Chapter 15 #2
Everything stops. The ocean. The wind. My own heartbeat. Reality narrows to three words that can't be true because dragons don't— because my line ended— because Mikhail made sure—
My mind goes blank. Reboots. Tries to process information that rewrites everything I believed about my future.
Pregnant. With my child. Continuing a bloodline I spent centuries convinced died with Saoirse.
The possibility hits like dragon fire to the chest. Burning. Brutal. Beautiful.
"You're certain." The words scrape out of me. Not a question. A demand for data because I need her scientist brain to make this real.
"Not certain. Not yet." She's cataloging symptoms the way she catalogs everything, but her voice shakes.
"But the signs are there. Increased metabolic demands.
Heightened olfactory sensitivity. Hormonal changes I can feel.
" Her hands flatten harder against my chest, anchoring herself.
"The transformation rewrote my biology. Dragon DNA. Accelerated fertility. It hasn’t been long, but the symptoms suggest pregnancy. "
I process what she's saying—not confirmation, but strong probability based on observable data. My mate. My dragon. Possibly carrying the child that will prove Mikhail failed. That my line survives. That everything he tried to destroy continues.
The weight of it staggers me. Centuries of solitude. Of hunting the phoenix who murdered my mate and burned any chance of family to ash. Of believing I was the last. The end of something ancient and irreplaceable.
And now this.
Her scientist brain is working through variables, words spilling out like she needs to explain the impossible into existence.
"The claiming was intense. The bond formation, the magical integration.
My body was still adjusting to the transformation when we.
.." She trails off. "Variables I didn't account for. "
I watch her face. The way hope and terror war in her expression. The way her hand drifts unconsciously to her belly before she catches herself. The way she's looking at me like she needs me to tell her this is real.
My dragon roars. Possessive. Protective. Mine and ours and everything Mikhail tried to take blazing back to life.
I pull her against me hard enough to hurt. She gasps but doesn't pull away. My hand finds her belly, pressing flat against the place where our child might be growing. Where my line might be rebuilding itself cell by cell.
"If you're pregnant." My voice comes out rough. Raw. "If you're carrying my child." I press my forehead against hers, letting her feel everything I can't articulate. The centuries of loss. The sudden savage hope. "Then Mikhail didn't win. He tried to end my bloodline and instead—"
"Instead it continues." She finishes the thought. Her hands frame my face. "But Finn, I need to verify. I need certainty. I can't just assume—"
"Your instincts are dragon now." I cut her off. "You feel it. Here." My hand presses harder against her belly. "Don't you."
She nods. Small movement. "Yes."
First dragon born in generations.
The possibility hits like a physical blow. Mikhail spent centuries trying to destroy my line. Killed Saoirse. Hunted me. Built an empire on the bones of supernatural creatures he enslaved and experimented on.
And here I stand with my mate telling me she might be pregnant with the child that will continue everything he tried to end.
My line. Rebuilt.
"How do we confirm?" The question comes out rougher than intended.
"I don't know." Frustration bleeds through the bond. "There's no established medical protocol for dragon pregnancy. No tests. No baseline data." She looks up at me. "I need to verify before I state it as fact. But Finn, every instinct I have says yes."
Dragon instinct layered over scientific training. She's learned to trust both.
"When will you know?"
"Soon. Days, maybe. The symptoms will either intensify or disappear." Her hand moves to her belly. Unconscious gesture. "I'll document everything. Build a knowledge base. Future dragons will need this information."
Already thinking ahead. Planning for a future that includes our child.
Hope. Fear. Fierce protectiveness that mirrors mine.
I pull her against me. Hard. My arms band around her and she fits exactly right, head tucked under my chin, her curves pressed to muscle that trembles with the force of what I'm feeling.
Mine. Ours. Maybe.
"We need a bigger cave." The words scrape out rough.
Lila laughs against my chest. The sound vibrates through our bond, joy mixing with uncertainty. "You're already planning real estate?"
"Practical concerns." I force my arms to loosen enough that I can look at her. "If you're pregnant, we'll need space. Protection. Somewhere we can raise a child who might shift between forms."
"If I'm pregnant." She emphasizes the uncertainty. "I won't know for certain until—"
I kiss her. Cut off the scientific qualification with my mouth on hers, claiming and possessive and full of everything I can't articulate. She kisses back with equal force, her hands fisting in my hair, her body arching into mine.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"Inside." My voice comes out graveled. "Now."
