Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

Lauren's Revenge

"Fly to Kaitlyn's. It's closer." Lauren told Daxter before they left. It should have been a trip that only lasted a few hours.

But no. They were on their third day. Their third day of stopping and starting. Of trying to cross the vast desert when she felt like shit. Of sleeping out in the open with no blankets or tent. And of not having anything to eat, because this was supposed to be a damn short trip.

But it was also their third day of swooping up into the air... only to swoop right back down again. And their third day of trying to find a lake, or stream, or a freaking small babbling brook... so she could wash off the puke. Or Daxter could. Because anytime she could throw up on him, she did.

And it was all her soon-to-be-dead fiancé's fault. She used their developing mental connection for one word. Down .

She didn't project the words to Dax, but she thought them. Again. It was the third time this morning. And an almost constant occurrence since she found out she was pregnant. Since the morning three days ago, when Daxter threw open the door and dashed across the room to Lauren and said, "What's wrong? Why are you still in bed? You look green?"

Then he made his first mistake. He scooped her up in his arms and the motion did what all motion, food, thought of motion, thought of food... or anything else for that matter... now did to her. Lauren had puked all over Daxter. It wasn't the only time, either. She managed to get him at least a few times a day. Although she refused to count it when he was in his dragon form.

The damn man deserved it. For making decisions about her body, without asking her. Or warning her. No—warning her wouldn't be enough. She would still be pissed. He should have asked and not made a unilateral decision that not only affected her, but someone else. She put her hand protectively over her stomach.

Because when she could finally talk on their last morning at his parents' home... when she was trying to figure out why she was so sick... She had looked up at her mate with sweat pouring off her brow—and her stomach ready to revolt again—and demanded to know, "Are you still wearing your sperm inhibitor?"

Son of a bitching, motherfucking, ass-wipe of an asshole dragon.

Once again, she replayed what he told her about male contraceptives when she asked him if she could get pregnant. Actually, she hadn't asked. She'd demanded to know, "Do you have birth control on this planet?"

And he'd been all cute and smiling. Telling her. " Yes . The males are fitted with a sperm inhibitor at the first sign of maturity. It isn't taken off until they marry or form a contractual bond for the reason of having children."

She'd been both impressed and skeptical, saying, "I… don't know what to say to that. How wonderfully responsible? Is it the truth?"

Daxter had told her yes, and then changed the subject to slaves and breeders, probably not having the inhibitor.

Then he'd thrown in, "Do you not want children, Lauren?" He turned the tables on her.

But she'd known what she needed and replied, "Not today. Not until I figure out what the hell I'm doing and if I'm going home or not."

The damn dragon had decided since she knew she was staying here, and that she was marrying him, that HE COULD REMOVE HIS SPERM INHIBITOR.

Without fucking asking her. Without discussing when, or why, and certainly not the what-ifs.

More importantly... he did it without telling Lauren anything about dragon pregnancies and what it might mean for her. Like the fact that she would develop mental telepathy. What the hell else hadn't he told her?

The only thing she could do for revenge - was puke on him. So, she did it every chance she got.