly. One moment the man was a few feet away and the next he was right on top of him, groaning in pain. Christian yelled and released the switchblade. It stuck into the stranger's body. His strong hands went to the knife handle and ripped it out of his body. Blood covered his hands and the knife blade.
"Oh shit," Christian whispered.
The other man looked up at him with a look of hurt betrayal. "You stabbed me? You can't stab me. You're mine."
Christian's pulse quickened, and his stomach did a funny flip at the man's words. Then, the man crumpled. Christian caught him under his armpits. Every glorious pound of him was now like dead weight. This close, Christian could smell alcohol on his breath and possibly his clothing. So he had been drunk. "Hey, buddy. You can't pass out. I know shit about this, but I know you can't pass out."
"Not…passed out," the guy said with effort.
"I'll get you to a hospital. What's your name? Do you have anyone I can call?"
The guy laughed, a short bark that contained no actual humor and ended in a pained cough. "No hospital, no one to call."
"Well…fuck."
As if to cement his sentiment, one of the unconscious men moaned and shifted.
"Fuck!" He hauled the man over his shoulder. He had terrified him, yes, but he had saved him too. And, if Christian was really honest, this stranger intrigued him. Oh, and he had stabbed him. It wasn't like he could just leave the man to bleed to death. Or if the jerks woke up, to be beaten and then bleed to death. He gathered all of the man's weight and gave thanks to his workout regimen. He'd never missed a leg day.
That didn't mean it was easy to carry the muscled body out of the alley and around the building, taking the side street that led to his apartment building. He had to keep from laughing, if he started, he would probably drop his cargo, but it was kinda funny to him how close he had been to his home. If only he hadn't tried to take a shortcut. Even as he thought it, something in his gut rebelled from changing any step that led him toward the handsome, drunk, injured, terrifying man.
At the entrance, he swiped his card and the door beeped open. The moment it shut and the automated lock reset, he felt an enormous relief. At least now they wouldn't get beat up, or worse. The man groaned then, and Christian remembered guiltily that only he was now in the clear.
"Hey, hey, buddy," Christian set the guy down on the elevator floor, propping him against the wall.
"Derrick," the man mumbled. "Derrick Antoine Robichaud, the Third, not buddy."
"Great, Derrick. Happy to meet you. I'm sorry I accidentally stabbed you. My neighbor is a…well, not a doctor of people. But…I mean if you are sure you don't want to go to a hospital? Or even a free clinic? Well, no a free clinic would have to contact the police for a stab wound. But, then, it isn't a mystery who stabbed you. Though really, you stabbed yourself."
"You talk a lot," Derrick said, but not really in a mean way.
"I've heard that," Christian replied. That and just about every variation of, except Finn. Finn had never resented or been annoyed by Christian for never knowing when to stop talking. The elevator doors dinged open. Christian lifted Derrick back up, apologizing as the other guy groaned in pain. He managed to get his door opened and then settled Derrick on his couch before rushing out and pounding on his neighbor's door, praying he would be home.
Dr. Steven Phillips opened his door a crack, most likely having first peeked through his peephole and seeing Christian. "No, I do not have any more cookies—is that blood?" The middle-aged doctor's tone went from jokingly flirting to serious in a split second.
"Yes. It isn't mine. I stabbed someone. Accidentally." Did he have to keep emphasizing accidentally? Christian doubted it helped his cause. He was proven right when Dr. Phillips tried to shut his door on Christian.
"You should call the police then."
"I can't. Look, I know you aren't a real doctor."
"Excuse me?"
"I mean, a real person doctor. But he is literally bleeding to death on my couch right now. And who was it that went out and brought you your favorite turnovers from Susie's Bakery every day you were sick last year with the flu?"
"You," Steven said begrudgingly.
"And who pretended to be your boyfriend when you couldn't get that girl you met at the comic con to back off?"
"You got several free dinners out of that if I remember correctly."
"Oh, okay. I see how it is. Well, let's just call the comic con girl and explain the whole—"
"No, no. Let me grab my bag."
Christian nodded and waited, but kept his foot lodged in the door in case the doctor tried to pull a switcharoo on him. Honestly, he hated throwing the nice things he had done for his neighbor back in his face like they were debts that needed paid. Christian hadn't minded going to the bakery and during those dinners was the first time he'd had tapas.
