Fire of a Dragon (Fallen Immortals 3) - Paranormal Fairytale Romance (2 page)

“Oh God, yes.
Yes!”
She was folded up in half, a position they wouldn’t be able to use for much longer, as the bump of the baby in her belly was already starting to show. Dragon gestation was accelerated and magical—like everything else
dragon
—and lasted only six weeks. At one week in, she was already showing the way a human pregnancy would halfway through the first trimester. A small rounding of her lovely belly. The barest sign of their love just beginning to manifest in the world. Lucian wanted so much just to hold and kiss her there, right at the soft rise that would become their son, but right now, in this moment, he was busy claiming her, deep and hard and fast.

Her shrieks grew, and she dug her fingers hard into his arms, which were holding him up and angling him just right to take her. When she came, it was a great shuddering release that squeezed down on him in waves. Between the hot pressure, her delicious cries, and the sparking magic between them, his own release rushed at him and seized hold of his body. He went rigid, sunk deep, and pumped more of his seed into her. It seemed to draw out forever, both of them riding the wave and barely holding on.

Holy magic, this woman.

As the wave passed, leaving a high buzz of post-climax pleasure behind, he released her legs and let them fall back to the couch. He stayed hovering over her, holding his weight with an elbow digging into the couch on either side. He was spent—emotionally and sexually—at least for the moment, with no desire to move or be anywhere else. He nuzzled the soft rounding of her belly, peppering it with gentle kisses. He knew all the lovemaking was his dragon nature’s way of making sure the baby had the best chance. Like any dragonling, it was a magical creature carried by a human—a magic-enhanced human, to be sure, but the odds were still against everything going right. Any creature that arose from nothing more than the coupling of its parents was a small miracle, but creating an immortal was more than just a recombination of DNA between egg and sperm cells. Conditions in the mother had to be just right. And for a baby born into the House of Smoke, the requirements were even more extreme.

For a dragon prince, the mother’s love had to be
True
for the sealing to take… and to remain sealed throughout the pregnancy. Arabella had survived the first burn of the sealing, so her love must have been True at that moment, and all the moments since. But there were another five weeks of magical transformation yet to go… and Lucian had given her every reason in the world to doubt him.

“Food.” Arabella breathed the word a half second before the delightful tummy near Lucian’s face rumbled its own protest. “I need food. Then probably more sex. But definitely food first.” She picked up her head and peered down past the perky mounds of her breasts, still sitting at attention from their lovemaking. “You don’t happen to have mint chocolate chip ice cream, do you?”

He smiled. “I could magic some for you, but it wouldn’t be very filling.”

She flopped back down on the couch and spoke to the ceiling two stories above. “Anything you’ve got, then. I could out-eat a linebacker for the Seahawks right now.”

He growled, dropped a kiss on her belly, and rose from the couch. “No mentions of other men in my presence. Even theoretical men and theoretical food. No one is allowed to provide for you besides me.” He gave her a playful scowl as he stepped away from the couch. Her eyes followed him, hungry for more than the food he was hurrying off to retrieve from the kitchen. Ordinarily, that look would stop him in his tracks and bring him back for more magical lovemaking, but
this
—this providing for her, literally bringing her food—was what he
really
wanted to do. It satisfied a deep and urgent need to give her real sustenance, not just pleasure, but something solid. It was trite, he knew that, but his happiness reached a near-giddy level as he rifled through the refrigerator and pantry for a bowl of grapes and some cheese and crackers. He sent a flutter of magic to his phone, texting his right-hand dragon, Cinaed, to pick up some mint chocolate chip ice cream ASAP, along with a host of other groceries. Lucian and Arabella hadn’t left his lair in a week, and with groceries delivered to his door, they could stay in for the entire six-week pregnancy.

Which was exactly what Lucian had planned.

