ROMANCE: BAD BOY ROMANCE: Basketball Daddy (BWWM Alpha Male Billionaire Pregnancy Romance) (African American Unexpected Pregnant Contemporary Romance) (84 page)

His wounds had longs since scarred over, but the internal damage from Nylæq's 'experiments' was taking longer to stitch itself back together. Brask lay on a couch, a book propped in his hands, wishing that stlozyn healed just a little faster. At least they weren't as slow at healing as humans… Libba had given birth two weeks previously, and even with medical attention, she was still complaining about her tender parts. A dragoness would have been sore for a day or two, but by the end of the first week would have been fully healed.

The human, sitting across the room with her feet up, glanced up at him. "You're staring at me."

"Because you're so beautiful."

Somewhere from in the kitchen, Biryl groaned. "Don't. I can't stomach another one of your 'cutesy' moments."

"Cutesy?"

"It's a human word meaning so sweet it makes you sick."

Brask closed his book and sat up with difficulty. His skin pulled, making him gasp, and he put a hand on his chest.

"Are you okay?" Libba asked, her eyes widening.

"I'm fine. Just healing." He groaned. "I keep hoping that I'll remember how we got off of Nylæq's ship. I don't even remember killing her."

"I know." Libba gave him a sympathetic look. "I don't remember much after that myself."

She shivered, and Brask held out his arms to her. She moved from her chair and snuggled against him. She was so soft and fit into his arms perfectly. He closed his eyes and thanked the Creator for bringing her into his life.

"That's right, you two just sit there being all cutesy while I slave over making dinner," Biryl complained from where he was. "Doesn't bother me at all."

"Nobody asked you to stick around, you know," Libba reminded him, rolling her eyes. "You're the one who decided that we couldn't do anything without you. But you know what, women take care of babies by themselves all the time on Earth. We don't need your help."

Biryl snorted. "Here I am, aiding two criminals, and what thanks do I get? None, that's what I get. How would you like it if you had to take care of two people who couldn't take care of themselves while one kept insisting that she was fine? Except, of course, when she's complaining about how much pain she's in?" He glared at the two of them, and a pained look crossed his face when one little cry started two more from the nursery. "Make that taking care of five people."

"I'll get them," Libba said, standing.

Brask leaned back into the couch again. He would volunteer to go help his mate with the triplets himself, only it wasn't a good idea to pick up and carry the infants in his state. In a few more weeks, hopefully, he would return to peak physical condition. Until then, he had to take it easy.

"I tell you, one more day of this and I'm out of here," Biryl muttered. "I don't see how anybody survives as a parent."

Despite Biryl's complaining, Brask knew that he would never leave them. They probably didn't need help, not anymore at least, but it was far more than just a matter of getting day-to-day tasks done. The only reason any of them were still free and not sitting in a stlozyn prison somewhere–or worse–was because Biryl had faked their deaths.

There was no way Brask would have been pardoned for killing Nylæq, despite the circumstances. Dying was the only way they would have a chance at living. A large part of the crew that had stood with him against Din had followed them to the planet they now lived on. It wasn't the most welcoming place, but it was survivable.

But what surprised Brask was that there were still newcomers arriving. The first ones had been farmers sent by Trafin, and like Brask they wanted a place where they could freely practice religion. The next batch were low-ranking scientists who wanted the same thing.

There was a risk that if people continued to flee to the planet the Science Board would find them, but Brask couldn't turn away people who wanted the same thing from life as he did. They did need a board of government, though, and would be holding elections soon. It was almost certain that Brask would be voted in, and he was already planning what to do with the colony when that happened.

Libba returned from the nursery, wheeling a basinet that contained their three babies, who were now all crying and flailing their fists. Brask heard Biryl mutter something about needing some silence to keep his sanity. His friend slipped from the house as Libba handed one of the triplets to Brask.

Struggling to comfort the other two, Libba retook the spot beside her dragon and sighed. "This is a little exhausting. It's a good thing I'm not a quitter, otherwise I'd go running to the Science Board just to get some sleep."

