I’m a bit dizzy from the complete turnaround in Taran but there is no way I’m going to stop our momentum now. He agrees to come home with me this time, and short of launching out of the back of the gallery in flight form to make a straight line to my place, we hire a car, which will get to us faster than a regular cab.

Taran is in the way, and making it harder to unlock my door. He’s all hands and mouth and teeth. His moans rumble through my body, much to my dragon’s delight. Our first night together was frenetic in a very controlled way. While I couldn’t wait to get him inside me, he was able to stay in complete control the entire time.

Not this time, though. I think I hear stitches rip as he shrugs out of his t-shirt to bare his chest.

Last time I was too focused on getting him in bed. The urgency is still there, but this time I have a little more light to appreciate just how incredible he looks without a shirt on. And the tattoos. It looks like a dragon tail wraps around his chest, ending with the tip circling one pec. It’s colorful, ornate, and very detailed. Very fine work.

Now it’s my turn to slow things down as he growls and grabs at me to make us go faster.

I do a little side step dance to get out of his grip to circle around to his back. The bulk of the dragon is there. It’s a reddish dragon with flashing green eyes and smoke billowing from its nostrils, done in an Asian style of art. Something deep inside tells me that I’m looking right at Taran in his dragon form. “Who did it?” I ask breathlessly as I marvel at the artistry.

“Nyve. We worked on the design for almost a year. Now come here.”

Taran tries to turn around and I swat him back into place. “I’m not done looking.”

There is more art on Taran’s skin and I want to see. Tucked away behind the dragon, off to the side, framing and accenting are the usual suspects of tattoo art. Some glyphs or symbols, a line in script I can’t make out. Daggers and skulls, which even though they’re kind of cliché, are still beautifully done and are right at home on Taran’s body.

I note the back claw of the dragon extends beneath his waist band. “How far does it go down?”

“Take my jeans off and find out.”

My dragon is delighted that Taran is so demanding for me. It feels good to be wanted this much. Having spent most of my life with very few social interactions, it’s a nice reminder that I’m actually desirable. What can I say? I’m just a smidge self-conscious.

When I circle back around, fingers trailing over skin so hot to the touch I feel like I’ll burn up, Taran grabs my wrist. He pulls it up snug behind my back. It’s not painful but it does catch me by surprise. When my mouth opens with a gasp, Taran’s tongue sweeps inside and kisses me.

I melt against him, my body aching to be his again.

He takes us both down to the bed, fighting against me to get my shirt off. He flings it across the room and knocks something off my bureau before he covers me with his body.

He’s tight and hard. The line of his cock presses against my lower abdomen as he looms over me in a pose of possession. “I’m going to knot with you tonight, Nosko. Knot you and claim you as mine. And I’ll keep doing it until the only one who fills your dreams is me.”

Fat chance of anyone else filling my dreams. He doesn’t give me a chance to say that before he’s covered me again, claiming my mouth as I’m stretched and pinned beneath him.

Somewhere along the way we lose our clothing until he’s stretched out gloriously on the bed, urging me to straddle him. “Ride,” he says, and his voice reverberates with amazing command. My body moves to obey before I even have to think about it.

I pull his stiff cock up and straddle him, the blunt head pushing at my muscle ring. He slides in easily, my slick practically making us both wet. My body is so ready to be filled by him I open up to take him in completely. Once his head pops past the muscle, it’s an easy slide down.

My ass presses flush against his thighs. After a few deep breaths, I close my eyes and relax, letting my body do what it needs to do. My thighs scream from the exercise after a while, unused to that level of physical activity.

I’m sweating like crazy and there’s an incredible sheen to Taran’s chest. His gaze stays riveted on where our bodies join. Concentration tenses his neck and the muscles in his jaws start to flex. “God, Nosko…” Tilting his head back with his eyes closed, he grunts softly as I move as quickly as I can over him.

He’s lost somewhere in the physical sensations. It’s so easy to do when not having to do all the work. I have to fight just to keep moving.

Taran’s eyes pop open and with a snort, he sits up, arm wrapping around my waist before he takes me down to the bed in a breathtaking show of strength. His cock never slips out of me.

Pushing my legs up, he pounds into me. Now, his amazing hazel gaze is locked with mine and his body is a blur of motion. I’m climbing quickly as the rush of my orgasm starts as a tingle at the soles of my feet.

