THE FINAL HAPTER
Brigitte woke up to the feeling of Dillon’s arms around her, and for a moment she wondered just why it felt so right. After the carnage she had seen the night before, she wouldn’t have thought that she could ever be fully comfortable around Dillon again. He killed people to protect you, she thought, keeping her eyes closed. If Dillon were awake, he would know that she wasn’t actually sleeping; he’d surprised her on more than one occasion in their short courtship with how intimately he was aware of her body language. But for the moment, either he was willing to let her keep up the ruse, or he wasn’t awake.
Brigitte took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain relaxed as she puzzled through her feelings for the man who had claimed her as his mate. Yes, he had killed people to protect her, and to protect the nascent life growing slowly but steadily inside of her body but how did she feel about that? She couldn’t deny that she was glad she hadn’t been injured or killed the night before; but at the same time, Brigitte wasn’t so certain she liked the idea of anyone dying for her benefit.
He loves you. He loves you in a way that you probably would never be able to find with a regular human man. The thought both frightened and tantalized her. The animal part of Dillon’s personality, the lion that was as much a part of his mind as the human form he maintained the majority of the time, was a creature of absolutes. There was no real mediating consciousness in that part of his mind, there was no such thing as a gray area. It loved absolutely, it hated with a bleakness and decisiveness that almost frightened Brigitte. Dillon would, she was certain, stop at nothing to protect her—hadn’t he proved that the night before, and the night of the first attack they weathered together?
The human part of his personality was just as important though, Brigitte reminded herself. For the most part, Dillon was human; he walked around in a human shape that she was—being honest with herself—so thoroughly attracted to that she could almost forget that he became a lion by force of will.
She wanted his body like she wanted water when she was thirsty, like she wanted food when she was hungry. It was an attraction she didn’t have words for; she thought that there probably wasn’t a word to describe the depth of desire and need she felt for Dillon whenever he was close. He cared for her as a human, too. Brigitte knew that if it were just animal instinct, there would be something different about it.
She had told him, weeks before, that she would consider coming to an agreement with him if only because he needed a mate in order to be able to join the Pride. After the night of the attack, she had been so touched by the fact that he had gone to bat for her, demanding Kieran’s word that she would be safe from the rest of the Pride whether or not she formally became his mate.
She temporarily put aside all of the misgivings she felt about committing to someone she had only known for a week or two, someone with whom she initially planned to have nothing more than a fling, Brigitte remembered their first night together and almost grinned in her feigned sleep at the memory of how Dillon’s demeanor had changed; the fact that he had insisted that they would not have sex together that night.
“Does that feel like I don’t want you, love? I feel like I’ve got hot lead here,” Dillon had said, and Brigitte had been able to hear the tightness, the desire in his voice. “I want you so much my bones are cracking inside of my body, trying to get me to grab you and have you.” Brigitte shivered in Dillon’s arms, able to hear his voice in her mind only too clearly, able to remember the first time they had sex, how right it had felt even then.
She should have known, Brigitte realized suddenly. Sex with someone never felt quite that right, quite that completely perfect, the first time. It always took a little trial and error, a little give and take. But it was as though Dillon had known every little trick and quirk of her body right away, as if he had had access to some kind of user manual that he’d studied before they’d even met. And the sex had only gotten better from there.
Brigitte tried to stay still, to stay relaxed in Dillon’s arms as her mind turned over the issues and concerns she felt inside of her over and over again. She couldn’t deny the fact that some aspects of Dillon’s animal nature frightened her—although she knew on some instinctive level that he would never hurt her, at least not directly. But her life had unquestionably become more dangerous once he had entered it. Could she trust that the Pride’s issues would calm down now? Could she have any faith in the idea that she would be safe living with Dillon as a member of the were-lion community?
Dillon would do everything he could to keep her safe—even if that meant killing someone—but what if he died? Brigitte felt a sharp pain at the thought. Even if she wasn’t sure about a lot of the complications involved in their relationship, she knew that losing Dillon would be a pain she almost couldn’t bear.
“I know you’re awake love,” Brigitte couldn’t resist a smile as Dillon’s voice filled her ears. “If you want to keep pretending to be asleep for some reason, I’ll go off and make you breakfast—but just know you’re not fooling me.” She opened her eyes, turning over and around to face the man who she had to admit to herself that she loved.
“I was just thinking,” she said, throwing an arm over his body and cuddling closer to him.
“Is that so? Come to any fascinating conclusions?” Brigitte licked her lips.