Brask smiled at her, rocking his son. Three healthy dragons, a little on the small side but still tough as nails. All three of the babies were a strange pinkish color, and the littlest one had fewer scales and more hair than the other two. Brask suspected he would end up a little more human than his brothers.

"If you had known what was going to happen when I suggested that you get pregnant by me, would you have chosen the same?" Brask asked hesitantly.

Libba didn't look at him. "Yes. But I would have decided to have your babies because I knew how happy I would be. Not because I was afraid of the Science Board. What about you?"

"I'd have done it all again in a heartbeat. I have everything I ever wanted now. A family. A mate who respects my beliefs, even if she doesn't share them. A colony away from Bronæl where I can practice my religion, and where other like-minded individuals can gather." The baby he held stared up at him and he smiled. "And what about you? Are you happy?"

"Yes." Libba leaned against him, her cool gray eyes so full of warmth that there had to be a fire burning somewhere inside her. "Until I met you, I was a drifter. I'm not drifting anymore. You're my rock, Brask. The rock I will build my future on."

*****

THE END

Bonus Book 17: The Shifting Billionaire's Baby

By:
T.S. Ryder

Description

A curvy BBW investigating a murder PLUS a hot billionaire business tycoon leading his pack PLUS a dangerous killer on the loose!

Roland Davis is no ordinary man. He's a werewolf and Alpha of his pack. As such, Roland has duties, and taking a mate and producing an heir to lead the werewolves after him are chief among them.

The problem is that there is only one female werewolf left in his pack, and though they’ve been trying for a baby, they haven’t succeeded yet. When she turns up murdered, Roland can't help but feel that he has lost his chance to protect his pack.

Until he meets curvy detective Claire Doyle...

Solving murders is Claire's specialty. Despite what her best friend thinks, she doesn't need anything else in her life. She's not looking for a man, not even a hunky billionaire like Roland.

But as something draws her closer and closer to him, she finds that what she doesn't want might be exactly what she needs.

When a one night stand has unintended consequences, Roland and Claire have to find a way to cope with dark secrets and an uncertain future. But is love really in the cards for them?

Roland could still smell Melissa's blood, even though the police had covered her with a sheet. He stood on the opposite side of the room, watching them work with narrowed eyes. He wanted to stride over to them and demand answers, but this situation was not one where he could intimidate others into submission. They didn't know any more than he did at the moment.

Melissa was dead in his bed. Murdered.

As cameras flashed, taking pictures of the blood stains and possible footprints, Roland's hands clenched. Melissa had been a sweet, kind woman. A little too submissive for his personal preferences, but she didn't deserve
this
. When he learned who killed her, he would kill them. She was a member of his pack, and he was meant to protect her. Failing that, he would have revenge.

The head of security and his second-in-command, Adam, shifted closer to him. "You know they're going to ask for security footage. Last night—"

"I'm aware," Roland interrupted. Like Adam, he kept his voice too low for the police to hear. "They will no doubt find it suspicious that we turned off the security cameras."

The cameras had just been turned back on when Melissa's body was found. Roland had been the one to find her, laying in his bed, a knife still in her chest. He ground his teeth together. Apparently she was ready to try to get pregnant again. She had told him more than once that she wanted to be a mother. It was why she had agreed to try with him in the first place. Now she never would have the chance.

Roland and Adam were the only two born werewolves left in the pack. As Alpha, Roland kept his kind when the full moon rose and transformed his pack into bloodthirsty monsters. Adam, his Beta, had better control over himself than the others, but even he could not fully resist the full moon. Roland needed to take a mate that could bear him children. He needed an heir who would eventually take his place as Alpha, protecting the pack and keeping them in line during the three nights that their wolves took over.

Melissa had been the only female in the pack, the last since Roland's mother passed. Roland didn't love Melissa and she hadn't loved him. They never felt the connection of being mates, even when they were in bed together. They both knew their duty, though, and had been trying to produce young for the past year.