Lightning fast, it climbs up my legs to settle heavily between them. I need to touch myself. Before I can, Taran balances on one hand and starts to stroke me along with this punishing rhythm.

That last bit is all I need. My fingers clamp over his shoulders and I arch from the bed. With my head back, Taran’s mouth closes over that point on my neck, slightly higher than my pulse point and near the jaw.

His teeth bite down and a delirious sensation swamps my senses. I can’t tell if he’s broken skin. I’ve never been marked and claimed before but it’s like I’m caught in a snare. My body won’t move. The claiming has me frozen.

His hips punch in sharp staccato motions as he latches and holds to my throat. A wild growl winds its way out of him. It’s unlike anything I’ve heard before.

It’s an ancient sound, a sound of possession.

Of claiming.

Taran jerks one final time and I feel his knot slip past my muscle ring to bury inside. It swells up to fill me like I’ve never felt before.

One final shake of his head and he exhales slowly. I can feel him empty into me. My whole body feels the throb and pulse of his cock as he fills me with his seed.

He releases my legs and relaxes over me, his forehead resting against my shoulder. His hot breath pants against my chest. “Shit,” he says after a moment. “I should have planned this better.”

I start to laugh, the sound half-crazed in my own head. “Planned it better?”

“Knotting with you. It’s more comfortable if I do it from the back. You’re stuck with me on top of you until it goes down.”

I wrap my arms around him, cradling the back of his head with my hands. “I’m fine right where I am.”

The first time we had sex, I knew we had a connection.

With his knot stuffed inside me, I know we are complete.

I call out sick the next day. There’s no way I’m going to let him out of my sight now. We have so much to talk about and there’s so little daylight to do it in. After another sweaty session of sex, he knots with me correctly (or so he says) and we talk about plans for the day.

Lunch at a great pub down in the business district, then over to a new art museum.

The Joseph T. Richter Museum of Contemporary Art has an exhibition called Territorial Markings: Musings from the Wilds. The artist goes by one name, Boehme. She’s a legend in the shifter community, mainly due to her ability to move so freely among humans without alerting them to her true nature.

“But she still has a style that shifters can easily gravitate toward,” Taran whispers as he reads from the program. We are sitting on a bench in front of one canvas. It stretches nine feet high by thirteen feet across.

“What do you think?” I ask him.

“I’m not sure what humans see when they view it, but to me, her art speaks to me about freedom. The desire for unfettered, unbounded freedom. But there’s a sadness to it. I like the use of muted color in the negative space. It brings out the feeling of her isolation.”

I won’t lie, I am very surprised by the depth of analysis of Taran’s perspective. Not that I didn’t think he had that depth, but I honestly didn’t think he had the training for that kind of critical art thinking. It’s insightful, not into the art, but into the man sitting beside me.

“She’s trying to break the chains she feels she’s bound by in society,” I say with a tilt to my head. “There, in the trees, bold color strokes, like an animal trying to find a way out.”

A group of school children file into the viewing area and we decide to move on. Several other exhibitions we find we don’t so much agree on. He doesn’t like the commercialization of Terrance Hinterman’s folk art.

“His recent stuff is so derivative.”

I disagree, especially since I bought one of his most recent pieces for my fathers’ anniversary. “It’s within that boundary of sameness that his true genius shows through.”

Taran looks at me like I have three heads. I give him a skeptical eyebrow raise.

The rest of the exhibitions follow suit. We find we are fifty-fifty in agreement on whether something was genius and inspired, or trite and mundane. Through our discussions, which get a little loud on occasion, I realize Taran is a man of many depths. He challenges me and my preconceived notions.

He says that I push him to seek deeper meaning.

As we step into the late afternoon sun, I take a moment to soak up the warmth of the sun. Taran’s arm drapes across my shoulders comfortably.

We are two opposites coming together to make a whole.

I feel complete.

Right after lunch, we decide to walk around the downtown area to see the new sculpture installed in front of the mutually agreed hideous town hall.

Taran huffs out. “God damn that is a butt ugly building.”

My stomach makes some queasy loop-de-loops. I breathe through it before looking up at the building. “I can’t help but notice your eloquence from the museum is now gone.”

“There’s no salvaging this one.” Taran shakes his head. “It’s butt ass ugly.”

My hand smooths across my abdomen.

He leads me over to a stone bench in front of the water fountain. “Are you okay?”