“One that might interest you,” she said, swallowing against the sudden spurt of nervousness she felt. Why was she nervous? Brigitte could have almost laughed at the ridiculous reaction.
“What’s that?” Dillon’s hands trailed over her body slowly, soothing and reassuring her.
Brigitte couldn’t quite bring herself to meet his gaze, though she could feel it on her as she stared at his neck, his shoulder, and his collarbones.
“That I love you.” The words tumbled out and her cheeks burned, the blush spreading down onto her chest in a flush of heat.
Dillon’s hands paused on her body and Brigitte’s fear intensified. Her lover’s fingers slid up underneath her jaw, tilting her face up, forcing her to look into his big, dark eyes. “Even after last night?” Dillon’s voice shook slightly. Brigitte nodded, momentarily unable to speak.
“Hard not to love someone who will put themselves on the line for you,” she admitted, smiling weakly.
“I know last night terrified you,” Dillon said slowly.
Brigitte started to protest but she knew she couldn’t lie about it. Not to herself, and not to Dillon. She nodded again. “It did,” she admitted. “I haven’t been raised to just expect that kind of violence as a thing that happens.” Dillon kissed her forehead lightly.
“I know,” he said, reaching up to stroke her hair slowly. “I hope it’s not something you’ll have to deal with very much in the future. For the most part, life in a Pride is pretty peaceful.”
Brigitte snorted, shifting to press her body against Dillon’s more thoroughly. “I’d like to believe that, really I would,” she said, her voice slightly tart. “But considering my two encounters with the Pride here have been violent…” she shrugged and took a deep breath. “But that’s not your fault. And it’s not Kieran’s fault. It’s…something I’m going to have to get used to. You’re all human, but you’re animals, too.”
“Do you feel guilty?” Dillon’s gaze on her face was intent. Brigitte considered the question.
“Yes and no,” she said finally. “I felt terrible that people had to die. I feel horrible that they probably had friends outside of the Pride who are never going to know what happened to them. I don’t exactly feel guilty about the reason they died, but…” she shrugged again. “It’s hard to explain, I guess.”
“I understand,” Dillon said, turning over and pulling her around to settle on top of him. He hugged her tightly, kissing her lightly on the lips. “I think even those of us who are born to this feel it a little bit. It sucks to have to kill people, even if they deserve it, and even if they’d kill you just as quickly.”
“I kind of feel like this conversation is getting a little heavy,” Brigitte said, squirming slightly on top of Dillon. “Can we get back to the whole part where I love you?” Dillon grinned up at her.
“Oh absolutely,” he said, his hands trailing over her back in a slow, lingering caress. “I will never, ever in my life get tired of hearing you say those words.”
Brigitte rolled her eyes, blushing again. “Don’t be so sure about that, lion-boy,” she said, giving him a quick, teasing kiss on the lips. “What if you get bored with me?”
Dillon shook his head. “It’s not possible,” he told her, rocking his hips against hers as he caressed her all over. Brigitte could feel the heat simmering between them, the rise of their desire for each other; it was something so elemental, so basic, that she didn’t think she’d ever unravel it completely. “I will never be bored with you.”
“Not even after fifty years? Come on, you’re still a human guy. It’s possible.”
Dillon shook his head again. “Nope. You’re my mate; I told you, it’s a biological imperative.”
Brigitte giggled, lifting herself up onto her elbows to look down into Dillon’s face more comfortably. “Oh god, you’re going to keep knocking me up, aren’t you?”
Dillon hesitated for just a moment, licking his lips, before he nodded. “Not purposely, exactly,” Dillon said, kissing her lightly. “But you have to have noticed that when it comes to you I have an insanely high sex drive, and, well...” he shrugged.
“Not that I mind the sex drive part,” Brigitte said with a little smile. “But can we at least space out the pregnancies, somehow? Because the idea of being pregnant every year for the next ten years is less than appealing.”
Dillon’s eyes widened for a moment. “There’s something else I have to tell you,” he said, looking away furtively. Brigitte groaned.
“You know what? I want you to just tell me everything all the time, so we don’t have any more of these ‘I need to tell you something’ conversations where you bring up something that’s going to completely blow my life out of the water. Lay it all on me at once.”
Dillon grinned ruefully. “There’s a chance,” he said slowly, “that you’re carrying multiples. We won’t know for a while, and it’s not like I’m predicting it, but you should probably know.”
