Gifted To The Dragon: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance (The Gifted Series Book 2) (7 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

When the hostess announced to "Commander Grant" that his "late guests" had arrived, he pulled his gaze away from his menu and immediately stood, facing Emma and me. Instantly, his eyes widened, his jaw went slack, and his lightly tanned skin became a bit pale. He looked like he'd just literally seen a ghost, which was how I imagined I looked like as well.

My stomach felt like it had dropped right to the floor, and after not having a touch of morning sickness all day, I now felt distinctly queasy. Slightly dizzy as well. Honestly, I was a little afraid of my knees giving out beneath me.

However, if Emma noticed Desmond and me both looking extremely thrown, she must have thought it was just because we were already very attracted to each other or something, because she didn't skip a beat in introducing us.

"Madison, I'd like to introduce you to Commander Desmond Grant. Commander Grant, please meet Madison Bennett, our newest Gifted."

Both of us were seemingly stunned into silence, Desmond and I just looked at each other. Even though I could feel the gazes of everyone at the table on us, I still couldn't say a word, not even after a very long moment or two.

Now
Emma skipped a beat, clearing her throat in an awkward, prolonged sort of way.

"So, again...Madison Bennett, meet Commander Desmond Grant. Commander Grant, meet Madison Bennett."

Another long moment went by, and I still couldn't speak. Apparently, neither could Desmond.

Emma cleared her throat a second time. "I guess the two of you can shake hands, or say 'pleased to meet you' to each other now or something."

With my queasiness and dizziness increasing, I was just trying to stay on my feet. However, not being pregnant, Desmond was probably having an easier time of things, and he finally spoke, looking into my eyes while looking distinctly uncomfortable, like he'd rather be looking anywhere else.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Please, won't you sit down?"

He gestured to the empty chair directly to the left of his own, and I quickly took a seat, relieved to just have the whole agonizingly awkward ordeal of our "introductions" over. However, I knew that much additional awkwardness was probably still to come.

Emma took an empty seat to my left, making all seats at the table but one now filled, as Desmond had taken his seat as well. The only seat still empty was directly opposite him at the other end of the long table, and I assumed that one would remain empty, because his status as commander probably dictated that no person share a position of authority with him at the table. Like I really had any idea about commander seating protocol. I was just guessing, and feebly at that. I was still a bit too shocked and lightheaded to do any real reasoning or thinking.

After Emma had introduced me to everyone else at the table, everyone else being four shifters and three Gifteds, the shifter directly to Desmond's right began talking to him, something about what kind of steak he was going to order; and Emma leaned a bit toward me and spoke in a very low voice.

"Did I just witness some kind of a 'love at first sight' thing or something?"

Far from it.

"No, but...too long to explain. Later."

"Okay. Really curious to hear what that was all about."

Desmond's friend stopped talking to him pretty much at the same time as Emma had stopped talking to me, so other than the sounds of diners talking and laughing around us, the table was pretty quiet when one of the other Gifteds, a young woman named Brianna, asked if I'd like some wine.

Sitting kitty-corner across from me, she held up a bottle of red with a smile. "We just went ahead and ordered several bottles for the whole table to share. You see, more than a few drops of alcohol is usually consumed at these dinners."

Slowly getting over my shock at discovering that "Commander Grant" was none other than Desmond, I managed to give Brianna a smile.

"Thank you, but no thank you. I think I'm just going to stick to ice water."

Brianna frowned, knitting her light blonde brows. "You don't like wine?"

"Oh, I do. It's just that...well...."

It was just that I was pretty sure this wasn't the time or the place for Desmond to hear my news.

Picking up on my struggle, Emma piped right up.

"She's pregnant."

To my right, Desmond instantly became overcome by a coughing fit, and honestly, it almost sounded like he was choking. I looked and saw that he was holding some amber liquid in a glass, probably whiskey if I remembered correctly what he liked. He'd probably been taking a sip when Emma had said what she had.

The shifter directly to his right, an auburn-haired man that Emma had introduced to me as her friend Eric, poured a glass of water from a carafe and offered it to Desmond, frowning.

"You all right?"

Desmond took the glass and just about drained it in a gulp before setting it on the table with a slight bang.

"I'm fine. Thanks."

He wasn't looking fine. In fact, all color had drained from his face.

My attention was soon diverted away from him by the sound of Brianna saying my name and offering me congratulations.

"I'm really happy for you. I'm not sure why pregnancy didn't cross my mind when you said you're sticking to water. With so many of you new Gifteds coming here being latents, I should have guessed that you're pregnant. But, anyway, how far along are you?"

I stole a peek at Desmond, who was again taking a drink of whiskey at a really bad time.

"Exactly one month."

Again, he began coughing-slash-choking, and again, Eric offered him some water, frowning.

"You coming down with something?"

