Shifter’s Baby (Alpha Fantasy Paranormal Billionaire Shifter BBW Romance) (6 page)

He moved forward as he always had, with blinding force. Raild’s mouth covered hers, muffling the screech that came out of her mouth. With both inside of her, she felt she would be ripped in two. Raild kissed her softly, lovingly even as she tried to accommodate them both. She was to have them both many times in the future and by the time the two men had sawed in and out of her to their own completion, Tenia just laid on the ground, dazed and panting.

***

She was barely awake when she was taken high up on a Cliffside in a large nest. She lay between them with the debris sticking in her sides and she rolled closer to the heat of Raild.

“Can one of you guys change back? I bet it would be so much more comfortable.”

There was surprise on Raild’s face, the reality that she truly did accept them as they were, in their true form. It was burdensome to be trapped in such a useless body as a human’s, but necessary for some things. His eyes darkened with the thought, but when he looked over at her, she was near sleep between them.

Raild’s change was fluid, and she immediately turned towards him. He lifted her up and she lay nestled against the heart that she had stolen from him. He ignored his brother’s eyes, but noticed that he too changed back, but she was already asleep against Raild.

“You were right dear brother, she is the one.”

THE END

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Dragonking’s Baby

Dragon Shifter Romance

By: Lisa Cartwright

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Copyright 2015 by (Lisa Cartwright) - All rights reserved.

In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

Arabella was sullied now. A widower left childless and alone on a large tract of land. Her husband Henrick had given his life to help protect their country, Cestrin, and she had nothing left of him other than memories and some old clothes.

“Arabella! Open up!” a woman’s booming voice echoed through the heavy wooden front door.

Arabella was still in bed, awake but unmoving as she watched the iron fastenings on the door rattle while the fat countrywoman from up the road pounded on it. It was the third day she had been by, this time though she hadn’t left after only a few minutes of being ignored. If anything, Arabella’s silence intensified the woman’s need to get her to answer the door.

With a heavy sigh Arabella rose from the bed, her long dark hair knotted and unkempt, and her face dirty with tear stains down her cheeks. The house mirrored her appearance. Dust had started to appear on every surface, the floorboards covered with dirty boot prints from visitors during the funeral a month past.

“Mrs. Gildon,” Arabella sullenly greeted the frustrated visitor.

“Dearie. I’m so glad you finally answered. I just wanted to make sure you were getting by alright,” the plump Mrs. Gildon announced while glancing past Arabella at the forlorn and seemingly abandoned front room.

“I’m fine ma’am,” she answered in a monotone droll, choosing to ignore the look of reproach on her visitors face.

Mrs. Gildon swept back the loose sweaty hairs on her forehead and sidled past Arabella into the room.

“I know you’re still grieving over Henrick, but you can still shed your tears while getting this place back into shape. I know Lord Nelson has been by, looking to acquire your land. He’ll simply take it and have you committed if you don’t get this place into shape. Let me help you dearie, please. I’d be happy to. I know there’s plenty to be done.”

Arabella still felt as if she was in a trance, lost in a bad dream where her life had fallen to pieces and she couldn’t muster the strength to pick up the pieces. But to have Mrs. Gildon sweeping around and helping didn’t feel right. Arabella wasn’t quite ready to be in the presence of anyone else.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll get started today. Go home. I know you’ve plenty to do without helping me with mine.”

Mrs. Gildon had already found the slatted bucket and a dozen rags. The woman cast a frustrated look at Arabella.

“Are you sure dearie? It won’t take any time at all. If anything at least let me go and milk your goats. Their poor teats look as if they’re about to burst. And your cow is lookin’ a tad thin. I could throw some hay and clean out their stalls—“

“No. I said its fine,” Arabella interrupted her suggestions.

The plump woman sighed and set down the cleaning supplies she’d gathered.

“I’ll be back tomorrow. If it still looks a mess, I won’t be asking permission. Lord Nelson wants this land to be farmed by a cluster of serfs and I’ll not be too pleased if I am to live next to a cluster of underfed overworked peasants. I see enough of that travelling to the marketplace.”

