Claimed by a Dragon (Fallen Immortals 9) - Paranormal Fairytale Romance

by Alisa Woods

  “And dragonling. He will be both.” She gave him a single nod as if this was right and natural and good. It made sense—his father was a dragon and his mother an angeling.

  At the same time, it was wondrous.

  She smiled and turned to face the window, rubbing her delightful bottom against his now-stiffening cock. Show time.

  He reached down to her hips—

  Erelah’s sharp intake of breath startled him. Then something smacked against the window just above him. His heart nearly jolted out of his body. Erelah reeled back into his arms, water splashing everywhere, and his brain could barely make sense of what he saw.

  An angeling. Outside the window. He was falling away, tumbling head over heels, his blond hair and white wings catching the sun before he dropped out of sight.

  Before Leksander could even react, a shadow angeling rocketed past the window, heading straight down, toward the falling angeling of light.

  Erelah gasped. “Lekasander!” She turned to him, eyes wide, the back of her hand pressed to her mouth.

  Holy fuck, what was happening? He scrambled to pull her back from the window, but the water was slowing them down, dragging at them. He magicked the entire thing away then caught Erelah as she stumbled and nearly fell without the support of the water. He gathered her into his arms and retreated from the windows as far as they could… which was only to the entranceway.

  She was shaking. He didn’t know if it was cold or fear or anger—a wide-eyed fury was on her face—but he quickly magicked away the water from both their bodies and covered them with clothes.

  “The shadow angelings are here!” Her eyes were dilated, and he was sure that was fear.

  “They can’t get in.” He was sure that was true for angelings. But if they’d brought Elyon…

  Erelah took a halting step toward the window.

  “Erelah, no!” He tugged her back.

  “That angeling…” She turned back, cheeks even more pale. “It was Tajael.”

  “What?” Now his eyes were wide. He looked back to the window. There was no more activity outside—none they could see, at least. But there could be a full on angeling war going on above the keep, and they might not see it.

  As long as a stray body didn’t slam into the window. An immortal body. Because it was the wards, not the window, that kept that angeling from sailing into their living room.

  Anything else…

  His stomach hollowed out. “Erelah.” He grabbed hold of her shoulders to tear her worried gaze from the window. “It wasn’t Tajael.” Unless they’d brought the angeling back only to toss him off the roof—the last he’d heard, Tajael had been captured by the shadow angelings. But it made no sense to bring him here.

  “He was—” She looked back to the window. “He seemed—”

  “Erelah.”

  Her attention whipped back to him.

  “We have to get away from the windows.”

  Her eyes went wide, and she nodded rapidly. He took her by the hand and tried to think fast. Which room in his lair was furthest from the windows? From the roof? Shit. Virtually every room had a kind of window or skylight or some damn thing. He towed her away from the front door, down the side of the great room, and toward the guest room in the back. He never used it—it was tiny, meant for one—but it had no windows and was on the bottom floor, furthest from the roof. When he had the door closed behind him, he ran a hand through his hair.

  “Shit.” He looked back to the door. “I left the phone in the kitchen.” He hesitated then waved her over to the bed in the corner. “You wait here. I’m going to run out, get the phone, and I’ll be right back.”

  She pursed her lips together but turned and strode quickly over to the bed. Before she was even sitting, he was tearing out of the room, dashing across his lair, and going for the phone. Internally, he was cursing the whole way. Erelah didn’t know Tajael had been captured. She didn’t know about the ongoing demon uprising in Seattle. Or that an angeling war was raging in the world outside the keep. His brothers were supposed to be handling this. And if they weren’t—if there were fucking angelings smashing into his window—then things had to have gotten worse outside.

  Much worse.

  He grabbed the phone and dialed on his way back to the guest room. A quick glance at the window showed no more angelings. But that meant nothing.

  Erelah sat cross-legged on the bed, cradling her belly as if she could protect the baby with her arms. Leksander’s heart cringed at the sight, but he closed the door behind him and paced the room while he waited for Lucian to pick up.