Brigitte’s eyes widened and she stared down at Dillon. “Multiples as in twins, or multiples as in a litter of were-lion babies?” Dillon cringed.
“Not a litter,” he said, his lips twisting into a grimace. “But twins are kind of…more likely than the regular population. Maybe triplets.”
Brigitte closed her eyes and breathed in slowly, counting mentally to ten. “You didn’t think that this was something that you should have told me when you informed me that I’m pregnant?” she asked archly, opening her eyes to pin down the man she loved with a stare.
Dillon smiled slightly. “It’s not like it’s a definite thing! It’s just more likely,” he said, his hands moving to soothe her.
Brigitte heard and felt a rumbling in his chest and realized that he was purring. “Uh-uh, no,” she said quickly, squirming free of Dillon’s arms. “You are not going to do that cat thing where you purr and like—make me all mushy and forgetful about this.”
She scrambled out of the bed and Dillon sat up in a blur of movement, his eyes wide and intent on her, and a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. Brigitte recognized the look on his face immediately and felt a tingle work through her nerves. She bit her bottom lip, blushing slightly as Dillon’s gaze trailed over her body, taking in every inch of her.
“Are you trying to run away from me?” Dillon asked, his voice low, almost growling. “I can catch you, you know.”
Brigitte crossed her arms over her bare chest, leaning forward to give Dillon a haughty look. “Can you? You’re still injured from last night. I think I might have the advantage.”
She heard him purring more intensely, and felt the tingle in her body intensify as she realized what was about to happen. She held perfectly still for just a moment, watching Dillon watching her, waiting for the first sign of movement from him. After what felt like an eternity, Dillon launched himself out of the bed and Brigitte darted to the side, evading his grab and scurrying out of the bedroom and into the living room.
Dillon gave chase, hot on her heels, and Brigitte laughed irresistibly as she bobbed and wove, barely evading him as she ran around her coffee table, through the living room and into the kitchen. Dillon had her cornered, but just when he would have thrown his arms around her to capture her, Brigitte ducked under his grab, slithering past him and out of the kitchen once more. She nearly tripped over the rug in the living room and scrambled to keep herself upright as she ran into her bedroom once more. Brigitte jumped onto and then off of the bed, barely managing her landing with Dillon right behind her—more nimble than she by far.
“It’s not fair, you can always land on your feet,” she called out, feinting towards the door to the living room.
Dillon moved to intercept her, and Brigitte ducked in the other direction to dart into the bathroom, where she could put a door between herself and her lover. But she had not counted on Dillon reading her evasion; he was too quick, and corrected before she had made it to the doorway, gaining on her in an instant. Brigitte’s hand barely closed on the doorknob when Dillon’s arms coiled around her and he lifted her up, pressing her body against his and bringing her mouth up to kiss her hungrily.
She gave in, draping her arms around his shoulders and letting Dillon take her weight against his strong body. She wrapped her legs around his waist and for a long time—how long, she could never say afterwards—they kissed, doing nothing more but enjoying the proximity of each other’s bodies, the feeling of being close.
Dillon broke away finally and let her down onto her feet, holding her steady until she was able to manage on her own. “You know, it really isn’t fair,” she said, panting slightly from both the burst of exercise and the lingering, passionate kiss.
“You have every single advantage over me. Next time we play, you should have one hand tied behind your back.” Dillon laughed out loud, taking her by the hand and leading her into the living room.
“I could catch you with one hand tied behind my back and blindfolded,” he told her confidently. Brigitte pouted, even as she let herself be led to the couch, pressing her gently down. “If it makes you feel any better,” Dillon said, leaning in to kiss her pouting lips, “you at least gave me a challenge a couple of times there.” Brigitte rolled her eyes and sank back against the couch cushions, sprawling slightly as she tried to catch her breath.
“Taunting a pregnant woman,” she said, shaking her head and tsking. “Not very gentlemanly of you, Dillon.”
Dillon raised an eyebrow and in an instant he was on top of her, his body covering hers, his hands moving over her in a quick, devastating survey of her curves. Brigitte felt her arousal beginning to stir, her body ready for another session of lovemaking even if she was still a little tired, still a little worn out from the chase.
“You’re the one who started it,” he reminded her. “Trying to get away from me like that.” He kissed her lightly on the lips and then broke away, pulling himself up to peer down into her face. “You need to eat. What do you want?” Brigitte sighed; she knew he was right, but her stomach had been so sensitive that she didn’t have any idea what would set off her nausea.
