“She’s my frimar. She belongs to me; I protect her. And right now with every second you string me along old man she is out there, vulnerable and alone.”
That got his attention. The old man frowned and uncrossed his arms. He looked around at the other shapeshifters as if searching for some kind of answer. He seemed to get it.
“She came in here looking for someone to give her a ride. She got a few offers when she said she was looking to get away from you.”
Draven slowly rolled his neck in a circle to release the bunched muscles trying to kill him.
“Who gave her a ride?” he gritted between clenched teeth. She was his! he wanted to scream. He’d slaked her virginity, claimed her with fangs and body. She didn’t get to run away. She’s mine.
“Don’t know if I wanna tell you that,” the man said slowly.
Draven clamped his mouth shut to keep from baring his fangs at the old shapeshifter. Didn’t matter what the race was, the older people got the more stubborn they did too.
He didn’t have time for this. “What do you want from me?” He felt useless, helpless—something he wasn’t accustomed to feeling. And he hated it.
The barkeep cocked a bushy gray eyebrow. “You gonna swear to keep her safe and protect her?”
“Yes,” he hissed.
“Don’t believe you. Hard to trust a vampire.”
Half-vampire, he mentally corrected.
“Aw, come on now Tom. Can’t you see how mad he is for her?” cried a woman in the back. She wore the silly expression of one who’d drunk way too much and would be ecstatic at anything.
“I’m not mad. She is mine and I need to get her back.”
A man leaning both elbows against the bar hollered, “He loves her. Look how desperate he is. We know how that is.” Several approving murmurs sounded.
Draven felt as though he’d just stepped into the Twilight Zone. “I do not love her. She is my frimar. I require her.” The bar erupted in laughter. Everyone except the barkeep who kept a close eye on him.
Draven was smart enough to keep his mouth closed as the crowd quieted down. While inside he was fuming like a steam engine. He had to find her. Had to get her back. He needed her with him. Dammit, she was his. Every second spent with these idiots was precious time lost.
“Alright well I guess I can tell you that she got a ride out the pack. Dunno where to.”
Draven’s fists curled. “By who?”
“Fella named Hank.”
Draven uncurled his fists. She was with another man! His muscles coiled, ready to strike. To strike this Hank. What a human name.
“Where is he?”
“Lives on First Street, third house on the left.” Draven turned to leave.
“Wait a second now. You touch that man and you’ll feel the pack’s wrath, vampire.”
Draven turned back with a flippant smile. “Half-vampire,” he corrected, then raced out the door.
Chapter 29
Willow paced nervously in the bedroom. Six steps to the door, six back to the bed. And repeat.
How did a woman dress for a mating ritual anyways? Lingerie? A freaking wedding gown?
And what was she supposed to wear with her belly showing?
The thought still set forth a barrage of panic inside her. She didn’t know anything about being a mother. Let alone a mother to a half succubus/shapeshifter baby. What was that going to be like half meat-eater/half slut? She still hadn’t talked to him about it. They formed a silent pact around discussing the baby and she was fine with that.
She rubbed at the throbbing in her temples. She caught her reflection in the mirror and rounded on it. It was like looking at someone else. Gone was the ponytail and comfortable hiking clothes and in its place was a white silk nightgown that fell to mid-thigh.
Turning to the side, she pressed her hand to her belly and looked at the small bump there. Her heart constricted in her throat, tears blurred her eyelashes. She blinked fast, her heart racing erratically.
When she looked back up at the mirror, she was smiling softly. Something inside her spoke to her. She’d never really thought about having a baby before. Since she’d never pictured herself really mating with anyone, the thought never even crept up in her psyche. But now...now things were very different. She was pregnant with Lyonis’ baby and there was no undoing it.
Willow didn’t know what surprised her more, that the thought didn’t send her into another panic, or that she actually softened.
She stood straighter and this time saw things different in her reflection. Gone was the lost young woman and in her place was...herself.
“I’m Willow Bellum. I can do anything,” she said.
It was the truth.
She started laughing as she realized how upset she’d been. Over what? A baby? Women had been doing this for a long time, she could handle this. Looking at her belly, her eyes going soft, she thought to her future baby: I’ll be the best mom to you.
She thought about Lyonis. It wasn’t hard to picture him as a father. She’d already seen his generous, kind nature. His protectiveness which might need a little loosening up. But maybe this wasn’t all so bad. Maybe with a father like him then they could both make strong kids, a daughter who wouldn’t lower herself to someone like David. Like she did.
Sometimes you have to take the hand you’re dealt and just play with it.
She heard the front door open downstairs and her heart started racing. He was here!
Running back into the bathroom, she checked her reflection one last time. Her shift was simple but sexy; her hair was down around her shoulders and shining. He still hadn’t told her exactly how the mating ritual would go, but her stomach fluttered at the unknown.
His footsteps sounded on the stairs. Willow stood in the room, panicked. She glanced at the bed, then the door. Did she lay on it and pose or open the door for him and smile all sexily?
As she debated, the door swung open. Lyonis smiled at her, the same smile she’d seen the first day they met. A small lifting at the corner of his right cheek, cocky, and a lot sexy. A handful of bright, yellow sunflowers were in his hand. Willow hesitated, unsure what to do. He came into the room and without any ado, pulled her in for a long, searing kiss.
When he finally released her, she rocked on her feet.
She had to clear her throat before her voice would work. “Erm, flowers?”
His smile turned wicked. “They remind me of you.” He put the vase of sunflowers into her hand. “Strong, tall and proud. Bright with happiness, feminine.”
Willow flushed with pleasure at the compliment. Unnerved by the praise she found herself staring pointedly at the lovely flowers in her hand, unsure what to say or how to say it.
With his lips at her ear he whispered, “And filled with a center I want to eat.”
Willow jerked at his words. Heat flooded through her veins.
“You look...wonderful,” he said, his eyes traveling over her body.
Willow shivered and let him take the flowers from her and set them on the dresser. He came back to her and she launched herself in his arms. If she was going to do this, then she was doing it her way. Laughing, he caught her, swinging her in his arms. He kissed her long and deep before pulling away with a smile that curled her toes.
“I’ve never been happier, Willow.”
She smiled at that and could have done a fist pump. She did that. She made him happy and admittedly, he made her wild...and happy. If she wasn’t careful, she could love this man.
Even as the wild, out of nowhere thought careened into her mind, he carried her to the bed and laid her on it. He followed her down, his hand trailing lazily up and down her arm.