  He wasn’t picking up.

  “Fuck!” He tapped that off and dialed Leonidas. Still nothing.

  “It was Tajael,” Erelah said quietly. “I’m sure of it.”

  “It wasn’t Tajael.” He flipped through his contacts. Who could he call?

  Erelah was nodding to herself. “He would defend us. He would be the last on the line. They would have to fight through him—”

  “It wasn’t Tajael.” Leksander found Rosalyn’s number and dialed.

  Erelah frowned at him and slowly rose from the bed. “How do you know?”

  He was saved from answering by Rosalyn picking up on the first ring. “Leksander?” Her voice was strung tight.

  “What the hell is happening?” he demanded. “There’s an angeling fight outside our window!”

  “Oh, shit.” She let out a breath that sounded like she was on the move. “Leonidas is supposed to be back from the patrols. I told him not to go. I told him!” He heard a baby crying in the background. Then the sound rushed closer. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s all right.”

  Leksander rubbed his face with the hand not holding the phone. “Okay, you… you just take care of Thorn. We’re sitting tight here. Call me when you know something.”

  “Okay.” The phone was muffled. The baby’s crying had quieted, but the small sounds of upset were a lot closer. Rosalyn must have picked him up. “They can’t get through the wards,” she said, meaning the angelings. “And I know Leonidas won’t drop the wards to come inside. Not with angelings outside and our babies in here.”

  “No,” Leksander agreed quickly. He shouldn’t be panicking Rosalyn any more than necessary. “No, you’re safe in your lair. Stay there. We’ll do the same.”

  “I’ll call you if I hear anything.” The phone line clicked off.

  Erelah was scanning his face, so he quickly relayed the phone conversation. “Whatever this is, they’re fighting it,” Leksander assured her. “They’ve got Markos and his angelings. They can hold them off.” He swallowed and prayed that was true. Then he stuffed the phone in his pocket and gathered his mate into his arms. “They can’t get through to us. I promise.”

  “The wards are holding.” Her voice was surprisingly calm.

  “Yeah. You saw it.” If nothing else, an angeling of light crashed into their windows and bounced off. If it was just the windows, they would have shattered with that kind of impact. But that didn’t mean the shadow forces wouldn’t get creative and try something. Leksander pulled back to look at Erelah’s troubled face. “The wards are holding, and I don’t think that shadow angeling saw us. But they might try crashing something through—”

  “Like the tree at the cave.” Her cheeks were so pale.

  “Like the tree. Or… something else.” He didn’t even want to speak his fears at this point because they were too alive in his mind. “We’ll just stay away from the windows until this is handled.”

  She pulled back from him. “That angeling…”

  He winced.

  “How do you know he’s not Tajael?” She was giving him a steely-eyed look.

  He wouldn’t be able to squirm his way out of this. And with angelings crashing into the window… she might as well know the truth. “I can’t be sure,” he admitted. “But supposedly, Tajael was captured by the shadow realm.”

  Her eyes widened in horror.

  “There’s a lot of fightin
g going on,” he rushed out. “They may have just taken him prisoner. I mean, they’re out there having a war. They probably don’t have time to—”

  “How long?” she cut him off.

  He swallowed. “How long for—”

  “Leksander.” She was pissed. “How long have you been keeping this from me? How long has Tajael been captured?”

  He straightened. Better to take his lumps straight out. “About two weeks. Things have been going badly on the outside. Demon uprising. Angeling war in Seattle.” He couldn’t help glancing at the door. “And apparently now here.”

  She shook her head, slowly, her hand reflexively covering her belly. She took a step back, and then another.

  “Erelah, I would have told you, but—”

  “No,” she said, gaze distant as she backed up and slowly sat on the bed. “You were protecting me. And the baby.” She wasn’t looking at him.

