She’d been drowsy, compliant, when he’d carried her to the bathroom and bathed her. She’d all but curled into a ball in the bed as he applied cream gently to her sore bottom—a job he would never complain about. Then she’d curled into him, her legs tangled in his, her face pressed to his chest as she fell asleep.
They only had a few more miles before they left Idaho, and Baylee’s keen interest in her surroundings faded with each tire rotation. No more eager peering, no keen studying of the passing landscape. She simply brought her knees up, resting her heels on the edge of her seat, and rested her head against her legs.
Disturbed, Daxon wondered frantically if he’d hurt her, physically or mentally, and cursed himself for losing his temper. She carried his cubs now, and he needed to remember that. It didn’t make her fragile, he reminded himself, but it did make her vulnerable. Cubs were precious gifts to a clan such as his; it meant the lineage would continue, and that a bound couple’s love would last.
His clan didn’t believe in divorce or separation. The bond was it. For life unto death, that couple would be each other’s world. And when cubs were involved...that took commitment to a whole other level.
Signs for Jackpot popped up; Daxon decided it was a good time to stop and refuel—both the truck and his lover. Shifter pregnancies used up as much, if not more calories and energy than the process itself. Barren females had to eat regularly to keep their strength up to shift, and in almost obscene proportions.
A pregnant female could expect to double, even triple that daily intake. By those standards, Baylee hadn’t consumed nearly enough in the past few days to keep her new system supplied with sustenance.
The solution appeared twenty minutes later; a roadside diner with a handful of motorcycles—Harley Davidsons, Daxon noted with a touch of jealousy—and enough vehicles to make the place look busy. Busy was good, busy meant good trade. Good, fattening food.
He pulled into a space in front of the diner, switched off the engine. Something in him sank in dread when Baylee made no move to look around, or ask him where they were, why they’d stopped. Her head never lifted from her knees.
“Baylee?”
She stirred as though waking, her head rising a couple inches. Her blue eyes looked dull, her skin pale and clammy. Daxon reached out, touched her forehead; she burned hotter than seven suns, one of the signs of pregnancy.
“You need food,” he stated, releasing her safety belt.
A faint green cast shadowed her skin. “I really don’t. I feel...terrible. Like I want to throw up and pass out and spontaneously combust at the same time.”
“I guess that defines terrible,” Daxon replied, climbing from the truck. He closed the door on her reply, skirted the hood and opened her door to help her out. She seemed frail, her body shivering uncontrollably. He’d seen this before, when he’d been younger. “You’ll eat, and you’ll feel better. Trust me, baby.”
She swayed, leaning into him as his arm wrapped around her waist. “I don’t think I could manage a piece of toast.”
She’d have to manage more than that. They weren’t leaving here until she’d eaten her fill and placated their cubs. As they climbed the set of low steps, the scent of good food wafted toward them. He scanned the menu—handwritten on a chalkboard beside the double doors—and mentally ordered more than half of what was on offer.
But Baylee balked, turning a darker shade of green. “Too much. Too many scents, they make me want to...” She slapped her hand over her mouth and pleaded him with those stunning eyes.
“Baby, breathe. Just breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You’re going to be fine, I promise. Your body—” Shit, how was he supposed to handle this? Here and now wasn’t the most ideal venue to drop the news on her. “Your body is going through changes, Baylee. Not just adapting to the shift. Hormones in our kind...you’re special. I’m not sure how you’ll react to the hormones.”
She gave a weak laugh, muffled by her hand. “You make it sound like I’m pregnant or something.”
Daxon said nothing, just watched her with a critical gaze for signs she might lose the plot. Surges in emotions in novice shifters could trigger the change. Instinctual changes were some of the hardest to control and damned near impossible to fight. If the beast wanted out, it would come out when the opportunity arose.
Her hand dropped away from her mouth, which dropped a little in shock. Her color fluctuated from green to ash-grey and then to stark-white. Between her black hair and that unnatural paleness, she looked almost dead. “How do you know? Are you—are you sure?”
