He lowers his head, and the crazed grief abruptly fades away, like he’s made a decision to brutally suppress it.
“My cousin tells me this is the same thing his fated mate told him when he first spoke to her of the danger attendant with giving birth to a drakkon hatchling.”
“Yeah, not surprised to hear that at all,” I answer. “Us Greenwolf girls are some loyal-ass bitches. And when we ride, we don’t die—that’s how the Vikings and gangsters raised us.”
He winces and a bemused feeling ripples over our mate bond. “If that is your crude way of saying you are incredibly loyal and brave, I agree. I wish I had known that from the start. Before I did what I did.”
I shake my head at him, all sorts of pissed.
“Why is your flame burning with irritation.”
“Because you’re so ridiculously hot, and this tortured regret thing you’ve got going is too good a look on you,” I whine.
“Now I am the one who is confused. You do not wish me to lament the things I have done to hurt you?”
“No,” I admit. “Your regret makes it harder not to forgive you.”
Now he shakes his head. “I would never ask for your forgiveness. In truth, I do not deserve it. My only intention in any of this is to repent my transgressions and revere you for the rest of—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, the rest of our lives. Heard it. Got it. Can we fuck now? Because in truth this reformed bad boy act of yours is really turning me on.”
Damianos opens his mouth, probably to make another declaration that will make me feel like throwing my heart at him, like, “Here, take my money!”
But I kiss him before he can get it out.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I kiss him into silence a lot over the next several weeks. Because guess what. Sex Ed Class totally lied. Sex doesn’t complicate things. Sex is easy. And fun. And really fucking hot.
Talking complicates things. I thought he was dangerous before, but as it turns out, he’s way more dangerous when he opens his mouth.
The hungry way he looks at me, even though I’ve got a beach ball in my stomach complicates things.
The warm feelings that floods over my mate bond when we’re doing stupid stuff like watching television or arguing about how many squats I should do or trying to convince ourselves to get out of bed instead of fucking some more in the mornings—God that complicates things. More than I want.
By the third month of the pregnancy, I’m pretty much clinging to my list of grievances from before he turned over this new leaf, looking for any reason, any reason at all not to give into this.
Sure, he’s spectacular in bed. More spectacular than a 15K virgin has any right to be. But it’s not like I would have ever chosen to have sex with him if he hadn’t forcibly arranged for himself to be there when I went into heat. I’ve got to remember that.
The day after I decided that both this baby and me are going to live, I came downstairs to find him at the desk in the receiving room, tapping with two index fingers on Colby’s laptop. When I get closer, I see there a document called up on the screen with the words, “OLA’S FAVORITE DISHES” at the top.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Looking over the recipes the chef at your old Detroit kingdom house gave Colby after I god spoke him.”
“You mean Antonio?” I translated. “You hypnotized my old cook?”
“Yes, how else would Colby know how to keep you in the comfort you deserve as the Queen of Drakkon?” he answered, still scrolling.
I blinked. “I thought all this ‘my queen’ business was about my North Dakota title. You’re trying to make me the queen of dragons, too?”
Finally, he looked up from the screen to answer, “There is no trying, Reverence. You were the queen of our race from the moment you became pregnant with our next ruler. Our son will be the King of both drakkon and wolves, whether our subjects like it or not.”
I hold up my hands. “Wait, the other dragons aren’t on board?”
“It matters not whether they are on board or not. I am their king. They will show you proper respect.”
“That’s, like, the opposite of how wolf royalty operates,” I let him know.
“Yes, I’ve pointed out the design flaws in your species many times before,” he returns.
“Yeah, just like I’ve pointed out you can be an arrogant asshole. Looks like we both need to keep on posting them reminders,” I shoot back. But then I think of Xenon’s top-secret twins and have to ask, “And what if it’s a girl?”
“It’s a boy,” he assured me.
I narrowed my eyes at his too quick answer. “Is this science or a feeling?”