Sitting only makes me feel marginally better. “Not really. I think I ate something that disagreed with me. It’s odd because the deli food at Carl’s usually agrees with me.”

“Maybe we should head back to your place so you can stretch out for a bit.” Taran presses a kiss to my hair and I’m overwhelmed with a wave of love flowing from him. It makes my stomach feel a little better to have someone so concerned with my health.

“Yeah, let’s do that. Can we stop by a pharmacy so I can pick something up for my stomach?”

Taran has his phone out. “Already on it.”

I spent way more at the pharmacy than I should have. My stomach felt wretched the entire time and I was desperate to try anything to make it stop.

I leave all the bags on the table when we get in and lurch into the kitchen to get some water.

Taran walks up behind me and sets a box on the counter. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“What?” I look from him to the box. It’s a pregnancy test. “When did you get this?” I ask.

“Me? It was in the bags you bought from the pharmacy.” Taran thumbs over his shoulder at all the stuff strewn out on the table.

“I don’t remember buying this.”

“I didn’t put it in the basket.” Taran picks up the box to look at it thoughtfully. “Use it,” he says suddenly.

“You mean… now?”

He hands the box to me. “Yeah. It ended up in your stuff for a reason. It was probably subconscious.”

I’m reluctant but his nudges towards the bathroom indicate he’s not going to let this go. “What do you have to lose?” he chides.

He does have a point.

I think I’m going to be sick. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. Seeing the two lines seals the deal. A part of me wants to go out and get another test just to be sure. These tests aren’t one hundred percent accurate, right?

I stare at the traitorous two lines.

Something deep inside me knows it’s right. I can certainly go to the doctor in the next few days and get official results but it feels right. The ‘yes, I’m pregnant’ settles over me like a warm shower.

Taran taps lightly on the door to the bathroom. “Everything okay in there?”

“Sure,” I croak out. “Come on in.”

He peeks in the door before he steps in and shuts it. It’s cozy to have us both crammed into my bathroom. Taran sinks to his knees in front of me and gently takes the results out of my hand. “Two. That means positive?”

My voice gives out and I nod.

“I’m going to be a father,” he says, and I swear it sounds like Taran’s proud.

I frown at him.

“Are you not glad?” Taran waves the test result. “Do you think it’s a false positive? Do we need to go get another one to compare?”

“No, I don’t.” I snatch the thing from him and toss it into the sink. “Are you glad about this, Taran?”

“Why not? I love kids. I’m tall and they can sit on my shoulders so they’ll be able to see over everyone’s head.” Taran gathers my hands in his and he kisses the backs of them, one at a time. “Aren’t you glad?”

“I’m not sure. Yeah, I guess so.”

“You guess so?”

“I wasn’t expecting this, Taran. It’s a lot to take in.”

“It doesn’t surprise me, though.” Taran shifts to sit on the floor and pulls me to straddle his thighs. “Since we’re fated to be together, it makes you more fertile than you’d normally be. Guess this means I’m particularly virile too.” He gives me a cocky grin and I laugh.

“I guess it does. I’m sorry, Taran. Of course I’m glad. I want kids. I want a family and a family life and children and a dog—”

“What kind of dog?”

“I don’t know.” My arms drape over his solid shoulders so my fingers can play with the hair at his nape. “A poodle—”

“A boxer.”

“Whatever.” Taran makes it easy to laugh about this. He’s not mad, which eases the pressure on me. I don’t want him to feel trapped by this.

“So what’s the problem, then?” It’s as if he can read my mind.

“I mean… I was so set on pursuing a career, trying to build up the gallery, putting my education to good use. I mean, I paid enough for the damn thing. And now, all that’s sort of fluttering to the side as I realize I’m going to have a baby. Your baby.”

“Mine,” Taran growls and gnaws playfully at my arm. “All mine. But none of the other stuff has to go away. I have the shop I’m trying to build up. So this means we have to find the time to fit it all in, that’s all. With two of us? We can do it easily.”

I’m not convinced, but his confident enthusiasm soothes my concerns. “The thought of you getting up at 2 AM to change diapers has a certain charm.”

“Dude, I don’t even go to bed until after two. Not a hardship there.”

I have no words so I launch at him to kiss him eagerly.

“Nosko,” he says during a breath. “Bed. Now.”

The realization hits me like a train, leaving me dizzy. He wants to build a life with me.

He wants to be with me. Me and the baby.

I’m going to have a baby!