Gifted To The Dragon: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance (The Gifted Series Book 2) (9 page)

"Well, if Eric seems like he might be receptive, why not?"

Gazing on her Styrofoam container, Emma began picking at the remainder of her food, separating the chicken from the rice.

"Well...he may flirt with me a little, but I know deep down that Eric would probably never want me for any kind of a serious romantic relationship."

"Why not?"

"Well, just for starters, although Eric is great with Jake, I'm not sure if he'd be too keen on the idea of raising another man's child full-time, especially since he has no kids of his own yet; so I'd be the only one bringing a non-biological child of the other person into the relationship. Eric's also never been married, and I have, and I loved my husband deeply and always will, and Eric knows that.

“And I know that might make some men very uncomfortable, or jealous in a strange way, like they're competing with a ghost or something."

With her warm brown eyes holding a lot of pain, Emma paused to poke at her chicken some more, then finally set her fork down and closed the container.

"Basically, Eric is an incredibly handsome dragon shifter who could have any woman he wants. He could easily find a woman with no child, and no deceased husband, and that's probably who he
should
find and who he really
wants
to find. Sometimes I even think Eric is only friends with me and checks in on me and Jake so often because he feels sorry for me being a widow and having a child with health problems."

"I'm sure that's not true."

Looking out at the Frisbee-players in the distance, Emma lifted her slender shoulders in a shrug.

"I guess I just don't want to ruin our friendship to find out. Oh, and not to mention that with Eric being Desmond's top lieutenant, and kind of in the public eye, I'm sure he'd never want a complete failure of a Gifted as a long-term girlfriend or wife. Common sense just tells me that. Successful people want to be matched with other successful people."

"But you
are
successful."

"At what? I wasn't successful at college, then I wasn't successful at being a secretary, and now I'm definitely not successful at being a Gifted."

"Well, I think you're pretty successful at being a wonderful mom to Jake."

Emma cracked a smile. "Well, maybe. I hope I am. And, really, that's the most important thing to me...that I be a good mom."

I smiled back. "Well, you're doing it. So, hold your head up high."

Not a split-second after I said that, one of the Frisbee players yelled "Heads up!" Emma and I ducked just in time to have a wildly-thrown Frisbee sail right over our heads.

Suppressing laughter, I turned my face to look at her.

"Or keep your head down to avoid being knocked out by a Frisbee. Whatever."

Later that day, we picked Jake up from the childcare center, where he'd been happily playing with several other babies his age, and took him to a kid's carnival at a different park several blocks away from the tower.

There, he enjoyed his first pony ride with Emma slowly walking along with the old pony, holding Jake sidesaddle because of his non-bendable leg braces. Jake giggled and clapped and tangled his fingers in the pony's thick mane, and Emma smiled and laughed and periodically planted kisses on his chubby, dimpled cheeks.

With my heart swelling, I watched the scene, thinking about how much joy I was going to experience with my own baby. No matter if Desmond ultimately wanted to share in that joy or not.

Late that evening, I was standing out on my bedroom balcony with a mug of herbal tea, looking out onto the twinkling city lights below and the cloudy night sky above when I spotted a few dozen dark shapes moving across the clouds.

At first absolutely perplexed and even a bit frightened, I watched the quickly-moving shapes for a few moments as they got a little closer. It was then that I saw that each shape had wings, a thick body, and a long tail. Dragons. One of them was several lengths ahead of everyone else, seeming to be leading them in, and I assumed this dragon was Desmond.

With a flash of something like irritation but with an ache in my chest at the same time, I watched him until he disappeared above the tower, surely about to land somewhere and then go on up to his penthouse for some badly-needed sleep.

After sleeping so poorly the night before, I myself was in need of some good sleep, but again, I just tossed and turned that night. It was around two in the morning before I finally managed a decently long stretch of slumber before waking up again around four after having some vague dream about Desmond.

The next day, Emma took me to the Gifteds' training facility, which was located in a building just a few down from the tower. With extremely high ceilings and a vast, open main floor space, the facility honestly reminded me of a gymnastics center, minus the bars and beams. The flooring was even made of some padded, springy material that gave it a feel similar to a spring floor. Also, there was a viewing gallery type place on one side of the main floor where people not participating could sit and watch, similar to a gymnastics gym. It was there that Emma parked herself and told me she'd watch and wait for me.

"Brianna will be here soon, and she'll tell you what to do."

Brianna did arrive soon, along with Courtney and at least a dozen other Gifteds, many of whom looked me over silently and intently, as if very curious about their fellow Gifted who was having their commander's baby. As I'd suspected it would, word about my pregnancy and the identity of my baby's father had traveled fast, and ever since, I'd been getting similar sorts of intense, curious looks wherever I went in the tower.