“Peanut butter toast?” she suggested. That was bland—and it had protein and fat, which she supposed she needed in growing a baby. “I should probably read up on what I should and shouldn’t be eating,” she said absently, more to herself than to Dillon.
“Anything you want, love.”
Dillon stood quickly, and Brigitte almost stopped him; the weight of his body against hers felt so good, so comforting, that she didn’t want it to be gone. But as he turned to go into the kitchen, her stomach let her know that it was very empty, and Brigitte let him go, curling up on her side to await her breakfast. He loves me, Brigitte thought, smiling to herself. She had known it somehow, in the back of her mind, in a basic and elementary way but it was a different kind of knowledge to her now.
“Hey,” she called out, turning her head to project her voice across the apartment, even though she knew that Dillon’s keen ears would have heard her even if she had spoken in a normal conversational tone.
“What, love?”
Brigitte felt her cheeks warming up as she tingled with the thrill of what she knew she was about to say. “I just told you I love you, you jerk. Aren’t you going to tell me back?” There was a moment of silence, and then Dillon appeared in front of her. He knelt in front of the couch, his big, dark eyes staring into hers.
“I love you, darling,” he said quietly. “More than you will ever know. I can never not love you.” He kissed her lightly on the lips and tousled her hair.
“Do you want to get married?” Brigitte felt her heart skip and stutter in her chest as the question left her lips. Dillon’s eyes widened, and he stared at her in amazement.
“Are you sure that’s what you want? Are you ready for it?”
Brigitte shrugged, her blush deepening. “Not, like, today,” she said quickly. “But…” she shrugged again. “We could be sort of … engaged to be engaged.” Her hand went down to the slight curve of her belly—a curve she knew was only going to grow in the next nine months. “Especially now that we know we’re going to be parents.”
“It’s up to you,” Dillon said. “If you want to be married, I’ll marry you. If you want to just be engaged…” he brushed his lips against her temple. “I don’t want you to do this if you don’t want to actually be my wife. You can be my mate, and the mother of my child, without having to be anything else.” Brigitte smiled.
“So what you’re saying is that I can just keep you on tenterhooks for the rest of your life, waiting to see if I’m ever ready to make this legal? Come on, Dillon. You just said you’re going to love me for the rest of your life.”
“Do you think you’re going to love me for the rest of your life?”
Brigitte considered the question. She had never in her entire life thought that a question like that was one that a person could answer with any fairness. The idea of just knowing that a person could love another person for the rest of their life had seemed so strange. And yet, she thought, there was something so completely different about the way she felt around Dillon compared with every other relationship she had ever been in. And she couldn’t deny that no matter what else happened between them, they had a bond for the rest of their lives, forged by the child she was pregnant with.
“I think I could,” Brigitte said, licking her lips. “I mean, I don’t—I don’t know the way that you know, but we’re going to have something to do with each other for the rest of our lives anyway, right?” Dillon smiled. “So we’ll move in together next week, and then we’ll just… start planning how we’re going to do this ‘getting married’ thing.”
Dillon laughed. “Don’t sound so excited about it,” he said wryly.
Brigitte rolled her eyes. “Hey, you’re getting me to commit. You’ve won. Don’t be a jerk. Go make your hungry mate some food.” Dillon chuckled and stood, giving Brigitte’s hair another quick tousle before he retreated into the kitchen once more.
*
Dillon heard his phone ringing in the living room where he had left it plugged in to charge. He frowned, looking to see if the noise had awakened his mate. Brigitte was still fast asleep next to him in the bed, and Dillon exhaled with relief. He slipped out from under the blankets, and padded out of the room to avoid disrupting her sleep.
It had been a long day for both of them, and Dillon knew that in spite of her protests to the contrary, Brigitte was exhausted. Pulling the door closed, he continued across the living room to the side table where his phone sat, and picked it up, unlocking the screen to see the source of the disruption. Kieran’s number flashed as the phone rang a third time, and Dillon tapped the ‘accept’ icon.
“We have the last of them,” Kieran said without preamble when the call connected.
“Good to know,” Dillon replied, sinking down onto the couch with a yawn.
“I’m going to need you to be here for the meeting, you know,” Kieran said.
Dillon nodded, even if he knew that the Alpha wouldn’t be able to see him through the phone. “I can be there,” Dillon said.
“How’s Brigitte?”
