Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86059 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
I wasn’t sure at first how I felt about having a child. There’s so many reasons it feels selfish, but Jurik’s enthusiasm fueled mine, and the moment I felt the bloom of life inside me, I knew it was the right decision. I can feel my baby, which is strange and wonderful—it’s a little current of thoughts trickling against my own, occasionally stirring at times and making me crave weird foods…like raw meat.
Luckily, Jurik is the best mate a girl could ever have and sees to all my needs.
I roll over in bed, yawning as my stomach growls. It’s always growling now, as if my body is realizing that we have a dragon that can hunt for fresh meat and see to all my needs, and so now I’m constantly hungry. Ravenous, really.
Gwen tells me it’s the baby—the drakoni side craving fresh meat. I’m sure she’s right. The only person that eats more around here is Gwen. In the month since Jurik and I have mated, her belly has gone from invisible to popped out, and I’m amazed at how fast her pregnancy is increasing.
Amazed…and a little envious, too. I can’t wait to meet my baby. Oh, sure, I know I don’t have to wait long, but I’m impatient. I can’t wait to hold him—or her—close and protect him or her from the world. I want to show them that there’s good and bad in everything, but the good can be so damn good if you let it.
I like your thoughts, my mate sends to me. Hungry?
Starving. I sit up in bed, excited. This morning, I’m not hungry for raw meat but something else. Did you have any luck?
I could not find what you wanted even though I checked many, many places. I can feel the frustration in his mind, and his thoughts flicker through a dozen or more empty stores that he searched through, all in vain.
Oh. I get to my feet, and ignore the surge of nausea that rolls through me. Gwen, the lucky bitch, hasn’t had a bit of morning sickness. Me? I have it morning, noon, and night, which sucks because I want to go flying with Jurik. Instead, I spend half my day in Melina’s clinic, listening to her argue with Azar.
That one. My mate snorts with annoyance. You would think a cruel overlord would somehow not pick a mate that loathes him, and yet here he is.
He’s in love, I point out. Haven’t you seen how he looks at her? The longing looks he gives her?
I only care for the looks he gives my people that he has trapped. Jurik’s thoughts are dark, and I can tell from a mind-touch that he’s sitting atop the car barricade, trying to speak to one of the mind-zombie dragons. It’s no use, though. They’re locked down tight by Azar’s control, and even though we’ve all agreed that it’s a necessary evil for now, I know Jurik wants them free. He brings them food and pushes at their minds constantly, trying to batter at Azar’s control.
Azar has complained about it, too.
Never to me, Jurik says fiercely.
Never to you, I agree as I step into my flip-flops. My feet are swollen today, which sucks. It’s like I’m collecting all the awful side-effects while Gwen’s glowing like a pregnancy ad. Some people have all the luck. Azar wants you happy here.
Let him think I am happy enough. We both know that the moment things are resolved, we are leaving unless he frees them.
He’ll free them, I reassure Jurik. Or he’s going to piss off Gwen and Vaan, too. It’s something we’ve all discussed. We’re working with Azar for now, but the moment the problem in the Rift is solved, he needs to loosen his control on the drakoni he has trapped or we’re going to go to war with him. Right now, the only reason Jurik and Vaan are allowing it at all is because the dragons are “lost” in madness anyhow, and the dragons protect the fort. It’s not a great answer, but it’s what we have for now.
I’m coming to you, I tell Jurik as I head to the door of our room. You on the roof?
Stay there, he tells me. I will join you instead.
I don’t complain. Instead, I sit down in the rocking chair in our “inside” room and relax, my stomach churning. We’ve kept the indoor bedroom because it’s most comfortable for me when I’m feeling ill, but Jurik gets antsy at being closed in. As a compromise, we’ve claimed the rooftop of a nearby building just outside Fort Dallas and set up a little nest there—complete with purloined patio furniture that can withstand the weather—and we camp out there when my stomach isn’t being a jerk.
Not too much longer, baby, I tell my queasy stomach. I gripe, but I really don’t mind the pregnancy issues. They tell me that my baby’s there, and that it’s growing strong, and it won’t be too long until he—or she!—comes out. Yawning, I close my eyes for just a minute.