“Ninety percent. Vex told me; he noticed the alteration in your scent before I did. I think, if you were to ask Sheba, she’ll be able to verify it for sure.”
Her eyes blurred, shutters falling over the blue. “I need to sit down now.”
She didn’t sit so much as fall. Daxon captured her weight, lowered her gently to the top step, turning her so she sat sideways with her back braced against the railing. He crouched beside her, but there was no one home. He recognized that blank look, the shut-down of expression when a shifter reverted internally to converse with the beast.
Stop calling us beasts, Vex chided.
“What the hell do you want me to call you?”
Oh, I don’t know. Friend? Partner? We are partners at the end of the day; we wouldn’t exist without each other and you know it.
“Wrong time for this discussion, Vex. We have bigger, more vital topics to deal with right now.” Daxon cupped Baylee’s face and waited for her to come back to herself.
She did so, only moments later, and there were tears in her eyes. “Always the last to know, I guess.”
He closed his eyes on a surge of guilt. “Sheba confirmed it.”
“You knew she would.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Four halves to this bonded whatever, and three of them kept a secret about the fourth. Don’t I feel stupid.” She gave a sad little hiccup with the potential for it to escalate into a sob. “Stupid idiot who doesn’t even know she’s pregnant.”
“Baylee, don’t.” Daxon surprised himself with the plea.
“I’m having a pity party,” she snapped back. “At least let me mock myself.”
“There’s no mocking,” he assured her. “I was going to tell you once we hit home territory, but the symptoms came on faster than I anticipated. I’d have preferred for you to have support from one of the clan Elders, one of the women who’ve been through this.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Symptoms? Is that what this is to you, Dax, an illness? Wait for the symptoms to manifest and deal with them as they come? I’m not sick, I’m pregnant.” With this, she burst into noisy sobs.
His heart sank. His own joy faded into despair as he contemplated the unfortunately real possibility Baylee might not want children. His children. He sighed quietly. “I never meant for this to happen, not so soon.”
“No? Then how did it happen, Dax? Because I remember you telling me I wasn’t in heat, couldn’t get pregnant. That it was safe.”
“At that time, you weren’t. But you disappeared into the forest, baby, for ten days. That’s enough time for you to come into heat. I didn’t...finding you out there, finding out you’d become a shifter, threw me for a loop. I was desperate not to lose you again, never gave thought to anything else but claiming you.”
Her bottom lip quivered and he wanted nothing more than to kiss it, suck it until the tremors stopped. “Do you want this, Daxon? Is this the way you saw your life unfolding?”
He dropped out of the crouch onto his knees. The dull thump of pain barely registered. “Baylee, I made the biggest decision of my life taking you as my mate. I love you, and I can’t imagine anything more precious than bringing new life into the world with you. A little ahead of schedule,” he said with a frown, “but who cares? Planned, unplanned. As long as those cubs—our cubs—come out safely and you’re there to hold us together as a unit, the time doesn’t matter. We matter, Baylee.”
/> She rubbed her hands over her face, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Cubs? As in, baby pussy cats and more than one?”
“Cubs as in tiny, gorgeous bundles of fur. We have multiple births in our family; twins and triplets aren’t uncommon—you just need to look at my family to see the regularity. Quads and quintuplets are not out of the realm.”
“Oh fabulous.” Baylee surrendered and leaned against him.
“The question is whether this is what you want. I know we talked about children in general but we’re well out of the hypothetical now. How do you feel about it?” Dax waited with bated breath.
“Terrified.” She pressed her hand to her belly. “I have a baby growing inside me, which would have been strange enough without the possibility that it might not just be one and they might not be human. No, not might. Won’t. I don’t even know what I am anymore and I’m bringing more of me into a world I don’t understand.”
He covered the hand on her belly with his own, squeezing gently. “You’re still human, Baylee. Just not all of you. For some reason, you’ve been gifted with Sheba and that’s a wondrous thing. Between us, we’ll bring life into a world where our gift runs short and continue our existence. That’s an immeasurable honor.”