Desmond didn't respond or take the water, just cleared his throat a few times. "I'm fine."

Just then, a waitress in black pants and starched white blouse came by and asked if everyone was ready to order.

Desmond was the first to respond. "I'll have another whiskey, neat, please. And make it a double this time."

I half-seriously wondered if he was going to avoid taking responsibility for the pregnancy by choking himself to death.

The waitress nodded, closing her order pad. "Yes, Commander Grant. I'll be back with that right away."

The waitress dashed off, mercifully, because Desmond still had maybe a quarter-inch of whiskey left to choke on. The conversation at the table turned to Jake, and how he was doing with his slight ear infection.

I kept my focus on Brianna, Emma, and one of the shifters who was in on the discussion, and I didn't glance over at Desmond even once, not wanting to see him again looking so pale-faced, troubled, and unhappy about my news.

I managed not to look at him until we all placed our dinner orders, and only then accidentally when I looked at the waitress. Desmond was still looking alarmingly pale, with his skin nearly approaching the same shade as his white dress shirt.

He didn't speak much while we all ate, and neither did I. With my nausea having dissipated, my appetite had returned, gluing my focus to the sirloin steak, baked potato, and vegetable medley on my plate.

Desmond, however, after draining his whiskey in two gulps, mostly just picked at his food with a stony gaze cast downward while everyone else talked and laughed around us. Several times, out of the corner of my eye, I caught him giving me little glances, but I didn't return more than one or two, but not just because I was focused on my food.

His color had begun to return, and damn him, but I couldn't help but think of how incredibly attractive he was. Even the way he was chewing the occasional bite of his medium-rare steak, which was hard and forcefully, as if it were leather, highlighted the attractive muscles in his strong, square jaw.

Toward the end of the meal, Emma and a few others had started to give him a few funny looks, probably wondering why he was being so quiet and why his dark brows seemed fixed in a permanent furrow. The group had just been talking about a new monument that had just been built on Michigan Avenue, and Emma cleared her throat, gaze on Desmond.

"And what do
you
think about the new monument, Commander Grant? Do you think the designer was right to feature such a sharp geometric design at the top of the monument?"

Desmond continued cutting his steak with what appeared to be unnecessarily forceful knife movements, not seeming to even have heard Emma. His blue-gray eyes had become decidedly stormy and gray, and he kept them cast downward at his plate.

After a long moment, Emma tried again. "Do you think the designer should have went for a less angular design, Commander Grant?"

Suddenly seeming to register that someone was speaking to him, he finally looked up, setting his knife and fork on his plate with a little clang.

"Emma, how many times have I told you to call me Desmond? Most of us at this table have known each other for years. No need to be so damned formal all the time."

All eyes at the table widened, including my own, I was sure. Even a few diners at nearby tables looked over, clearly surprised and curious about the tone Desmond had just taken with Emma.

With her expression of surprise turning into one of clear hurt, she opened her mouth to say something, but Desmond beat her to it.

"Emma, I sincerely apologize. That was incredibly rude of me. I know some of you that I consider my friends prefer to still address me as Commander Grant as a sign of respect, which is very kind. Again, I apologize for my rudeness. I'm just a little...a bit on edge this evening, I guess. And in fact, I think I'll call it a night. Enjoy the rest of your meal, everyone."

With that, he stood, placed his napkin on the table, and began striding out of the restaurant before anyone could say anything in return.

Once he was out of hearing distance, Eric looked at Emma.

"I hope you didn't take that personally. I really think he's coming down with something. The way he was coughing earlier...he probably really doesn't feel well, but thinks he can't admit it or take a day off because of how active the Angel dragons have been lately. He's probably a bit agitated just trying to soldier through, like he always does."

Emma picked up her fork and knife, nodding. "You're probably right."

We all quietly resumed eating the last of our steaks. Between bites and long drinks of her wine, Brianna began giving me funny little looks beneath her lashes, looks that made me think she was trying to work out some puzzle, and I was an important clue.

When she'd finished her steak, she finally looked at me directly and spoke.

"Have the two of you met before? You and Desmond, I mean."

I'd just put a large bite of baked potato into my mouth, and I was glad, because I didn't know how to respond to her question. And before I could think of a response or even finish chewing, she asked another.

"Did you say that your baby's father is going to be joining you here in Chicago?"

Emma heaved a sigh, setting her wineglass down.

"She didn't say anything about her baby's father. And you know it."

"Well, I'm just curious as to whether...well, whether or not...." Brianna paused for a quick glug of wine before shifting her focus from Emma to me. "So, Madison,
have
you and Desmond met before?"

Emma heaved another sigh. "You don't have to answer that, Madison. Brianna's just being nosy...and rude."

Brianna sputtered, reddening. "Well, I'm sorry, but I'm just curious as to whether-"