Emma had said they were "looks of envy," but I was just glad that so far, I hadn't been the target of any outright hostility. Emma told me that before I'd arrived, women trying to win Desmond had been "something like a national sport, if Chicago were a nation," and that news of my pregnancy had left a lot of women very disappointed. Additionally, she'd asked me if I hadn't noticed all the women "looking longingly" at him in the restaurant the night of my news, but I really hadn't. I'd been far too preoccupied with other matters.

After introducing me to all the other members of this particular "team" of Gifteds, Brianna told me the basic rules of the training "game," winding her long, pale blonde hair into a messy bun at the top of her head while she did so.

"So, basically, a few of us are going to be in full, heavily-padded, rubberized suits, including me, and it's us who are going to be playing the part of Angels-slash-Angel-dragons. The rest of you guys will be zapping and levitating, per your individual gifts, just as if this were an actual fight. You, Madison, will be trying to zap me and the other 'Angels,' but it won't hurt us, because of our suits.

“We 'Angels' aren't able to move very fast in these extraordinarily cumbersome and kind-of-annoying suits, but we'll be trying to get away anyway, while zapping back at you Gifteds just like real Angels will try to do.

“We won't
actually
be zapping you guys, though; we'll be aiming many feet above your heads. Although if you
do
ever accidentally get zapped, because it
does
sometimes happen, don't worry. It hurts, but keep in mind that a person has to be zapped a dozen or so times, in quick succession, in order for it to seriously injure or kill them.

“Also, sidebar, several pregnant Gifteds have been accidentally zapped over the past couple of years, and their babies were perfectly healthy, including my own daughter; so, don't worry about
that
if you
do
ever accidentally get zapped. Anyway, meanwhile during this whole 'game,' the levitators will be doing their thing, too, against us 'Angels' while you zappers are zapping.

“It all really is just kind of like a game once you get into it, and you'll learn as you go, and you might even have some fun while practicing how to fight real Angels and Angel dragons."

Soon I
was
having fun while trying to get into the swing of things with the other "zapper" Gifteds. The whole thing was honestly kind of like a game of laser tag, and it ignited the competitive drive I'd developed while competing in gymnastics. I also liked how the "game" required physical skills similar to the ones required by gymnastics, like speed, agility, and stamina. After an hour or so of the "game," I was sweating buckets and loving every second of it.

I did, however, periodically experience a little pang every time I glanced over at Emma, who was scrolling through her phone in the seating area, looking more than a bit glum. I resolved that sometime soon I'd talk to her about the "mental block" Eric thought she had about using her Gifted skill and see if I couldn't try to help her work through it somehow.

That evening, I intended to go see Desmond and have a talk with him, but I ended up being so exhausted from Gifted practice and unpacking some moving boxes that I crashed out on my bed at eight and slept until six the following morning, finally getting the good night's rest I needed.

After showering, dressing, and having breakfast, I took the elevator up to the ninetieth floor, hoping that Desmond hadn't already left to lead his men on a morning patrol around the outskirts of the city, as Emma had told me he usually did. We were long overdue to have a few words.

CHAPTER NINE

  Up at Desmond's penthouse door, it was a repeat of the night we'd had dinner. He wasn't home, or if he was, he wasn't answering the door. Either way, I eventually gave up, went back down to my apartment, and texted Emma, asking her if she had Desmond's phone number, and if so, if she'd give it to me. She sent me his number right away, and then I hesitated, wondering what exactly I should say and how I should say it.

After being interrupted by a load of laundry in the dryer being done, requiring folding before everything got wrinkled, I ended up typing out a simple, brief message, which read
Desmond, I'd like to speak to you as soon as possible. Thanks. Madison
. But before I could hit
send
, there was a knock at my apartment door. And somehow, I didn't even need to look through the peephole to know who it was.

When I opened the door, Desmond was standing there dressed in boots, jeans, and a black t-shirt, looking as insanely attractive as ever, maybe even more so because of sunlight flooding the hallway giving his lightly tanned skin even more of a glow.

"Hello, Madison."

"Hello."

"May I come in?"

"Yes."

I stepped aside to let him enter, then closed the door, and began leading him through the foyer to the living room. "Mind if we sit and talk?"

"That's fine."

Something about the way we were both being so calm and civil made me think that our talk was either going to go really well or really poorly.

Once we reached the sun-drenched living room, we both sat down at opposite ends of a fairly long cream-colored sofa. I didn't think either of us had necessarily planned to sit so far apart; it had just kind of happened.
No great surprise
, I thought, that a wide gulf on a sofa should mirror the wide gulf between us on an emotional level.

With his elbows on his knees, facing forward, but with his face turned to look at me, Desmond spoke first.

"So, how's your grandmother?"

I nearly roared with laughter, instead biting back a scoff.

