Charmed and Dangerous by Lindsay Buroker

3

Morgen staredat the result on the pregnancy test in disbelief. She hadn’t expected a positive result, especially since she hadn’t waited until the recommended first-thing-in-the-morning to take it, but there it was.

Her fingers shook as she pulled up her calendar on her phone to double check the weeks. Had it truly been long enough for this?

“Damn,” she whispered, staring at the calendar. She must have gotten pregnant the first time they’d slept together.

That had been spur-of-the-moment and in a cave, but they’d used condoms. After all, they’d been dating for a while at that point. She’d been prepared.

Chainsaw noises wafted in through the bathroom window. Morgen shook her head. What would she say to Amar? They had spoken about children before, and how she sometimes regretted that she’d never had them with her ex-husband. And Amar had mentioned that knowing the rougarou was out there hunting him had kept him from settling down and letting himself get that involved with someone. The rougarou was dead and no longer a threat, but did that mean he would be eager to have children now?

They’d only known each other for a few months. Morgen cared about him—no, she loved him—but were they ready for this?

“It looks like it doesn’t matter if you’re ready,” she mumbled, eyeing the test. “It could be wrong though. I’ll have to see my doctor.”

Her doctor who was back in Seattle. She hadn’t been in Bellrock long enough to think about getting set up with local service providers. She didn’t even think the little tourist town had a doctor, unless one counted Dr. Valderas. He did treat all the werewolves, but she wasn’t going to go to the vet for a pregnancy test.

Morgen headed downstairs, intending to go out and talk to Amar. The sooner she told him, the better.

Wendy was in the living room with a tape measure, and Morgen paused. Chittering came from the wood box on the raised hearth, the ferret Napoleon rooting around in the kindling. Lucky was outside, else he would have been in here barking and trying to get Napoleon to play.

“What are you doing?” Morgen asked.

“Seeing how big of a TV could fit in here.”

Morgen arched her eyebrows. There wasn’t currently a television in the living room or anywhere else in the house. Apparently, Grandma hadn’t felt the need to keep up on the latest soaps or sitcoms, and since Morgen preferred books to TV, or used her laptop to stream things, she hadn’t bothered hunting one down.

“The monitor in my van isn’t very large,” Wendy said, “and since you paid me for the graphics work on your app, I have money to spend on important purchases.”

“Such as a TV for my living room? You don’t even spend that much time in here.”

“Well, I would if there was a giant gaming monitor here.” Wendy smiled and spread her arms toward the wall. “Or maybe here.” She moved to stand in front of the fireplace, waving at the bricks above it.

Napoleon chittered, hopped down from the hearth, and jumped onto the couch. He flopped onto his back and rolled about, little ferret legs in the air. Preparing to make this his new home?

“You have mentioned that we’re welcome inside,” Wendy said.

“You are, but I thought you were heading off to art school when the new semester starts.” Morgen didn’t look forward to losing her jewelry instructor—Wendy, who had been crafting charms and trinkets for years, had been sharing her knowledge—but it seemed proper to encourage a young woman to go to school.

“I am, but I can come back on the weekends to visit.”

“To visit me or a giant TV?”

Wendy smiled wider, her arms still spread, as if she were hugging that future TV.

Well, at least Morgen would have a babysitter if she needed one. Admittedly, a somewhat distracted babysitter.

The buzz of the chainsaw started up again, reminding Morgen of her mission. After rubbing Napoleon’s belly, she headed outside. Lucky was snuffling at a hole he’d dug under one of the garden beds, his tail wagging excitedly as he tried to lure out whatever had made a home down there.

The rain had stopped, and twilight was approaching. The exterior barn lamps shed light on Amar and the stump where he carved his sculptures from logs, but he would have to call it a night soon.

Even though fall had fully come, and the leaves on the deciduous trees in Wolf Wood were turning color, Amar hadn’t made any changes to his wardrobe. He still roamed around in boots, jeans, and a black leather vest that left his muscular arms—and a good portion of his chest—on display. This evening, he wasn’t even wearing that. The piece he was working on, a bear standing upright among boulders and clumps of grass while holding a mailbox, must have been taxing, for he was vestless, his skin gleaming with sweat.

Morgen couldn’t help but pause and admire him, bedroom thoughts encroaching on her mind. Sian’s words about Amar’s virility popped into her head, and she snorted. Still, Morgen couldn’t deny that he was virile. Oh, she had no idea about sperm counts and the like, but he was the most exciting romantic partner she’d ever had. Her ex-husband had been staid and unimaginative in comparison. Admittedly, she’d always considered herself to have similar tastes in the bedroom… until she’d fallen for a wild werewolf who’d taught her to howl.

Amar must have sensed her watching him, for he turned off the chainsaw and faced her. Morgen attempted to wipe off whatever lustful expression she might have been wearing; they needed to have a serious conversation first.

But Amar, wood-dust clinging to his bare skin, eyed her up and down, a smile curving his lips, as if he also had lustful thoughts in mind. Maybe they could have the conversation after a night of lovemaking.

