by Alisa Woods
“Leksander!” she called out just before she knelt by his side. When he didn’t respond, she touched him on the bare skin of his back. He whirled around, roaring and catching her wrist before she could yank back. But then he jerked to a stop and released her, eyes wide and roaming around the lair.
“The wards—” His eyes narrowed, then he slumped back in relief. “Still there. Thank magic.” He shook his head and then slid off the couch to kneel next to her where she still was on the carpet. “Did I hurt you?” A frown was carving his face.
“No, of course not.” She held a hand to his face. “You dreamt the wards were down?”
He nodded then pulled her back onto the couch with him, gathering her up in his lap. He stroked her hair and her face and her belly like he was reassuring himself she was all there, her and the baby both. Then he took a deep breath and blew it out. “If those wards break, I won’t be able to protect you.”
“I still have my blade.”
“I know.” He grimaced and held her tighter. “What I mean is that I won’t be here at all. I wove a death spell into them.”
She leaned away. “What?”
“A death spell. It’s when—”
“I know what it is!” She pushed off his lap and stood. A great quivering took hold of her body. “Why would you do this, Leksander?” This shaking… it took her a long moment to understand it. Fear. It was fear.
He looked pained. “Because the shadow angelings were attacking, we were on the run, and I had to make sure you were safe.”
“But a death spell?” She had said she understood… but she didn’t. Not really. How could he risk his life just to strengthen the wards?
He stood up and reached for her, but she backed away. “Erelah, please. I would give anything, including my life, for you and the baby. You know that. This is all I have to give.”
“It’s too much.” Her voice quavered, and her body was still shaking. If anyone would be dying, it would be her… but not before this baby was born. If she managed that, all was supposed to be right with the world. Now she had to worry that, if they were attacked, and Elyon broke through, that Leksander would simply die.
“I’m sorry.” He grimaced. “I shouldn’t have told you.”
This… this was the thing he was holding back when she thought there was nothing he could say that would break her True Love. And this didn’t… but the idea that she might carry and bear Leksander’s child but still lose him… it was making great waves of horror rock through her body.
Leksander wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Take them down.” It came out as a sob.
He pulled back and held her cheeks. “Not until the baby is born.”
“Leksander.”
“The danger is still the same.” His eyes were pained, but not enough… he would not budge on this, she could tell.
She wanted to rage at him. She wanted to be angry. But all she felt was this sense of cold terror. Because he was right—at any moment, Elyon could strike. And if he succeeded, Leksander would die. Just… die. No fight could save him. Nothing she did would matter. But he did it to protect her and the baby… and she couldn’t waste any minutes being angry at him for such a selfless thing.
She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him. “Distract me,” she said. “Distract me from this.”
And so he did. Starting with kisses and quickly building to more. She’d reveled in their lovemaking before, but now it seemed like a lifeline. This was how she would survive the next four weeks… buried in Leksander’s arms and praying Elyon would never come.
“Hang on, let me call Leonidas,” his brother Lucian said.
Leksander was conferencing with him on the screen in his bedroom. They’d taken to doing daily check-ins, which he slipped in while Erelah was resting. She did that more often now—the baby was growing, and so were her human needs for food and rest. The rest of the time, Leksander focused on pleasuring his mate and distracting her from the dangers that loomed outside the walls of his lair. She was three weeks into the pregnancy now—halfway—and he was literally counting the days to the birth. These morning calls were his way of marking time, getting through another day. Lucian’s rambling reports were predictable—Markos was an asshole, the sexy female angelings were distracting his warriors, and little Larik, their father’s namesake, had performed some stunning feat of dragonling prowess… like rolling over.
Leksander looked forward to it.
But bringing Leonidas into the mix was new. “How’s little Thorn doing?” Leksander asked while they waited for Leonidas.
“Good. Rosalyn and Arabella have regular playdates for the kids.” Lucian seemed distracted by something off screen. When he turned back, he said, “You know they’re dying to have your dragonling join the Little Prince Club.”