Her pupils dilate. Heat floods the bond. "Demanding."
"Always." I step back, putting distance between us before I take her right here on the cliffs. "And you're possibly pregnant with our child. I'm not rutting you on cold stone."
"Romantic."
"Practical." I catch her hand, lace our fingers together. "Cave has a bed. Better location."
The walk back is torture. Every step grinds my cock against denim that's suddenly too tight. The urge to shift burns through me—to fly us both there in seconds, to get her somewhere private where I can have what's mine.
But Lila's still building endurance in her dragon form. The transformation still demands energy she's learning to budget. And pregnancy is already making demands on her body.
So I walk. And burn. And let anticipation build until it's a physical ache in my chest.
The cave entrance looms ahead. Dark stone framing darker interior, the pathway worn smooth by centuries of my passage. The scent of salt water and minerals wraps around us as we descend into dimness that gives way to the bioluminescent algae glow.
Home.
Lila's already stripping out of her clothes with efficient movements. No seduction in it. Just need cutting through pretense.
I match her. Boots. Shirt. Jeans. Everything hitting stone until we're both naked in the blue-green glow.
She's magnificent—hair loose around her shoulders, skin pale in the algae light. Her breasts are fuller now, nipples darker pink, and I file that detail away as evidence. The curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, the slick evidence of arousal already glistening between her thighs.
All mine.
I move. Cross the space between us in two strides and pull her against me. Skin to skin. Her gasp vibrates through our bond.
"Finn—"
"Mine." My mouth finds her throat. The claiming mark is healed but the memory stays. "My mate. My dragon."
Her hands grip my shoulders. Nails biting in. "Yes."
She is not fragile. Not weak. She's dragon.
But she might be carrying our child and I will be careful even as every instinct screams to claim and mark and possess.
I kiss her. Slow and deep and thorough. Tasting every inch of her mouth. Learning the sounds she makes when I touch her right. Her hands in my hair, pulling, demanding more.
When I finally break the kiss to breathe, she's panting. "If you go soft on me—"
"Not soft." I rock against her, letting her feel exactly how not soft I am. "Controlled."
"I don't want controlled."
"You want me to rut you until you scream?"
"Yes." No hesitation.
My dragon roars approval. "Then you'll get exactly what you want."
I work my way down her body. Mouth and teeth and tongue learning every curve, every sensitive spot that makes her gasp or arch or moan. I pay attention to both her breasts until she's writhing beneath me.
"Stay still." I keep working her nipples, watching her face. "I'm going to taste every inch of you first."
She gasps when I pinch harder. Her hands find my shoulders, nails digging in, and I feel what she's feeling—pleasure spiking sharp from sensitized tissue, the ache building low in her belly, the wet heat between her legs demanding attention.
I lift her. She wraps her legs around my waist with dragon strength, and the head of my cock slides through her slick folds. The sensation punches through both of us—her gasp, my groan, everything amplified until I can't tell where my pleasure ends and hers begins.
I walk us to the bed, lower us both down with her underneath me and ease out of her.
"Finn—please—"
"Patience."
I continue tasting, teasing. Kiss the soft skin of her belly where our child could be growing. The possibility cuts through lust. Sacred and primal tangled together.
Then I keep going.
Her thighs fall open as my shoulders wedge between them. The scent of her arousal makes my mouth water. I pause there, breathing her in, letting anticipation build until she's trembling.
"Finn—"
I taste her. A long slow lick that has her hips bucking off the bed. I pin her down with one hand spread across her lower belly and feast.
She tastes perfect. Sweet and salt and pure need. I use everything I've learned about her body over our time together. Tongue and lips and careful teeth working her higher until she's making sounds that echo off cave walls.
I seal my lips around her clit and suck. Her entire body goes rigid. Lightning strikes through her—pleasure so intense it borders on pain, the desperate need for more. I suck harder, flick my tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves, and she screams.
"That's it." I don't let up. "Come on my tongue so I know exactly how sweet you taste before I fuck you."
I slide two fingers inside her while I suck her clit—tight, wet, scorching hot. I curl my fingers, find that spot inside her, and press hard.