  He hurried to her side and dropped to his knees. Then he scooped up her hands and waited until she finally dragged her gaze to meet his. “I’m sorry, my love. But no matter what, no one is getting in this lair. I promise you that.”

  She nodded, but it was vacant. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she looked away. “Tajael is lost. Humanity is suffering. Angelings are…” She choked up and looked back, her beautiful face twisted up with the effort of holding back those tears. “It is as foretold. The End Times.”

  “No.” But a rush of fear went through him. Could she be right? Was merely daring to try to have this angeling child already tearing things apart? “I can’t believe that. Not now.”

  She examined his face. Tears crested and raced each other down her face. She put a hand to his cheek. “We must survive, Leksander.”

  Relief gushed through him. “I know.”

  “Everything depends on our baby.” She rested a hand on her belly between them. “We shall avenge Tajael by surviving.” The grief on her face was killing him.

  “He might still be—”

  “He is lost.” She dropped her gaze and shook her head. “He wouldn’t allow them to get this close if he still lived.”

  Leksander wanted to argue that maybe Tajael was still captured. Maybe he simply couldn’t. But then that would mean Tajael had been in the shadow realm for weeks… and Leksander couldn’t imagine any angeling of light surviving that long. Not even Tajael.

  His phone rang from his pocket, startling them both. He hurried to fish it out. “Yeah?” he said quickly, not even checking the caller.

  It was Rosalyn. “They’re okay. Your brothers. They’re back inside the keep.”

  “So the fight’s over then?”

  “Yes,” Rosalyn said. “For now.”

  Leksander didn’t know exactly what that meant, but he gave Erelah a reassuring nod.

  She lay down on the bed, curling over on her side. His heart ached more with each tear that slid down her face. He stood and stepped back.

  “What happened?” Leksander demanded more quietly as he stepped to the far side of the room.

  “I guess the shadow angelings somehow cloaked and took everyone by surprise when Leonidas and Lucian returned to the keep. Your brothers managed to keep them out, but the angelings of light were trapped inside. Others had to be called in from the patrols to help.”

  “But Lucian and Leonidas are all right?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” He could hear the relief in her voice. “And those shadow bastards took off as soon as Leonidas dropped the wards and allowed Markos to get out of the keep to join the fight.”

  “So everything’s clear?”

  “I think so.”

  Leksander swallowed. “All right. Here’s the thing. I’m not bringing Erelah and the baby near any windows or anywhere on the second level of my lair. That’s right under the roof.” And he remembered all too well when he had gone mad in his wyvern form—he’d literally torn a hole through it. Magic had fixed the roof, but it was just too close.

  “Good idea.”

  “Tell Leonidas we need some kind of reinforcement—physical reinforcement—around my lair. I don’t want anything getting in that just happens not to be made of magic.” He didn’t really want to say what out loud with Erelah listening. Guns. Poison. Rocket launchers, for fuck’s sake. They could put anything through the windows—hell, even the walls—if they were determined enough.

  And he was sure they were determined enough.

  Erelah didn’t move from her quiet crying on the bed.

  “You got it,” Rosalyn said. “As soon as everything’s settled down, they’ll get right on it.”

  “Thanks. Keep me in the loop.” Then he swiped the phone closed and hustled over to the bed. It was entirely too small for two people, much less one oversized dragon prince and a very pregnant angeling.

  But Leksander slid in next to Erelah, anyway…

  And just held her while she cried.

  “Six weeks exactly?” Erelah asked. Was he serious?

  “Dragonlings are notoriously on time,” Leksander replied. “Gestation is so fast that each day is almost like a week. So where humans might be a week early or late, that’s only a day for dragons.” He shuffled around the pastries and fruits on the tray in front of her—he’d left it sitting on the couch, perhaps in hopes she would eat more, but her body rebelled at the thought. At six weeks into this pregnancy—exactly, in an hour—her belly presented a challenge to seeing, moving, sitting, or just about any other activity. And food was utterly contemptible.