“Tell me they’re not seriously calling it that.”
“Hell yeah, they are.” Lucian snorted a laugh and shook his head.
Leksander made a face, but he would give anything to have life be normal in the keep once again. And with three new dragon princes? It would make all of this torment worthwhile.
He had to look away from the screen to get his emotions under control.
“Hey,” Lucian said to someone off screen.
A second later, Leonidas appeared. “Hey, sorry. Had to… um… take care of a thing.” He exchanged a look with Lucian that quickly turned into a wordless conversation.
The hairs on the back of Leksander’s neck rose. “What’s going on?”
Lucian winced but nodded to Leonidas, who spoke first, but didn’t actually answer his question. “How are things with Erelah?” he asked earnestly.
“Fine.” Leksander scowled. His brothers were hiding something from him… and they better knock that shit off right now. “Baby’s growing. Everything’s normal. She’s resting and eating. Taking a nap as we speak.” He waited, but Leonidas said nothing, just nodded along. “Okay, what the hell aren’t you telling me?”
Now Leonidas was the one grimacing. “We wanted to make sure Erelah was out of the first trimester before we… well, before we clued you in. Sorry, my brother. Lucian made the call.”
Lucian snarled. “Sometimes, it fucking sucks to be king.”
Leksander’s stomach clenched. What was happening?
“Anyway,” Leonidas continued. “The world’s basically going to hell.”
Lucian rolled his eyes. “Way to ease in slowly.”
Leonidas put up his hands. “Hey, I thought we should have told him from the start.”
“Fucking spit it out!” Leksander hissed, keeping his voice low, so he didn’t wake Erelah. She was downstairs, but still. Angelings.
“All right, here’s the deal,” Leonidas said. “The demon uprising is escalating. And when I say escalating, I mean it’s reached some kind of tipping point. Half the city is in lockdown. The humans don’t know what the hell is happening, but obviously, we do. Markos has been calling on his angel friends to lend their air support, but a good fraction of his own forces are here at the keep, running patrols inside and out. It’s wall-to-wall feathers here.”
Leksander squinted. “How long has this been going on?”
“Pretty much since you arrived two weeks ago,” Lucian replied.
“Two weeks?” Leksander shook his head. “With that many angelings… how do you guys not have this under control?”
Lucian cringed, but it was Leonidas who answered. “It turns out those angel assholes of the light? They don’t have anywhere near as many angelings as the shadow ones.”
Leksander frowned. “The shadow angelings are in Seattle?”
“They fucking own Seattle,” Leonidas said.
“That’s not true,” Lucian grumbled.
“Close enough.” Leonidas scowled at him then turned to face the screen. “Basically, it’s angeling war over the city while the demons are running amok. We
’re losing angelings every day.”
“Holy shit,” Leksander said, the impact of this finally hitting him. “But why? I mean… the demon thing is Zephan’s doing. Why would the shadow forces… oh. Shit.”
“Yeah.” Leonidas nodded. “Zephan’s in league with the shadow angels and angelings. Or at least this one guy, Elyon, and his troops.”
Leksander rubbed a hand across his face. This was fucking bad. “Erelah said Elyon was supposed to turn her over to the fae. Which, I’m sure, was Zephan. But Elyon’s got his own issues with the angels of the light. Are we sure this is the fae’s doing?”
“At a minimum, Zephan set all this in motion,” Lucian said. “He’s the one who enhanced the vampires to infect the humans with demon essence. Hard to say if it’s escalating now because he did something more… or if it’s just now coming to a head. Either way, it’s hell out there right now for humanity.”
“I think this is 100% Zephan,” Leonidas said. “The hacking attacks… that’s got to be him.”
“Wait, what?” Leksander said. “What hacking attacks?”