"Oh, don't you dare...don't you even dare even act like you give a damn. You obviously don't care about me, since you slept with me and then bolted without even so much as a 'bye,' so don't you dare even act like you care how my grandma is doing."

If he
had
really cared, I would have told him that I'd called Eloise the day before and she'd reported that my grandma had been enjoying a string of really great days, which had thrilled me.

After I'd said what I had, Desmond just turned his gaze forward, exhaling slowly, and didn't turn his face to look at me again for a long moment or two.

"So, you...you weren't on any kind of birth control the night...." Pausing, he raked a hand through his thick, dark hair. "The night we...."

"No. Which, yes, should have made me stop to think before we became intimate, but as fast as everything happened, I guess I just...."

Now
I
got the urge to rake a hand through my hair, but I resisted.

"Anyway, I should point out that at no point did you ever ask me if I was on birth control or if we might need any additional form of protection."

Desmond nodded. "I know. I realize that. I was very caught up in the moment as well. We're both to blame for this mess."

Instantly wounded, I couldn't speak right away.

"Is my baby...is my baby just a 'mess' to you, Desmond? Is that how you really feel? That my baby is just a ‘mess?’”

"No. I just meant that this whole disaster in general-"

"Oh, now my baby is a 'disaster' to you, too?"

Heaving a sigh, Desmond got up from the couch and began pacing around on a massive maroon-and-cream oriental rug in front of it.

"Look, Madison. I'm not saying that the baby itself is a 'mess' and a 'disaster'-"

"Well, it sounds like you are, and you may as well be. It sounds like you don't want to have anything to do with the baby. It sounds like you have no interest in being a parent at all."

"Well, you're right about that. I don't."

I felt as if I'd been slapped.

"I'll pay you support, and I'll pay to help you relocate shortly before the baby's born. Or even right now, if that might be easier for you. Whatever you want. I'll also pay for all costs associated with the baby's birth, and I'll even pay whatever other bills you need me to, at any time, indefinitely. But other than that-"

"You really want nothing to do with your own child?"

"I really don't."

"Desmond, please stop pacing. Look me in the eye and say that. Look me in the eye and say that you really want nothing to do with your own child."

Raking a hand through his hair again, he didn't stop pacing and instead, only seemed to accelerate his pace.

"Look. You're making this a lot harder than it has to be."

"Will you at least tell me one thing? Why didn't you at least say goodbye before you left? Were you that dissatisfied by me? I only ask this because I thought we had some sort of a real connection that night. I had the feeling that you were a good guy."

"I'm not a good guy. I left because I'd gotten what I wanted."

Tears immediately sprang to my eyes, and I didn't know what to respond right away. But after a moment or two went by with my eyes continuing to fill, I realized I had to say something just to be done with our talk and get Desmond out of my apartment, because I didn't want him to see me cry. Something about that seemed as if it would be a defeat of some kind, or a lowering of myself.

Hoping to display the same stoicism that Desmond was displaying, I did my best to hold my chin up while I spoke.

"All right, then. Fair enough. I at least appreciate your honesty in answering my question. And I guess you can just go ahead and leave now, unless you have anything more to add."

Despite my best efforts to keep my voice steady, I'd spoken with a clear tremor present as a result of suppressed pain and tears, and now Desmond finally stopped pacing and looked at me. And to my astonishment, his own eyes were radiating pain.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say what I did so harshly, but...it's the truth."

"Well, you don't need to harp on it. So, you slept with me and took off because you'd gotten what you wanted. So what. I'm a big girl. I can handle that."

A tear now rolling down my cheek said I couldn't, and I swatted it away, irritated.

"And like I said, you can just go ahead and leave now, unless you want to say something else about how you just used me and ran...or something else about how you don't care at all about the baby and want no part in its life."

"I never said I don't care about the baby."

"You're kidding. You're absolutely kidding me, Desmond. You told me that you don't want to have anything to do with the baby, and you have no interest in being a parent, but now you're implying that you actually care about the baby. Unreal. A person might think you're just trying to play mind games with me, which maybe you are. You say you're not a good guy, so I guess that fits."

"Look. Maybe I
should
go. I've said all I have to say."

"Great." After wiping away another tear, I pointed in the direction of the hallway. "Door's that way. Don't let it hit you in the rear on the way out. Oh, wait...I bet that won't be a problem. I forgot how good you are at making hasty exits."

Desmond didn't even have a retort, just left.
Typical
, I thought. Since I'd met him, all he'd been doing was leaving. First on the night we'd met, then at the restaurant, and then at present, even though the latter leaving I realized I'd asked him to do. But just the same, it was clear that he was the kind of man who didn't stick around.

The kind of man you couldn't count on. Which wasn't any kind of a man I'd ever want around my child. So I wasn't sure why, just mere moments after Desmond's most recent exit, I buried my face in my hands and cried.