Arabella didn’t have a reply for Mrs. Gildon. She watched her rounded figure sidle through the door and down the dirt track that lead a mile up the road to her own farm. The woman meant well enough, Arabella didn’t want her farm to be taken either, but every day that she laid about trying to reign in her numbness Lord Nelson had sent a messenger.

At first asking for her to join him to dine. Another requesting a visit. He wasn’t simply hoping to take her farm; he wanted her hand in marriage as well. She had no desire for either one. The Lord was an older man, rat faced and balding and had his last wife executed on the premise of treason when she’d spread around that he wasn’t well endowed. Lucky for Lord Nelson, the last wife had also had a large parcel of land left to her when her parents mysteriously passed on and her brother had been shipped off to war.

As she stepped from her doorway, out into the sunny yard, she finally saw what Mrs. Gildon had been speaking of. Her animals were out in the pasture, their utters full and bloated, their ribs sticking out from lack of extra feed.

She sighed and tromped towards the small barn that stood near the edge of a wooded area. Immediately the cow, the old mare, and a pair of unmilked nanny goats came trotting towards her as she opened the gate to their pens.

With a grunt of effort she hoisted the milking stool and two large buckets down from a shelf. Before wrangling the goats into place, she remembered that there was still a bag of grain she could feed to the hungry livestock. Thoughtlessly she tromped to the back of the shadowed building to fetch it.

Her mind was so preoccupied with the tasks she now was attempting to accomplish that she didn’t even notice the huddled figure in the corner that stirred as she walked by.

She bent over, reaching for the heavy bag and then was grabbed from behind. A filthy rough hand covered her mouth while a heavily muscled hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her close. Arabella tried to scream, but the huge hand over her mouth muffled the noise.

“Quiet woman. Now listen to me, we’re going to turn around and walk back to your house. If you try to escape, if you fight back, I’ll end you. Don’t test me.”

The small group of livestock had stopped at the barns opening and were watching on, not one hoof passed over the threshold and as the threatening figure steered Arabella around and back towards her house the animals scattered.

She was internally in a panic, her heart was racing and she begun to sweat. It had never crossed her mind that someone could be shacked up in the barn. Her land was so far off from the main road that she rarely got visitors, save for Mrs. Gildon.

Her mind raced over how to get away from the man that had her trapped. She knew that men like him, vagabonds, would do horrid things to her and take what they pleased. It wasn’t an uncommon bit of news for women travelling alone, but she was at home and should have been safe. If only Henrick was here with her.

The thought occurred to her that her captor didn’t know that a man wasn’t here. Or that she really was alone. Perhaps she could bluff her way into scaring him away. It was all she had that or be left to fate until Mrs. Gildon returned the following day. It made her shudder to imagine what could happen between now and then.

“I’m going to move my hand. Make even an attempt to get to the door, and you’ll regret it,” he growled into her ear as they stood in the small entryway with the front door closed behind them.

Bright sunlight was wafting through the small window in her kitchen, gilding the pair with rays of warmth. She felt the man’s rough hand slide away from her mouth and his warm body step away from her. Arabella whirled around in place to face him and was met with a face she didn’t expect.

The mad had a strong jawline; along it was thick unshaved scruff. His dark brown hair touched the topped of his ears. Green glittering eyes watched her. The clothes he wore, although dirty, were finer clothes than she had ever seen. Torn on one side to reveal a bleeding crusted wound on the man’s side.

Her plans to lie were gone as she look at the man’s hardened lips as he waited for her to say something.

“Would you like for me to tend to your wound?”

The man blinked in surprise, whatever it was that he was expecting Arabella to say, it wasn’t that. The look instantly melted away though and he continued his suspicious expression.

“There’s no time for that. Where are we? Do you have any provisions in the house?”

Arabella glanced around. Her food stores were running low, she hadn’t eaten munch since the messenger baring the news of Henrick’s death had come knocking, but she was sure anything that had was in her cupboards had certainly gone bad by now.

“We’re southeast of Cestrin. Follow this road to the main one and then head north. You’ll come to the marketplace. You’re welcome to anything you can find,” Arabella glanced again at the wound along the man’s side, “You’re certain I can’t clean that for you? If you leave it unattended for long, it will fester. I’m Arabella by the way.”