He quickly strode back to her, balancing the food on two hands. Arabella was still flopped out on the couch. He set the items down and bent to scoop her into his arms. Her hands automatically went to his chest, and his cock twitched at the touch. They were both completely naked and had spent most of the week that way—it had begun to feel normal along with the endless rounds of sex.

“Where are we going?” she asked, with a flicked look for the windows, one of her favored lovemaking spots. She liked it when he took her from behind, standing up, pressed against the glass and helpless against the onslaught while the beauty of the forest sprawled below.

But that wasn’t what she needed right now.

“Nowhere.” He curled up on the couch and nestled her into his lap.

Her eyes widened a bit from the sleepy haze the sex had brought over them. He lifted the chilled steel bowl of grapes and plucked one from the stem to feed to her. She took it and closed her eyes in appreciation as she bit into it.

“More,” she said before it was even down.

He plucked another, but she just took the bowl and started devouring. He smiled and ate the grape himself. A dragon mate’s appetite was legendary—the rapid gestation required an almost constant supply of food. Arabella stuffed several more grapes in her mouth, then cradled the bowl to her cheeks and moaned as the coolness of it seeped in.

He frowned. “Are you feeling hot?” A chill ran through his belly as if the cold metal bowl were pressed there. She had survived the first burn of the sealing, but there were so many other points in the gestation that could go wrong... and one of the possible symptoms was a fever. A raging magical fever that couldn’t be stopped and would eventually burn her to ash.

“Well, yeah,” she said, like that should be obvious. “Your Olympic gymnast style sex did heat me up just a little.” She gave him a sly smirk.

He tried to keep his sigh of relief inside. “You have to tell me if it’s too much… if it’s more than you can…” His gaze dropped to her belly, softly rounded, which was serving as a table for the grape bowl now.

“Lucian,
I’m fine.”

He had been asking that very thing a lot throughout the week. So many ways to die… and only one narrow pathway to surviving. But it was no help to tell her, to worry her… the stress alone could do it. He held in the other concerns that were crowding to get out, but that he couldn’t give voice to. Worrying might also bring out her doubts about
him
—the ones she had every right to have. And he couldn’t risk that.

“Is that cheese?” She was peering past her bare knees to the triangle of Cantal and sleeve of crackers on the couch.

He picked up the cheese, shifted one finger into a talon, and sliced open the packaging.

“That’s handy,” she said with a small, teasing smile.

“All the better to feed my lady love.” He gave her a play-scowl, then sliced a chunk of the cheese, married it with a cracker, and fed it to her.

“Oh man, that’s good,” she said around a mouthful.

“It’s aged from the South of France.” His native stomping grounds had been left behind long ago, but his taste for some of the finer foods had never disappeared.

She patted her belly and swallowed before speaking. “Baby approves of fancy cheese food. Wants more.”

He smiled wide and sliced her another chunk. He kept feeding her, and they stayed quiet a moment, skin to skin, primal and wrapped in love. His joy in it would have been complete except for the shadow of fear looming over. He steeled his expression to keep it from showing on his face and just focused on slowly stroking the sealing mark on her back—something he knew kept a steady thrum of pleasure pulsing through her body—and feeding her more when she was ready.

When she had gulped down half the cheese and all of the grapes, she paused for a moment between bites. And peered at him.

He was being too quiet.

“Tell me more about being immortal,” she said conversationally, but there was a sharpness in her eyes. She was probing for something. “No holding back. I’m sealed now, so just give it to me straight.”

“Well, you’re not invincible,” he said, trying to keep the tightness out of his voice. “But you
are
literally bullet proof.”

She held out her hand, palm up. “So I could stop a bullet with my bare hand?”

He placed a slice of cheese in it. “I wouldn’t recommend testing that out,” he said with a scowl. “The bullet won’t penetrate your skin, but a big enough force could take your hand right off.”

“So my skin’s tough.” She popped the cheese in her mouth then examined her hand like she didn’t quite believe him.

He took it and kissed it. “Your hand is lovely and soft and sexy as hell when it’s on my body.”