She stared at him bleakly. “Maybe it is, Dax, for someone born into your...what did you call it? Clan. For a woman born into the clan, it maybe is an honor. But for me? I’m a nobody. I don’t belong with humans anymore, and I’m going to be shocked if your family welcomes me unequivocally into their arms. I’m not one thing or the other.”
His heart broke at her insecurities, empathy welling inside him as he tried to envision what she must be feeling. Miles from the only place she’d ever known as home, believing she couldn’t belong anywhere, heading toward a place she should see as heaven but seeing only her flaws.
Fearing rejection.
“Hello folks, everything okay out here?”
Startled by the voice, Daxon barely restrained himself from whipping around and baring his teeth as a warning. Instead he took a brief moment to calm Vex, bring his heart rate down a notch, then rose and greeted the intruder. “Everything’s fine, thank you.”
The woman was about five-six in her flat-heeled boots, and almost as wide. Blue hair—yes, blue—circled her head in a halo of tight curls. She wiped work-weathered hands on a checked cloth, then set them on her ample hips.
Hazel eyes looked him up and down, weighed him up with wisdom earned through experience. Thick lips pursed in thought. “Couple of regulars saw your young lady take a spill.”
Daxon summoned his best charming smile and ignored the fact a vitally important conversation had just been derailed. By the way Baylee tucked her head down, he figured it’d be another few hours at least before he got her to open up again. “We’ve had a long journey. She’s tired and hungry. We’ll come inside in just a minute.”
“Looks peaky.” A nametag on the woman’s rather large breast stated Marjorie in black chunky letters.
His temper began to boil; Vex paced silently in his head, his agitation beginning to ramp up Daxon’s own volatility. “Like I said, we’ll be in in just a moment.”
Marjorie looked past him to Baylee. “I’d like to hear it from the young woman, if you don’t mind.”
What she was implying, Daxon realized with a growl, was unconscionable. People only asked to hear something from a person’s mouth if they didn’t believe the one talking. Which implied abuse. His lips peeled back in a snarl. “Baylee, would you please put Marjorie’s mind at ease?”
Baylee sighed and offered her hand to him. She staggered as he helped her to her feet, tucked herself into the warmth of his body as she shivered. They faced Marjorie as a couple, interlocked, a united front.
“I’m pregnant,” Baylee said flatly. Her hand linked tighter with his. “I’m exhausted, I’m sick and I’m starving. Thank you for your concern, Marjorie, but I’d appreciate it if you’d let us finish our conversation so we can come inside and sample some of the food that smells so...nice.” As though tempering the snarky edge to her words, Baylee attempted a wan smile.
The older woman beamed at her. “Oh my! No wonder you’re looking so peaked. I’m going to go set you both a place in one of the quiet booths, you just come on in when you’re good and ready.” Smiling like an Easter Bunny who ate all the chocolate, Marjorie disappeared back inside, whistling as she went.
Baylee’s knees gave way a moment later and she clung to Dax. “I thought pregnancy was all morning sickness and getting fat. Why am I feeling like this?”
“You’re burning up more calories than you’re eating,” he explained gently as he led her toward the doors. “So you’re going to look at the menu, order whatever you feel like, and you’re going to eat until you’re fit to burst.
“We’ve got about another ten or eleven hours’ drive left, and you’re going to sleep your way through it. Every few hours we’ll stop, refuel, and repeat. If you need something, you let me know. Cravings are still part of the package deal, even for our kind.”
“What if I start craving live things?” she asked in a low tone.
“Living, breathing things?” Daxon paused. “Are you? Craving them.”
She looked heartbreakingly lost for a moment, then seemed to shake it off. She smiled at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I could murder a deer.”
“If it comes down to that, then a deer you shall have. As the provider of our growing family, it’s my duty to find anything you wish.” He said it solemnly and watched the smile spread into a semblance of a grin. “There we go. I love it when you smile, baby.”
They pushed through into the homey interior, letting the door swing lazily shut behind them. Daxon eyed up potential threats as several pairs of eyes zoomed in on them and conversations came to abrupt halts. His protection instinct kicked in and he found himself wanting to range his body in front of Baylee, shield her from those assessing stares.