The man went into her small kitchen once she was done speaking and began rifling through what she had, tossing down spoiled items and sniffing at others. She patiently watched, staring at the back of his head.

“What’s your name sir?”

“Eh?” He turned to her for a moment before continuing his search.

“What do they call you?”

“I am Rayzier of Istian.”

Istian. She’d never heard of such a place. He didn’t have an accent, it couldn’t be far. But Arabella had never been much for travelling anyway.

“Can I ask at least how you came to be here Rayzier? Are you in some sort of trouble?”

She stayed put, afraid to approach him in case he lashed out.

“None of your concern. I’ll be gone shortly.”

Rayzier had made a small pile of food on her table. He turned to her, barely seeing Arabella’s face as he looked around.

“Do you have a bag of some sort?”

Before Arabella could point Rayzier to the next room where she kept sacks for potatoes and other tubers, a loud knock came at the door. The pair froze for an instant, listening. A horse whinnied outside.

Rayzier leapt towards Arabella, grabbing her and pulling her towards the back of the house, into her bedroom with the still warm bed she had left.

“Who is it? Who has come to see you? Tell me know or suffer?” he hissed into her ear.

Arabella fidgeted in his arms. “No one that I know of. Stop with the threats. I don’t plan on giving you away.”

His grip only tightened on her. She looked down and was horrorstruck at the sight. Rayzier’s skin seemed to be hardening, his softly tanned skin was etched with what looked like scales and his rounded fingernails were sharpening before her arms.

She let out a surprised gasp.

Another knock sounded at the door. Arabella couldn’t turn to face Rayzier, he held her too tightly.

“Go, answer it. One word from your mouth that reveals me and I will have to kill not only you but your visitors as well. Make it quick.”

He pushed her away from him and towards her front door. She glanced back after saving herself from stumbling. Rayzier looked just as he had in the kitchen, suspicious, mysterious, but entirely human. She chastised herself, realizing it must have been a trick of the light. She watched him place a finger again to his lips, shushing her, and then hid behind the door of her bedroom.

Rat faced Lord Nelson darkened her doorway. Behind him a trio of mounted guards looked bored as they surveyed the scene.

“Madam. I’ve come to call on you for a short a moment. Was wondering if you’d like to make us some tea?”

Arabella blinked in surprise. Lord Nelson had always simply sent a messenger. He must have grown tired of her turning down the requests and come a calling himself.

“Sir,” she bowed her head slightly, “I’m very pleased to see you but I am in the middle of something at the moment. As you can see my home isn’t up for guests at the moment. Maybe another time. Tomorrow perhaps?”

Lord Nelson, like Mrs. Gildon, looked past Arabella into the dim home and saw the state of it. The smirk he wore on his face faltered slightly.

“Quite. Tomorrow you say? Why not come to dine with me later in the evening. The kitchen wench says they’ve gotten a haul of fresh fish in. We’ll dine and discuss the matter of you being here alone with so much to do.”

Her first instinct was to argue with the Lord and tell him to mind his own, but she knew doing so would cause him to shift his plans into something more diabolical than simply seeking dinner with her.

“Yes, yes. I’ll dine with you tonight. An hour before sundown?”

His smirk had returned. “Yes. I’ll see to it than someone comes to fetch you, so that you aren’t traveling the roads alone. I heard there’s been a killing along the main road just the other night. Not a thief it seems because the poor man still had what was to be believed all of his belongings.”

“A sad affair. Have a good day lord.”

She shut the door before the rat faced man could continue his long winded talk. She feared if he kept it up, Rayzier would become inpatient and decide that their death was better than listening to the unpleasant conversation.

Listening, she heard the trotting steps of the horses being ridden away and down the lane. Arabella breathed a sigh of relief as she melted against the closed front door.

Rayzier appeared in front of her, startling her from her momentarily relaxed state.

“You have friends in high places?”

Arabella shook her head. “No, no. He simply wants my farm. We’re far from friends.”

Rayzier grunted and looked around once more. “Why are you alone Arabella?”

It was the first time he’d said her name. It sounded delightful as it escaped his lips. She knew that a lie would be better suited for the situation, but she didn’t want to lie.