Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

O kay, on the plus side? There was electricity at his brother's place.

Plumbing.

The periodic hint of Wi-Fi.

Also his brother was not here to be all judgey and grumpy.

All good things.

On the negative? No Starbucks. No food delivery. There was dust everywhere, and he was sort of sure a groundhog was living in the basement while squirrels and chipmunks frolicked in the attic.

The family home was decorated in sort of medieval slash Neolithic slash 1970s love pad. Well, it had a certain charm. It sure wasn't Santa Fe.

Honestly. He was going to have to deal with this. If nothing else, the avocado-green refrigerator had to go.

He was fairly sure that the '70s vibe was from his brother; after all, the shag carpet was rife in his little wing of the house. It was unreasonable.

Morgan wasn't sure where his brother had gone. Max never left—when he'd wandered off to New Mexico, and Marcus had fucked off to Scotland or Sydney or Portland or wherever, Max had just waved, green smoke surrounding him like a full-body halo, and said he'd keep things held down here.

There was something kind of disappointing about the fact that he wasn't here. Max was older. Way more easygoing, and the sort of guy you wanted in your back pocket in an emergency.

"And this is an emergency, dammit!" The sound of his own voice surprised him. "This is a fucking emergency. And why aren't you here? You're supposed to be my family. You're supposed to be here and tell me that I can have this baby, and you'll help me!"

Was he whining?

He was about one hundred percent sure he was whining. He hated whiners.

He was a mature, successful, fully formed dragon. He could have a baby and raise it, and fuck the world.

It sounded so much braver and less stupid if he didn't say it out loud.

Because really, what he was, was worried and scared and in desperate need of a hug.

Or a cookie.

He would fucking murder for a peanut butter cookie with one of those chocolate things on top. Maybe dipped in chocolate? Peanut butter dipped in chocolate. In cookie form.

He needed this in his life.

And this goddamn place did not have any food delivery.

He was going to starve to death.

Maybe he should hire a man Friday—someone whose entire job was to go and get him things that he desired without question. Just go down the mountain, retrieve for me a single perfect grape. And deliver it on a silver platter. Peeled.

Okay, this was kind of fun.

Morgan grinned at himself and flopped down on the sofa that was possibly carved from a mammoth and covered in velvet pillows. God help him.

He had to admit, as much as he loved his condo, this weird, wonderful place was really it.

When he wanted to go home, this was the place.

So he would just stay here for a while, then he would think about looking for Max. Maybe he'd see if Max had left a note. Who knew with him. Sometimes he did, when he wanted to go spelunking in the nearby caves.

But Morgan really needed some help. Maybe he would call in—No, he probably wouldn't. He kept thinking that he would call in old friends or his other brother Marcus, but really? He would just go it alone. He had books, right? That was good enough.

His belly rumbled, and Morgan rolled over, trying to think about what he was going to eat because really, now he was obsessed with that whole cookie idea. Instead of getting up and going to get food out of the refrigerator of doom, he just decided to take a nap. Once he woke up, maybe things would look better.

When he awakened, the shadows had shifted on the floor, and it was getting near dark. He really needed to close up the house and figure out what to do about food.

God he was such a messed-up dragon. But he was eating for two, so he needed to get that food thing done. Morgan got up and wandered to the kitchen. He did have peanut butter and bread. No chocolate. Why hadn't he brought Nutella?

Maybe he would just lay down and cry.

Why weren't dragon tears made of chocolate?

It wasn't fair. After all vampires made tears into diamonds in those stupid movies.

Although everybody knew those weren't true. Vampires weren't sexy, because they'd never made anything but trouble with all those teeth and the blood and the biting and the?—

Why was he thinking about vampires?

He didn't need to think about vampires. Surely vampires couldn't find him up here, right? Even though he was alone and pregnant.

He was totally thinking about vampires.

With his luck, thinking about vampires would draw vampires, and he was alone, and he was pregnant.

Maybe he needed to go out and gather wood and get some sticks so that he could carve stakes.