“The first wave was on our security systems,” Lucian said. “But the fae know fuck-all about computers. That could have just been—”
“That was not a coincidence,” Leonidas cut him off. “And Zephan pretends to be clueless about lowly human technology, but the boy developed magic-spliced gene-tech for vampires. He has a fucking clue.”
Sweet magic. “Did Zephan breach our security?” Leksander asked, his voice hiking up.
“We’ve cut off access to the outside world,” Lucian said. “Went old school with patrols and lookouts. Dragons and telepathy. He won’t catch us by surprise if that’s what he’s thinking.”
“But the wards…” Leksander’s mouth was running dry. “They’re still up, right?” He could tell nothing —obviously—from inside his lair, not with his own personal wards up.
“Still up,” Leonidas confirmed. “But there have been concentrated magical attacks on those too. Sporadic. Different kinds. He’s fucking pounding on the door, Leksander. Not to alarm you, but it’s really a situation out here.”
Leksander scrubbed a hand over his face. “Holy shit, we’ve got three more weeks to go.”
“We’ll hold them off,” Leonidas said with a lot more confidence in his voice than Leksander was feeling at the moment. “But you’ve got to get that baby born. Once that happens, Zephan’s got no quarrel with the House of Smoke anymore. The treaty renews; he stops fucking with us. And the rest of humanity. It’s that simple. And I’m pretty sure that’s the only solution at this point because we’re not winning this on dragon power. Or even angel power. We’re in a siege. Holding tight, but still. This is a war of endurance. We’ll hold the line, my brother, but get that baby born.”
“Right.” Leksander swallowed. “Okay. I’m not telling Erelah any of this. None of it, you understand?”
Lucian raised his hands, gesturing to the screen and giving Leonidas a look that said, See? I told you.
Leonidas scowled in return. “Tell him,” he said to Lucian.
“There’s fucking more?” Leksander’s voice screeched a little, and he fought to keep it down. He really didn’t want to wake Erelah.
Lucian grimaced but turned to face him. “Tajael’s gone missing. We’re pretty sure the shadow have him.”
“Ah, fuck.” Leksander cringed, actually stepping back. “Okay, that cannot get to Erelah’s ears. Not before the baby comes.”
“Agreed,” Leonidas said.
“And you’ll let me know if the wards are breached.” Leksander put a warning in his voice.
“Absolutely,” Lucian said with a nod for emphasis.
“And there’s one more thing,” Leksander said, wincing at the slightly-alarmed look on his brother’s faces. “I wove a death spell into the wards around my lair. If they go down… you’ll have to come in and defend Erelah and the baby for me.” He should have told them this two weeks ago, but he had no idea things were so dire.
“You did what?” Lucian threw out his hands then jammed them into his hair like he would pull it out.
“Erelah knows,” Leksander added. “Just get your asses in here and save them, okay?”
“You know we will,” Leonidas said. Lucian was still cursing under his breath.
Leksander nodded. “I’ve got to go. She could wake any time now. These angelings don’t sleep much.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.” Leonidas rubbed the back of his neck.
That’s when Leksander noticed the dark circles under both his brothers’ eyes. They must have been running ragged, keeping the crazed world away from him and his mate and his child.
Leksander pressed a hand to the screen. “Thank you, my brothers.”
Leonidas put his palm to the screen. Lucian grumbled under his breath but did the same.
Leksander reached out to magically swipe the screen off. Then he let out a deep sigh. Somehow he had to wipe all this from his mind and keep Erelah blissfully unaware as long as possible.
Three weeks.
It was an eternity.
And it felt like Erelah’s End of Times was already happening, right outside their walls. Which was precisely why she couldn’t know anything about it. Zephan’s attacks—and he was sure Leonidas was right, this was all Zephan, even if Elyon was doing his ugly bidding—were all about making sure Erelah didn’t deliver their child. The best way—possibly the only way—to defeat him would be to surround Erelah in a blanket of love and protection and bliss until their son took his first breath.
Then fuck that fae. Leksander would find a way to kill him.
For now, everything was about Erelah.