Stools lined up along a long brown counter, with several asses occupying them. Mainly bikers, he determined, and gave a longing thought toward the Harleys parked outside. A few circular tables and chairs scattered over the main space with only a few older couples seated. The bulk of the seating arrangements were the booths along the wall; only one was full, a group of teenagers huddled over their sodas and burgers, snickering at the new arrivals.
Marjorie bustled over, expertly skirting around the middle tables despite her bulk. For a larger woman, she moved with surprising grace. “Come on in, come on in! Out of the cold. This way,” she beamed, and ushered them toward a corner booth well away from the teenagers and the other occupied tables. She waited until they were seated, then offered them each a laminated menu. “What would you like to drink? I’ll get them while you decide what you’d like to eat.”
“Coke, no ice,” Daxon decided, longing for something sweet and cold. There was still a long way to go and he’d need the caffeine kick. “Baylee?”
She worried her bottom lip, chewing on it lightly. “May I have an iced lemon tea please?”
“Absolutely, sweetheart.” Marjorie scribbled on a notepad she pulled from the massive front pocket of her apron. “One coke, no ice; one iced lemon tea. I’ll be right back with those.” She scurried off again.
Music memorabilia from the twenties through sixties decorated the walls. Music legends in frames, some with signatures scrawled over them. He doubted the teenagers giggling in the other booth had a clue who half the icons staring down at them were.
His attention flicked back to Baylee, who studied the menu with the intensity of a starving woman. Which essentially, he reminded himself, she was. Her body burned away its resources more and more with every hour she denied it additional nourishment. “See anything you like?”
“They’re going to think I’m a freak if I order everything I want.”
He grinned. “Who cares what they think, baby? This is a one-time visit, we won’t be back. Eat what you want, enjo
y it, and fuck their opinions.” He took her hand. “Just make sure you get some red meat.”
They were smiling at each other when Marjorie came back with a tray balanced delicately on her stubby fingers. With a flourish, she set their drinks down and tucked the tray under her arm, fishing out her reliable notepad and pen. “Are you ready to order?”
Daxon winked at Baylee, relieved when her lips twitched against what might have been a laugh. “My lovely lady here is feeling a bit peckish so I’ll let her order first. Baylee?”
She bit her lip, eyes dropping down to the menu. “Okay, I’ll have three double burgers, no fries or salad. Two plates of the barbequed ribs, one of the all-day breakfasts, and oh, a couple of the thirty-two ounce steaks, rare. Thanks.”
The tray dropped to the floor with a clatter that drew everyone’s attention, followed by Marjorie’s pen. Ever the gallant gentleman, Daxon bent and picked up both items, offering them back as Marjorie stared at Baylee with an open mouth.
“Got all that?” he asked pleasantly.
“A-are you sure you want to order all that?” Marjorie stuttered, still blinking blindly. Anyone would think she’d been conked on the head by a two-by-four.
Baylee pursed her lips. “Now you mention it, I could probably choke down the bacon and sausage platter.”
He could have kissed her. Daxon wanted to haul her over the table and ravish her mouth good and proper. Only because he took into account the fact she’d probably be mortified did he restrain the urge.
“W-would you like that...a-altogether or just as it...c-comes?”
“Just as it comes will be fine, thank you.” Always so polite, Baylee smiled at Marjorie and handed back the menu.
Still looking dazed, Marjorie took the menu, bent to collect the fallen tray, then accepted the pen Daxon still held out to her. Her hand trembled, bless her. She scribbled on the pad unsteadily before turning her attention to him. She looked as though she didn’t want to ask what he wanted to order.
Rather than indulging his wicked side and simply saying “I’ll have what she’s having”—which might have incurred a fatal heart attack if Marjorie’s now ruddy complexion was any indication—Daxon glanced over his own menu, folded it closed and passed it back to Marjorie. “Just the double cheeseburger with fries and onion rings for me, please.”
Wild: Hangman's Haunt Book 1 Page 19