Steven returned and followed Christian to his door. Christian put a hand on his arm, making Steven turn to him. "Before you go in," Christian said, the guilt already setting in. "You don't have to. I'm sorry about what I said."
Steven just rolled his eyes. "I know. Come on." He pushed open Christian's door and entered first. All of a sudden, he stopped and shrieked. "What the hell, Christian?" He stumbled back, running into Christian in his haste to get out of the apartment.
Christian's blood ran cold. Was the guy dead? He hadn't seemed that injured when he'd left him. He peered around Steven's fleeing form. There, on his couch was a huge, black wolf. No, huge wasn't the word to use. The wolf was ginormous. Christian let Steven run out of the apartment. He was already laughing like it was some hilarious joke Christian had pulled.
He went back in slowly. The wolf just sat on his couch and stared at him with wise, dark-colored eyes; they were almost black. He was well-trained for a wild animal. That was why Steven probably thought it was such a joke. Christian knew his eyes were wide as he approached, looking around for Derrick. Had the wolf eaten him? Where the hell did it come from? He didn't even think his windows were big enough for the thing to get through. The wolf jumped off the couch and somehow landed behind Christian, effectively cutting him off from his front door and exit. It took a few steps towards him. Its nose sniffed the ground.
"It's okay. Down, doggy," Christian whimpered.
At his words, the wolf's dark eyes looked at his face. Those eyes, so wild and untamed and yet, so familiar. He noticed a small amount of matting on the wolf's dark skin at his stomach, like blood mixed with fur. He felt like he was putting one plus one plus one plus one altogether. Finn and his new friends, the guys who seemed to be tracking him by scent, all of it added up to one very absurd conclusion.
Christian sat down on his floor. Technically, his legs collapsed from under him, finally giving out after so much exertion and stress—but, he didn't fight it. The huge wolf came trotting up to him, all dark fur and dark eyes.
"Are you…are you, Derrick?" Christian asked the wolf, feeling like a fool.
The great beast ran from him, into Christian's bathroom. It bowed its head over Christian's toilet and then vomited. It was the strangest thing for Christian to watch. His mom had a cat once that had learned how to go to the bathroom in a toilet. A huge wolf getting sick in his bathroom was no less odd-looking than that had been. And that cat had been entirely just a cat. Should he offer to hold back his fur?
"Can I get you anything?" There was no reply, but Christian figured he alway
s wanted some cold water after being sick, so he ran into the kitchen and grabbed a cup. Then he remembered who he was getting water for and grabbed a bowl instead, filling it with ice and water from his fridge. When he turned to return to the bathroom, he stopped short.
Standing in his living room, gloriously naked, was Derrick. He had a body that would feature in Christian's every fantasy. Usually, Christian despised body hair, but on Derrick, the dusting of hair across his chest looked natural and added to his masculinity. His fingers twitched, fighting the urge to reach out and pet him.
"Is that for me?" Derrick asked, looking at the bowl of water Christian carried.
"Uh, well, it was for…you?"
Derrick smirked. He had a dimple when he smiled on his right cheek. Christian wondered what it would taste like. Maybe he needed to pour the ice water over his head instead.
"Do you have any Band-Aids?" Derrick asked loudly. Christian must have been staring. It didn't seem like it had been the first time Derrick had asked.
Christian set the bowl down. A little of the waters sloshed over the side and onto his table. "I only have small ones. Oh jeez, I forgot about your injury. I brought my friend over to take a look but, you…he thought I was joking."
"Your friend?" Derrick asked, his lips curled up in a small snarl.
Christian thought he should be more offended than he was. "My neighbor. He's a…veterinarian. So, not quite the doctor you didn't want to see." He bent forward to examine Derrick's wound, and while he was bent over, with his head close to the man's navel, he remembered he was still absolutely naked. Christian blushed and stepped back hastily. "I'm sorry. It looks excellent. Your wound I mean. Not quite as good as just not having one, but it looks better than it did."
"I heal quickly."
"That's good because I don't think I can get Steven to come back. Plus, he'll want to know where the wolf went and…." Christian waved his hand in a circular motion in the air.
Wolf's Mate Mpreg Romance Box Set Page 16