After three miscarriages, Melissa had decided that she didn't want to take the heartbreak anymore. They had agreed to take a break until she was strong enough to face the possibility of losing more babies. Roland hadn't thought that would ever happen. In truth, he wasn't sure how much more heartbreak he could take, and if Melissa had been in his room to start trying again, he didn't know if
he
would have wanted to try.

"How are you going to find a mate now she's gone?" Adam muttered under his breath.

Roland tensed.

"You know that you need to have an heir soon. The pack is getting restless during the moon. Unless you have young soon, I'm afraid they're going to start challenging you. Especially Brian."

"I understand your concerns, Adam." Roland worked hard to keep his voice level. The Beta was only expressing his concerns, after all. "But Melissa's body is still in my bed. Show some respect."

Adam bowed his head. "I didn't mean—"

"I know. Just keep it to yourself." Roland blew out a deep breath, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

The faint scent of chocolate cupcakes had his head turning. As he turned, a woman strode past, completely ignoring him. His eyes zoned in on her as she went directly to the body. She walked with all the self-confidence of a queen, although she was dressed in a fitted business suit and sensible flats. Her short hair was perfectly curled, and she carried a large, black bag over her shoulder.

"Detective Doyle." The cop who had told Roland to stand outside the room, then permitted him to stand by and watch when Roland had refused to leave, nodded in greeting to the new woman. She nodded at him in return.

"What do we have here?"

Roland couldn't stop his eyes from widening. Her voice was rich and slightly husky for a woman, although all the more attractive for it. His eyes traced her body. She was all mouth-watering curves, soft and plump and oh so succulent. The pencil skirt she wore hugged her ass, and he couldn't help but imagine what the curves of the twin globes would be like if she was naked. His mouth watered.

A sharp jab from Adam's elbow brought him back to the present. Roland glared at his Beta, who ducked his head in apology. The Alpha shook his head–as he had just told Adam, Melissa's body was still laying in his bed. This was the worst time for him to be checking out another woman!

Even one as delicious as Detective Doyle.

The detective was being briefed on the circumstances of how Melissa was found, and she glanced over her shoulder at Roland. She had a kind, open face, and the biggest, brownest eyes he had even seen. They matched her chocolate scent perfectly. Her skin was milky-white.

Melissa had been Hollywood-pretty. Stick-thin, with cute, bite-sized breasts and a flat, tight ass. Roland had enjoyed being with her, but he had never felt the thick lust towards her that was pooling in his belly when Detective Doyle met his eyes. He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to breathe through his mouth so that he couldn't smell her. Chocolate was his favorite food.

She turned away again, and Roland shifted, reminding himself of the setting. He'd had serious attractions to human women before, and they always ended the same way. Badly. It wasn't like he could just tell them that he was a werewolf and needed to have babies as soon as possible. That was enough to scare off even the most starry-eyed woman.

He wasn't going to let his attraction to this new woman overcome his good senses. He didn't even know her, and Melissa deserved better than to be forgotten so quickly.

Adam leaned in, muttering under his breath. "Those legs weren't meant for pantyhose. She looks like a stuffed sausage."

Roland's eyes immediately went to the detective's calves. They were thicker than many women's, but there were smooth, taut muscles under her delicious skin. The Alpha growled despite himself, hackles rising at Adam's insult of the beautiful detective.

"The only thing that could possibly improve that woman is if she were naked and under me," he hissed at the Beta.

Adam's eyes widened. Roland glared at him, and the smirk that spread over the Beta's face only made him angrier.

Adam opened his mouth.

"Don't," Roland warned.

The Beta snorted, hastily covering it with a cough as the detectives turned in their direction. Roland ground his teeth together, clenching his fists. With the full moon so recent, his wolf was strong in his blood, and it was urging him to punch Adam in the face and remind him his place in the pack. Roland did not endorse physical violence when it wasn't necessary, however. Even if he did, hitting his head of security when a half-dozen police were staring at him was not the best idea.

