Pia Does Hollywood (Elder Races, #8.6)(6)

Slipping a hand between their torsos, he searched for her clitoris again—and as he connected with the tiny peak of flesh, she sucked in a breath, whined and climaxed. The ripples took her over. He could feel her pulsing around him, and that sent him over the edge.

Groaning, he pumped into her, jetting with each thrust. She bit and licked at him, until he lifted his head to take her mouth with his. They fused together, kissing wildly, muscles clenched as the last of the pleasure spiked and then eased on a slow ebb.

When it had passed, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He hugged her tightly, and they rested against each other for a moment until he felt her racing heart begin to slow.

“Okay,” he said, as he rested his mouth in her tousled hair. “Now you can go.”

Bursting out laughing, she smacked his arm. “After you completely destroy me, mess up all my clothes and tangle my hair, you’re going to boot me out?”

He grinned. “Well, I lost track, but I suspect our ten minutes might be up.”

“Ugh, men!” Her hold on his neck loosened, and her thighs eased away from his hips.

Before he let her go, he had to take her chin and tilt her face up for one last hot kiss. Damn, he hated to let her go. “All right,” he said reluctantly against her soft lips. “The half bath is right across the hall, and nobody’s in the front of the house—you make a run for it while I straighten up your clothes. I’ll bring them to you.”

“Okay,” she whispered. She stroked his face. In the shadowed room, her eyes looked dark as midnight and impossibly deep. She smiled at him. “I love you.”

He kissed her again, hard. “Love you too. Get going, before I change my mind and keep you here.”

She lingered to search his face. “You wouldn’t.”

“Damn straight, I would.”

“But all the demesne leaders, and the human administration, agreed on this.”

“Fuck them. Fuck the agreement.” He angled out his jaw. “Nobody tells me what to do, or where to send my family.”

* * *

Oh lord, he was serious.

Only a few moments ago, while they were making love, he had looked so intense, he almost set the air around him on fire, his eyes glowing like gold coins in the darkened office.

Now he looked intense for an entirely different reason, and just as sexy. His dark brows had lowered, and his face had hardened into his most stubborn expression.

Shaking her head, she hopped off the desk. “I don’t have time to argue with you about this,” she told him. “We already decided—it’s not worth antagonizing all the other people we have to live with on this continent over this one thing. You need to save all that obstinacy for times when you really do need to dig in your heels. If you’re going to pick your battles, Dragos, this one isn’t worth fighting.”

He said between his teeth, “I hate decisions by consensus.”

“I know,” she crooned. “You handle it so much better when you can be an absolute dictator, don’t you, honey? It’s been very hard on you since the planet has become so populated, and we’ve all had to learn to get along together sometimes.”

“Well,” he said, his tone truculent. “It has.”

Her shoulders shook. Gods, she adored every inch of his growly, autocratic self. “We’ve put it off long enough. Now I’ve really got to go.”

Reluctance clear in every line of his body, he stepped aside, and she made that dash for the half bath across the hall.

Once inside, she cleaned up, washed her face and hands, and ran her fingers through her tousled hair. A quick rap sounded on the door, then Dragos opened it to slip her clothes inside, and she dressed quickly. She hopped out of the bathroom again in two minutes flat.

He was waiting for her, still glowering, holding her coat in one hand. As she shrugged into it, his arms closed around her tightly in one last hug. For that one moment, she felt entirely enfolded and utterly safe.

Then he let her go, and together they stepped outside.

The rainy snow splattered them as Dragos opened the front passenger door of the Escalade that waited idling at the curb. Inside, Eva lounged in the driver’s seat, looking lazily amused and not at all surprised.

Pia turned to Dragos. Wet drops sprinkled his ink black hair.

“Do you have your next dose of medication?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’ve got it in my purse. I triple-checked.”

“And I have the backup dose, just in case.”

When she had collapsed in D.C., they had found out that she was pregnant. They had also discovered that this would be their last child.

It had to be, as Pia’s body had developed lethal antibodies to fight off carrying Dragos’s children. Sometimes it happened, when two very different kinds of Wyr mated.

Dr. Medina had likened it somewhat to the human Rhesus factor, only unlike humans, who could prevent dangerous sensitization with an injection of Rh immunoglobulin, there was no way to prevent what had happened to Pia.

Once her body had turned that corner, nothing in modern medicine could turn the clock back again. Not even her own magical nature could save her. While she had extraordinary healing Powers, her body had grown to recognize the fetus as an intruder and was fighting to protect itself. She would miscarry any future pregnancies.

She would be able to carry this new, precious peanut to term, but only with the help of the drug protocol that Dr. Medina had developed for her, in the form of a shot she had to take every two weeks.