Dillon smiled to himself, looking down at his bare feet on the floor. “She’s good. Coming along. Tired all the time, but she’s got an appointment with that doctor Sylvia recommended.”
“You moved in?” Dillon nodded again.
“I did,” he said, glancing around to see his furniture mingled amongst Brigitte’s in the foreign-yet-familiar environment of her apartment. A few boxes hugged one of the walls near the kitchen; more were in the bedroom he had just left. “We’re going to set a date soon.”
“I think she shouldn’t come to the next meeting,” Kieran said cautiously. “She’s still new to our ways.”
“I wasn’t going to bring her,” Dillon said. “I think she’s seen enough of that side to last her a while.”
“All right. I just wanted to keep you updated. I need to contact the rest of the Pride members.”
“See you soon.” Dillon hung up and set his phone down, yawning again as he stretched along the length of the couch.
It had been two weeks since the meeting when Kieran had announced Dillon’s future status as the second. In that time, the few members of the Pride who had revolted against Kieran tried to escape the Alpha’s justice, hiding out in singles and pairs. If Kieran or the Pride’s trackers had managed to find the last of the guilty party, the executions could happen. Dillon knew from the moment Kieran called him, the morning after the battle, that he would not be bringing Brigitte to the meeting that would include the judgment against the second crop of renegades. It wasn’t something she could handle—not yet, and possibly not ever. Better to leave her out of that part of his life as a member of the Pride.
As her pregnancy progressed into the first trimester, Brigitte’s fatigue deepened, and Dillon had suggested—cautiously—that if she couldn’t dependably know if she was going to be able to deal with getting up and going to work, she could give her notice. He knew that she liked her independence, but Brigitte had given him a slightly resentful glance at the suggestion, but she hadn’t bitten his head off verbally as he’d half expected her to. She was certainly exhausted, and he was—now that Kieran had been able to hire him—more than able to support them.
As the Alpha’s second, Dillon was making a much better salary than anyone else in the Pride, more than enough to amply provide for Brigitte and their child, whether she worked or not. He would also be able to give her better insurance than she currently had through her job.
For the sake of helping to retain her sense of independence, Dillon had agreed to move into Brigitte’s apartment, rather than insisting on her moving in with him, or for them to both move their separate belongings into a completely different home. For all that he thought that he would never fully and completely understand the woman who had become his mate in more than just words, Dillon knew enough about his lover to know that she would accept his help and caring if it was in her own space, on her own terms.
So Dillon had gathered up his sparse belongings and brought them into her house, with help from one of the members of the Pride who was in favor of his inclusion. Sylvia had suggested that Brigitte should visit one of the two-natured doctors the Pride knew; while Brigitte herself was not a were-lion, the child—or children—she was carrying was likely to be, and having a doctor who knew the kinds of complications that could come with that, including the multiple births, would be a big help in her life.
Dillon stretched again, feeling the languor along his bones as he twisted and rolled his head around on his neck. Things were, finally, beginning to calm down in his life. He had the woman he loved, and they were on the way to becoming formally bound to each other, not just legally, but in the eyes of the Pride. He worried for her—and he sometimes feared that there were certain aspects of both of their lives that they would never completely be able to understand, but Dillon was more contented than he had been in years.
He heard the sound of movement in the bedroom and groaned softly to himself; Brigitte was up. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her—it was that he knew she needed as much sleep as she could get, and that if she didn’t get it, she was apt to be irritable and tired.
“How are you feeling love?” he asked, calling out softly as he heard the creak of the door opening.
Dillon turned his head to see Brigitte, her naked body covered by nothing but a small fleece throw, padding slowly into the living room. She yawned and came closer to him, looking for all the world like a little girl awakened prematurely from a nap: her hair mussed, her eyes sleepy, her lips in a half-frown.
“I’m okay,” she said quietly. Dillon turned onto his side, scooting back to give the woman he loved room to lie next to him. He patted the couch cushions in invitation and Brigitte nodded silently to acknowledge the gesture, walking the few final steps and sinking down onto the couch. Dillon wrapped one arm around her firmly, holding her close. “What was the call?”
“Kieran,” Dillon said. “They tracked the last of the enemy fighters.” Brigitte shivered.
“I don’t have to be there when they…”
Dillon shook his head. “No reason for you to see it, so you’re going to be staying in.”
Brigitte sighed and cuddled close to him. Is it possible for a guy to be too happy? I feel like I’m pushing my luck. Dillon trailed his hands over Brigitte’s body slowly, breathing in her familiar scent, with the undercurrent of her advancing pregnancy.