Maybe Max had stakes.

Mmm…steak. No, focus.

Why wouldn't Max have stakes? This is a godforsaken place. Maybe they were in the basement. The stakes, not the vampires. What if there were vampires in the basement?

He really needed a goddamn cookie, especially if he was going to have the energy to fight vampires. He was not going to allow any vampire at his baby. They'd have to go right through him.

Oh wait.

He gagged a little bit.

Yeah, no vampires.

Suddenly, he heard a rattling at the door, and he stopped still, a low growling starting immediately.

Oh no. No vampires.

He sucked in a deep breath, gathering all of the ice that lived inside him.

He might be a big fucking dork, but he was a big fucking dork that was going to defend this baby with everything he had.

"You'd better hope you're bringing cookies, or I'm going to turn your fangy ass into an iceberg," he bellowed.

"I certainly hope not. It would be a total waste of my ass." The door opened, and while it wasn't a vampire standing there, the person in the doorway still made his mouth fall open.

"Wade?"

"Hey, you. You led me on quite a chase, I have to say." Wade strode into the house, closing the door behind him, dark auburn hair like a flame around him, black eyes blazing. "So who were you threatening to freezify?"

"A vampire. At least they would have had to be invited."

"Vampires?" Wade scowled, glancing around. "You have vampires up here?"

"Not that I know of, no." He crossed his arms over his belly, trying to hide it. "What are you doing up here, Wade?"

"I came up here looking for you. You sold your condo. What the hell was up with that?"

He squinted at Wade. "You knew about my condo?"

That strong jaw went tight. "Imagine my shock when I showed up to see you, and you'd sold it."

"Why did you show up?" Wade had been looking for him? Why?

"My neck was hurting." Wade rubbed said neck with one hand.

Oh, he'd heard that tale for a very long time, about how if Wade's back or neck hurt or itched it meant something big was coming.

He supposed a baby was something big, not that he intended to talk to Wade about that at all. Nope. Not even a little.

Wade tilted his head, nose working hard. "You smell different."

"I've been working hard." Had Wade just suggested that Morgan smelled bad? Asshole. "It's a lot of effort to get things put just the way I like them." And this house was…whoa.

He moved to stand behind the sofa. Maybe if he just kept himself on the other side of any piece of furniture until Wade left, he'd be safe.

That was a fabulous idea.

Stay behind any available piece of furniture. Except that Wade was an exceptional hunter.

He was so fucked.

"Have you tried Tylenol? For your neck, I mean."

"No. No, I just came looking for you." Wade started to circle the sofa to the left.

Which meant he went to the right.

Wade scowled, changing directions.

So he backed up, turning off a floor lamp as he did so he could hide in the shadows some. "I'm surprised you found me. It's pretty secluded up here."

"It is. That was why I found you. I mean, the house has been vacant for a bit, I think."

He chewed his lower lip. How long had Max been gone? Goddess. That worried him.

"Will you hold still!" Wade lunged for him.

He scrambled out of the way, sliding out from behind the sofa and heading for the big Neolithic throne.

"What is wrong with you?" Wade snapped.

"I'm just not in the mood." Which was, in fact, a lie. The scent of Wade, his very presence, was making Morgan horny as hell. He was getting wet just being in the same room with the big lug. "I'm tired. I've been busy. You said I smelled bad, remember?"

He was aching—top to bottom—and he wanted nothing more than for Wade to hold him and tell him it was going to be okay.

"No. I said you smelled different." Wade stopped, staring at him, nose working again. "I mean, you smell great. Just different. Don't you want to come say hi?"

He nodded. More than just about anything, but he was having a baby, and… He just wanted to cry.

"Then come here, baby." Wade opened his arms, and Morgan couldn't resist. He ducked into them, his breath hitching. "Aw, what is it, baby?" Wade patted his back, then rubbed up and down, soothing him. "Why did you run off?"

"I had to. I didn't have a choice."

Simple as that. He didn't have a choice.