Her eyes glittered, and he’d happily go for more sex rather than have this discussion.

But she pulled her hand back and pressed on. “So the only thing that can cut me is dragon claws?” She peered intently at him.

He fought against the visions that dredged up.
Cara drenched in blood.
His own talons dipped in it. The sounds when she died trying to give life to their son… he pushed those thoughts away. “Dragon talons and angel blades and a few other kinds of magic you don’t need to worry about.”

“Because you’re going to keep me safe.” And she said it with such certainty that relief gushed through him.

“I’m not leaving your side, Arabella. Not for a moment.” Of that much, he was certain. If only it were just external dangers that she faced.

She nodded like this was a given. “What else?”

He furrowed his brow, wondering what she was after. “You should now have a host of other dragon-like qualities. You’ll have a dragon-sized passion for sex.”

She smirked. “I noticed that.”

He lifted the reddish-tinted brown hair that had fallen forward to conceal one of her breasts. Along the way, he trailed his finger across her skin, and it sparked pleasure. Her eyes half-lidded. “And that sex will be magic enhanced.”

“Noticed that, too,” she breathed, her voice dropping.

He leaned in to kiss her neck and whisper in her ear. “You’ll have enhanced smell. More sensitive touch. Keener vision.” He pulled back and peered into her eyes. “You’ll be able to see through glamour. No immortal will be able to trick your eyes with their magic.”

The incipient lust dropped from her face. “Like Zephan.”

“Like Zephan.” The bastard fae prince of the Winter Court had tried to seduce her by wearing a glamour of Lucian’s skin. But his Arabella hadn’t been fooled, even without the help of seeing through the fae’s glamour. “But he’s not going to bother us anyway. He’s magically sworn not to hurt you, which is stronger even than the treaty. That kind of magic is
binding.
He literally
can’t
touch you or hurt you in any way.”

But Arabella was frowning now.

“I promise, you have nothing to fear from the outside world now, my love.” He studied her face. “Please don’t hold back, Arabella. If you have anything you want to say… any feelings that aren’t quite right…”
Any doubts you have about me…
but he couldn’t say that. “You
must
tell me, my love.”

Her hand went to her belly, cradling it and their son inside, but she just stared at some indefinable spot on the couch, avoiding his gaze. He held his breath, waiting.

Slowly, she brought her gaze up to meet his. Her blazing green eyes were so intense, it felt like they were piercing his soul. “I will
never
doubt my love for you, Lucian.”

Emotion welled up and threatened to choke him. Because he knew that vow was useless—True Love couldn’t be forced or promised. It could only be
True.
And it could be shattered in an instant by any number of doubts for which he had already planted the seeds with no way to root them out.

He couldn’t let any of that show because, above all things, right now and for the next five weeks, he needed to be the kind of man she
could
love. He cupped a hand to her cheek, fighting through the lump in his throat to speak. “I would do anything for you, Arabella Sharp. You and our son. You are everything to me.” It was true, and it was necessary, and he prayed to all that was magic that she could hear the truth of those words.

“Prove it,” she said, sending a flutter of panic icing through his heart. But then she turned in his lap so that she was suddenly straddling his legs. Her hand left her belly and found his cock, grasping it and giving it a good, hard stroke. It instantly came to life, growing hard in her grip. “Show me just how much you love me,” she whispered, stroking him harder and pressing her chest to his face.

He simply growled in return and grasped hold of her hips, pulling her in and down, impaling her on his already rock-hard erection. She gasped and started riding him, sparking pleasure with every bounce. Her head tipped back, and the gasps coming from her were so pleasure-filled, he wondered if she were coming already.

He let her ride, glad to be free of the dangerous zone where she might wonder about his love or the dangers ahead or the insanity that she’d signed up for—
carrying his dragonling.

Sex and food. Food and sex. He could do this, keep her going, keep her alive.

Five more weeks…