“What are we going to do if it’s twins?” Brigitte asked, turning her head to look at him closely. Dillon shrugged.
“We’ll deal with it like we’ve dealt with everything else,” he said, smiling slightly. “You’re tough enough to get through the pregnancy, and I’ll help you.”
“You’d better,” Brigitte said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not going to put up with any lion bullshit about abandoning me for the first several years of the child’s life.”
Dillon laughed, pulling Brigitte close. “That isn’t entirely the case with even regular, wild lions,” he told her, brushing his lips against her cheek. “And in my case, I am well and thoroughly tamed. You’re more likely to get annoyed with me being underfoot all the time.”
“Can you lactate? That would be helpful.”
Dillon snorted, bringing his lips back to Brigitte’s to give her a lingering kiss. “I can’t, but I will be keeping you fed, keeping the house clean, letting you rest.” He took a deep breath. “You’re going to have to get used to the idea that the Pride is going to be part of your life, you know.”
Brigitte frowned. “I’ve already come to terms with that,” she said, her voice sounding almost petulant.
Dillon shook his head. “Not in the normal, social sense,” he explained. “The Pride is much smaller than it used to be—and after the next meeting, it’s going to be even smaller—but they’re going to want to help you out.”
“How?” Brigitte’s frown deepened.
“They’re going to want to make sure the child has everything he or she needs. They’re going to be all over the place after you give birth.”
Brigitte’s frown shifted into a smile. “And I can assume they’re going to want to babysit?” Her voice sounded hopeful. Dillon laughed.
“You’re going to have to do your part too, but yes, whoever has kids in the Pride will want to have play dates with our child or children.” Brigitte took a deep breath, and Dillon felt him relax into the trusting, affectionate woman he cared about so much.
“We should see if we can convince any of them to do some of the house cleaning for us when I get enormous and can’t bend over anymore,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
Dillon grinned. “Well, you’ll be the mate of the second, that comes with some status in the Pride. Not as much as Kieran’s wife would enjoy, but pretty high up there.”
“This is sounding better and better.”
Dillon pulled Brigitte’s face around gently, holding her gaze. “I know you’re doing this in part because you feel like you have to,” he said slowly. “You want what’s best for the kid, and what’s best for me, and I love you for it.” Dillon licked his lips. “But I want to make sure that you’re doing this because you see it as what’s best for you, too.” Brigitte shrugged.
“I’m getting ready to marry you because I don’t want to be without you,” she said. “I’m willing to join the Pride because that’s where you belong, and where this kid is going to belong.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I can—I think I can—get used to a lot of things about being in your community.”
“But not all of them,” Dillon said, almost making it a question.
“Not all,” Brigitte admitted. “I’m glad I won’t have to see people executed. But I can deal with the fact of there being some violence as long as it doesn’t come at me, and as long as I don’t have to see it too often.”
“I’ll do my best,” Dillon promised with a slight smile.
“And I can deal with you turning into a lion. But I swear to god if you get fleas, I’m divorcing you.” Dillon groaned.
“I will take a flea bath after every hunt if it really worries you,” he said, shaking his head. “I have never had fleas in my life, woman. That’s almost insulting.”
“Hey—you’re the one that turns into an animal,” Brigitte said, grinning playfully at him.
“Not the only one,” Dillon said, one hand trailing down, slipping between her legs. He had read the signs correctly; he could smell the little undercurrent of desire that was building up in his mate’s pheromones. “You’re more than a match for my animal nature in bed.”
Dillon smirked at Brigitte, remembering a particularly uninhibited night of lovemaking only the week before, even if Brigitte got tired more easily than she had when they first started courting each other, and even if she was sick in the mornings, Dillon thought that her pregnancy had given him one very, very good benefit: she was also on the point of being turned on at almost any given moment, her sex-drive higher than ever.
“That is so cheesy, I’m tempted to tell you to leave me alone as punishment,” Brigitte said. Dillon chuckled and turned her over onto her back on the couch, pinning her there.
“I know you want it,” Dillon murmured in a low, growling voice. “You can’t lie to me about that.” He began to tease her, kissing her hungrily and trailing his hands all over Brigitte’s body, it never got less exciting to feel her becoming more aroused, to smell her desire, hear her moans.
Dillon knew that as long as he was able to pay attention to the woman he loved he would be able to keep her happy and safe. They had weathered an attack and a battle. Dillon thought they could withstand anything now.