Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
LUNA
The last four weeks have been glorious. Marcum is either here every evening, or I’m at his and Xavier’s home at the back of the clubhouse. We haven’t ventured inside with the mass of the main room but I’ve still managed to get to know a few of his men.
We’re currently at Marcum’s since Demi asked for a reprieve from hearing us rolling around in the sheets. According to her, we’re loud and boisterous when we are in bed. With the sheet twisted around me, I lean over and lay my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he sleeps.
Now that my eyes are open, there’s no getting back to sleep. Once I’m up, I’m up. And as if my stomach is on some sort of alarm clock, queasiness strikes. I cup my hand over my mouth and head to his ensuite and drop to my knees in front of his toilet.
“Baby, are you okay?” Marcum drowsily asks as he turns on the faucet and runs a washrag underneath the steady flow of water. “That sounds painful,” he adds as he crouches down behind me, wrapping me up with his arms and legs. He places the cool rag on the back of my neck and wipes away the sweat that’s pebbled there.
“Thank you,” I gag. “I hate this part.”
“I hate it for you. I think when we go to see Dr. Limons, we need to mention this symptom isn’t easing for you, if anything, it’s getting worse.”
“I sent the nurse practitioner a message through the portal yesterday. They’re sending a prescription to the pharmacy and it should be ready for pick up later this afternoon. I couldn’t wait another day; it’s getting harder to hold down water. I don’t want to deal with dehydration on top of everything else.”
“How will we find out if it’s ready?” he probes. I suspect he wants me to have it sooner rather than later.
I’ve been losing weight everywhere but in my belly which is starting to round out. Most days, I subsist on saltines, ginger ale, and the occasional bottle of Gatorade that he forces on me.
“I’ll get a message in my inbox. I haven’t checked it yet this morning since I was preoccupied,” I point out. “Your kid is going to be a ballbuster. I have this feeling he’s going to be a testament to my turning gray earlier than I should.”
“I think you’d be even sexier than you are now with silver entwined with your darker hair,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows at me.
I giggle even though my gut’s still roiling and I have that sickly sweet scent from sweating during my latest purge session. “I need a shower,” I murmur.
Instead of letting me get up on my own, he scoops after unwinding the sheet from around me and heads into the freaking awesome shower he has that takes up almost half of the bathroom itself.
“Let me take care of you, Luna mine,” he whispers into my ear causing me to do a full body shiver.
“Okay, Marcum,” I say, giving in because anytime I can have his hands on me, I’ll take it. Especially since right now, I feel like a wrung out noodle. I mean, there’s absolutely nothing sexy about holding my hair back as I throw up everything I’ve ever eaten or that my ancestors have at this point!
Of course, it will definitely help me when writing a badass alpha, that’s for sure. Marcum, for all his talk of never doing any kind of relationship before, has stepped into the role very, very well. And even the times we stay at his place, he understands that sometimes, the muse strikes and I have to write.
As he holds me under the warm spray jetting out of the showerheads, yes, plural, I allow my mind to drift to my latest binge.
“Luna, what are you doing up?” he asks, his voice rough with sleep.
“New character talking,” I reply, my gaze focused on my laptop screen as my fingers fly over the keys. “Gotta get it down enough so I can pick it back up and flesh it out some more.”
“You have a new story?” he questions, getting out of bed and walking over to his desk, which I’ve kind of taken over, to lean in and kiss my cheek. “Let me get you some ginger ale.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, not lifting my head.
I had a six-book series come to mind so right now; I’m jotting down the relevant notes I need. I’m a hybrid author of sorts; I do a general outline with names and various scenarios, then when I’m writing the actual story, I go by the seat of my pants. So far, it’s worked for me.
“My woman has a dirty mind,” he whispers, setting the cold bottle down next to my hand. He’s apparently reading over my shoulder which has me blushing. “Have you ever tried that?” he asks.
I snicker while shaking my head. “Nope,” I reply, popping my p. Demi hates when I do it and I’m almost sure that eventually, Marcum will as well, but it’s a habit I can’t seem to break.
“Do you want to?” His seductive murmur against the shell of my ear has me leaning against him, desire now coursing through me.
I’m not going to complain, however, because outside of the constant nausea and vomiting which makes me have all-day sickness instead of morning sickness only, I’m enjoying the perks of being pregnant.
“Whatcha thinking about, Luna?” Marcum asks, bringing me out of the memory.
“Last week when we tried that scenario from my book,” I breathlessly answer.
“Speaking of, you promised to show me more so we could test them out,” he reminds me. “We need to make sure all of those positions you mention are doable.”
“They are,” I swear.
“How do you know? Have you tried them?” he asks, his voice now hot with jealousy.
“Not with a live person, no,” I respond. “But I did make sure my body could hold the positions I wrote about instead of being twisted like a pretzel.”
“When you’re feeling better, I want to try out the one where you’re bent over touching your toes,” he admits.
“That would require a lot of trust. I’d need your promise that you won’t drop me,” I taunt, knowing damn good and well that he’s strong enough to hold me upright while he pounds into me from behind.
“I’ll never drop you, Luna mine. And you trust me, don’t you?”
“With my life,” I affirm. “Otherwise, the other night wouldn’t have happened.”
“That is one of the best memories I have,” he confides. “It’s good to know you’re so… bendable.”
“Jerk,” I say, laughing as I smack the back of my hand against the hard, muscular flesh of his abdomen.
“Seriously, woman, I don’t know how you did that.”
I think back on the pose he’s referencing and if we’re being completely honest, I don’t know how I did it either. He had my back flush to the wall, my leg tossed over his shoulder as he pounded inside of me. I was on my tip toes on the opposite leg so that I could meet his height. I ended up with a charley horse in my calf for most of the evening, it cramped up in waves and when it’d show up, Marcum would grab some oil and rub it out.
“What can I say? You’re very helpful when it comes to my research,” I tease. “Plus, with this pregnancy, my hormones are all over the place.”
“Feel free to use me any time, Moon,” he replies.
“That’s good to know. I’ll keep it in mind,” I say as he washes the suds out of my hair and off of my skin.
“Feel better, my Luna?”
“So much better,” I answer, as he turns us around so he can wash himself.
“Do you think you could stomach some breakfast? At least a protein shake?”
“I can try. But the second my stomach starts coiling, I’m done, Marcum.”
“I’d like to get some nutrients in you, I don’t like the dark circles under your eyes. I’m halfway tempted to take you to the emergency room, woman.”
“No. I don’t want to sit up there for endless hours. Please don’t make me go, Marcum.”
“Then maybe we should call Dr. Limons’s receptionist and see if they can fit you in today. I don’t want to wait until tomorrow. We both know a day can make a difference.”
“I’ll call once I’m dried off and dressed. Will that satisfy your neanderthal instincts?
“I know you think I’m being overly cautious, Luna, but the book I’ve been reading says dehydration can be very serious.”
My heart warms at his words.
While I’d never say he was unintelligent because he’s by far one of the smartest men I’ve ever met—his vocabulary has proven that, the fact that he downloaded an app on his phone then bought a book about what to expect while pregnant has endeared him to me so much it’s not funny.