  She was sure there was no room inside her except for this child.

  And he only grew more active as each day wore on.

  And they had been long days. The past week—since she’d learnt of Tajael’s death, the angeling war raging outside, and the possible End of Times approaching—she’d slept more than any other in her life. Their lovemaking had ceased for the simple reason that she couldn’t bear it—as if joy had died at that moment, along with her steadfast friend. Tajael was the only person other than Leksander whom she had thought of as her family. Even Markos, her faction leader and substitute father, didn’t hold her heart the way Tajael had. And no other angeling had ever been a more fierce friend.

  She hoisted her belly around so she could sit straighter on the couch. “So I should be giving birth within the hour.”

  Leksander scowled at the uneaten food but started gathering it up anyway. “Well, it’s not that precise.”

  “And this is an angeling,” she reminded him. “I’m unsure the gestation time on those.” Somehow, it had never been important to learn. “Perhaps the birth will be delayed.”

  Leksander grimaced and carried the food away. She could hardly stand the thought herself. More time in this purgatory? It might drive her mad. She attempted to banish that thought from her mind. No good could come of such morose thinking. But her dark mood lingered. Somehow, it did not feel as if the baby were about to be born. She’d discussed it with Rachel and knew all the facts of dragon-human hybrids and their pregnancies. But she was angeling… and so was her child.

  There was no knowing this before it happened.

  Leksander returned from the kitchen and held his hands out to her. “Come walk for a bit.”

  She had no desire to move, but it was supposed to encourage the baby to come. So she took his help in gaining liberation from the couch.

  He kept one hand in hers but slipped the other to the small of her back, as if he expected her to topple over. She was ungainly, but not that much. Yet she allowed it. Perhaps the fever of their lovemaking was quenched by the sorrow in her heart, but his touch still held magic—and not just the electric, erotic kind. It was a soothing feeling. A security that said, You’re safe, as much or more as the welded metal that covered the windows. It now felt as if they lived inside a box—but it was a secure box, hardened against anything the shadow angelings might decide to ram through the magical wards which protected her and the baby.

  She took small steps… because there was nowhere to go but the same
well-worn path she’d been traveling. Through the great room. Down the hall to the guest room. Back to the kitchen. Leksander didn’t like it when she went up the stairs to the bedroom, so she stayed below and slept in the guest room. He curled next to her at first then took to sleeping on the floor next to the bed.

  Between her and the door.

  He’d brought the large screen down from the bedroom and installed it in the living room so he could communicate with his brothers about the outside world.

  None of it was good.

  The baby gave a sizeable kick as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. She teetered slightly, and Leksander braced her. It was hardly awkward—they’d spent so much time doing this walking routine, they had a dance about it. Easy and comfortable. Another way he soothed her with his simple presence. It helped her to forget the world outside where mortal and immortal fires were threatening to burn it down.

  They walked through the kitchen and exited out into the hall. “Do your brothers know the hour approaches?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Rosalyn is on standby to guide you via the screen. If you want.” He peered at her.

  Of course, no one was going in or out of the lair to come help her. Leksander alone would help her deliver the child. Strangely, that part didn’t frighten her as it probably should. She’d attended the births of Thorn and Larik. She knew what to expect in terms of pain and difficulty for herself. That was of no concern. Her only concern was that something might go wrong with the child.

  “It would be good to have her guidance,” Erelah said. She had discussed this out of Leksander’s hearing. If there were problems with the birth, Rosalyn was to instruct Leksander to take the baby with her blade. Or his talons. Long ago, Lucian had used his dragon talons to slice open his mate’s belly when the baby was in distress. The baby and mate had both perished, but it needn’t be so for her baby. Erelah might not survive the surgery, but the child was fully formed. He could exist on his own. If her body didn’t see fit to release him, Rosalyn had vowed to make Leksander go through with it.

  Hopefully, it would not come to that.