Detective Doyle's chocolate-colored eyes were on him again, so he turned and marched from the room. It was the moon that was making him respond so strongly to her. That was the only reason he was getting so distracted by her when Melissa had just been murdered! He needed to remember that.

"Hey, I didn't mean it," Adam said, once they were out of the room.

"Didn't mean what, exactly? Your rude comment or laughing at me?" Roland's eyes narrowed in warning.

"What I said about the detective. I just thought that you needed something to lighten the mood. I didn't realize you were attracted."

Roland turned to him, then stiffened when he saw the detective had followed them out. Her expression was completely neutral, and he didn't know if she had heard what Adam had just said or not. Still, he sent a warning glance at his Beta and stepped up to the detective, offering her his hand.

"I'm Detective Claire Doyle," she said. Her rich voice had the slightest southern twang to it. "You must be Roland Davis."

Roland nodded. "I was Miss Clarkson's employer. And this is my head of security, Adam Buchan."

Claire spared a brief glance at Adam before focusing on Roland. "Do you have any idea why Miss Clarkson would be in your bed?"

"We occasionally had sex," Roland replied, trying to make his voice as bored at it could be.

The detective gave no physical response to his statement, keeping her gaze steady on him. "So you two were in a relationship, then?"

"A sexual relationship. We didn't have a romantic relationship."

Roland couldn't stop a note of sadness from escaping. He liked Melissa, he really did, and more than once had wished he could love her. It might just be a silly tradition, but his father, also werewolf-born, had always said that pregnancy took better between mates. But when it came to wolves, love was necessary for a true mating to happen. It was something that happened when they met, and solidified when they had sex for the first time. His father had described it like a holy sacrament.

Roland didn't know much about that. Both of his parents had been religious, but he never saw the purpose of it. He knew that he was cursed to become a devil every full moon, just barely able to keep his pack together to stop them from slaughtering innocents. He didn't need religion to tell him he was going to hell as well. Perhaps that was why he never really believed in love at first sight.

"And she didn't have any feelings for you?" Claire raised one eyebrow.

Roland shook his head. Sometimes, when they were lying in bed together, Melissa would tell him about her dreams of falling in love. He was sorry that he was never able to give that to her. She had deserved a full, happy life. Not the multiple miscarriages she endured. And then to die like this… It was horrible.

"I see." Claire turned to Adam. "And Mr. Buchan, is it?"

The Beta nodded.

Claire cocked her head to one side as she studied him. "What was your relationship with the deceased?"

"Friendly. We hung out sometimes, but there was nothing between us. She wasn't my type."

Adam gave Claire an easy grin, the one that made it possible for him to seduce nearly every reporter, both male and female, who came snooping around Roland's mansion or office buildings, looking for a story. Roland frowned at him, but Detective Doyle's answering smile was anything but flirtatious. All business. He liked that.

"Where were the two of you between 6:00 and 8:00 this morning?"

6:00 to 8:00. So that was the time of death? Roland hadn't found Melissa until noon. At 6:00, the full moon would have just been wearing off. He forced himself not to react, but what if Melissa had still been half-wolf, and interrupted a burglar or something? Their secret could be out.

"6:00 to 8:00?" Adam scrunched up his forehead. "We were still cleaning up from the party downstairs. Hell of a thing."

Claire cast a glance around the hallway. "This rich and you have to clean up your own messes, Mr. Davis?"

"I like to pitch in once in a while. Keeps me grounded."

Claire smiled a pretty smile at him, causing his heart to skip a beat. "I see. Well, if there's anything you can think of that can help us, here's my card. Give me a call."

"I will."

She turned back to the bedroom, and Roland let out a pent-up breath as she left. Now
there
was a real woman. Who might suspect him of murder. He needed to remember that and keep his head about him. The Alpha turned and walked away.

This was one situation in which he needed to keep his distance and not go for what he wanted… a taste of chocolate cupcakes.