He scrubbed his face once more, took a deep breath, plastered his most winning smile on his face, and strode from his bedroom to seek his mate.
Two more weeks.
Erelah only had two more weeks to carry this child, but her belly was already enormous. She sat propped at the head of Leksander’s bed, and she could barely see her legs folded underneath her. She remembered when Arabella and especially Rosalyn had carried their dragonlings. She was present at the birthing, helping each in that time of magical need. She did not recall their bellies swelling so large. Or their breasts. Or that the raging need for sexual pleasure was both more intense and more satisfying.
They would not have shared that last part.
“Are you done?” Leksander asked, clearing away the wrappings for several flavors of cheese, an entire sleeve of crackers, now empty, and a bowl that once held grapes.
She swallowed down the last bite. “I didn’t think it was possible to eat this much.”
Her mate grinned as he carried off the detritus of her second meal of the day. Perhaps her belly was as large as it was because of the food she was consuming. On the other hand, the baby hummed his delight as the sustenance hit her bloodstream and fed him as well. She drummed her fingers on her belly, and the baby kicked a small foot out with impressive strength for one so small. He would make a good warrior someday.
Leksander returned as she played this secret game with his son—tapping one part, getting a response, then tapping another. She’d conjured a toga for her mealtime, but the bare skin of her belly stretched far beyond the confines of the cloth.
Leksander settled on the bed next to her. “What are you doing?” he asked, eyes alight.
“Give me your hand,” she instructed.
He gave her a curious look but complied. She placed it on her belly so he would feel the tiny kicks when they came.
“Now spread your fingers like this.” She splayed her hand on the opposite side.
He did so. “I don’t need instructions in how to touch you, Erelah.” He was giving her that sexy look that said he was ready to make love again.
She gave him a pretend scowl. “Now, between your fingers, tap like this.” She showed him, and when he repeated her motion, the baby punched hard right where his hand lay.
His eyes went
wide. “Does that hurt?”
“No.” She smiled. In Truth, it was a little uncomfortable. She could imagine this game wouldn’t work so well once the baby was even larger and stronger. Which she had a hard time picturing. She knew Arabella and Rosalyn didn’t literally explode when their child reached full term… yet it somehow felt like a possibility. This angel-dragonling might just burst his way out.
Leksander tapped twice more, the delight on his face more than enough reward for the small pokes the baby was delivering.
Then his eyes half-closed, and he growled, “Do you have any idea how sexy you are?”
“Because my baby can perform tricks?” But she smiled. She knew he loved every part of her body as it grew with the baby—he told her in detail quite often.
“Because you are carrying my child.” He kissed her belly. Then a little lower. And lower still. “And you’re half naked on my bed.”
“Should I magick these away and become fully naked?” she asked with a grin. Their lovemaking was virtually continuous—any time she wasn’t sleeping or eating, and she had just finished both.
“No,” he said as he lifted the flimsy skirt of her toga. “I like you just like this.” Then he dove between her legs, his talented tongue leading the way, and soon she was gripping the white linens of his bed and calling out his name, urging him on. The largeness of her belly was forgotten in the throes of the orgasm that quickly raged up and swept through her—from her toes, which dug into the bed, to her face flushed hot with the heat of their lovemaking.
She bucked against Leksander, singing angelsong to keep from lifting him off the bed with her pulse of power, and she rode the wave until it was done. Then she slumped back into the bed. Only then did Leksander raise his head, smug masculine pride writ all over it.
“Turn over,” he commanded.
And she wished to comply—especially with his cock so stiff and ready—but moving had become awkward, and her sense of being so much larger than normal zoomed back. Leksander quickly came to her rescue, giving her a hand up to her knees and a quick kiss on the mouth. Then he gently turned her around to face the head of the bed and the windows above it. She bent over to grasp hold of the window’s edge, bracing herself as the warm afternoon sunshine streamed in. It was nothing but blue skies outside.