Hoots came from the nesting box in the cedar where Zorro made his home. It must have grown dark enough to stir up his hunting instincts, for he sprang from his perch, wings flapping. Though Zorro could have arrowed off in any direction, he flew directly toward Morgen and Amar.

Aware of how irreverent her owl was, Morgen stepped back. Amar squinted up and also stepped back. Owl droppings splattered to the ground where he’d been standing.

“I made him that nesting box,” Amar growled as Zorro continued off toward the woods. “You’d think he would be grateful.”

“At least he doesn’t go in your barn anymore and defecate on your woodworking projects.”

“Only because I keep the windows and doors secured. He sneaked in last week and molted on my blanket.” Amar waved toward the loft apartment in the barn, though he usually slept in the house with Morgen now.

“You mean on that dreadful bear hide you call a blanket?”

“It’s warm, cozy, and perfect for a werewolf.”

“It’s scratchy, heavy, and used to be perfect for a bear.”

“I caught and ate that bear. He was delicious.” He smiled at her, showing off his teeth.

Since he appeared normal as a human, if extremely athletic and fit, it was only in her imagination that long fangs leered from his gums. Her wild wolf man.

“I’m glad you weren’t forced to consume a poor-tasting bear to get that hide.”

“I was not.” Amar set down his chainsaw and walked to her, clasping her hands. “It has been some time since you visited my apartment. Perhaps you’ve forgotten how appealing the hide is.”

“It’s loathsome, but I haven’t forgotten how appealing you are.”

“Good,” he rumbled, gripped her waist with both hands, and kissed her.

Morgen leaned into him, bedroom thoughts returning, and she almost forgot what she’d come out here to talk to him about. In truth, she had a number of things she needed to bring up with him, such as that she’d leased a building without consulting him first. They’d talked about getting such a place, but she should have waited until he had a look at it. The smug Ungar walking in and delivering insinuations had prompted her into an impulsive decision.

Though reluctant to do so, Morgen made herself break the kiss and put a hand on his chest.

“I need to, uhm, warn you about a couple of things,” she said.

“That dinner will be late because we’re going to have hot passionate sex?”

“That would be true.” She patted him, appreciating the powerful contours under her palm. “But let me give you my news first.”

“Very well.”

“First, I’ve leased an old tannery in town. I should have brought you to see it before signing anything, and I apologize for not doing so. I did, at least, get a good deal on it.” Morgen described the building and how much woodworking equipment could fit into it while omitting mention of the chalk outline, the strange metal statue, and the meat hooks. She did feel compelled to admit that cleaning it up would be a lot of work. “Is there any chance your pack would like to help us do a few renovations there?”

Amar lifted his chin. “It is likely I can handle any necessary renovations by myself, but if you make them something useful for their hunts, they may be inclined to help again. They have decided you are one of the pack.” He smiled and brushed his fingers along her cheek, always pleased that she had helped out the Lobos, even though she was a witch.

The antagonism between the coven and the Lobos had lessened since they had battled together twice, but Morgen doubted they would ever truly cozy up to each other.

“You’ll have to let me know if they need flea-and-tick charms. I’m getting good at those.”

He squinted at her. “Werewolves do not get fleas.”

“Because no flea would dare bite such a mighty creature?”

“Because we bathe.” His squint deepened. “But we are mighty.”

“So I’ve observed.” She smiled and patted his chest again.

He leaned in, kissing clearly on his mind.

“Uhm.” She held a finger to his lips, though she was also tempted to let the kissing take over. “That was only the first part of my news. I was just up in the bathroom, and I found out…”

She met his gaze, his blue eyes content as he continued to hold her waist, his smile promising that they would soon spend the evening enjoying each other’s company. And why shouldn’t he be content? Amar had few worries to concern him now, other than Morgen’s looming tax bill. He’d promised to help her with that, since they were partners now. Partners in life and business. And… soon to be parenting?

Would he want that? Or would it come too soon and force them into something they weren’t ready for? Force him into something he wasn’t ready for?

What if he ran off into the woods and didn’t come back, and she found herself a single mother at forty—soon to be forty-one? Trying to figure out everything by herself while struggling to start a business because she’d given up her old, steady life in Seattle, her good-paying career as a database programmer.

Panic welled up in her, and she froze, fear keeping her from sharing what she wanted—needed—to with Amar.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I…” Morgen told herself that he would understand, that he would be supportive. It wasn’t as if either of them had made a mistake and been careless. He wouldn’t run away. He was loyal. Already, he’d stood at her side countless times in battle. It wasn’t fair of her to think he would run off because she might be pregnant. It would be fine. She took a deep breath to continue, but the words that came out were, “My brothers may be coming up to visit.”

“Your brothers?” Maybe Amar had read the anxiety in her face, because his brow furrowed, as if he’d expected her to bring up something… bigger.

“Yes. I didn’t invite them, but apparently, they heard about my new witch life from Zoe—my cousin, remember her?—and they’re concerned.”

“Becoming a witch is concerning.”

“Ha ha.” She swatted him on the chest. “Their opinion doesn’t technically matter—I don’t even see them that often—but I’d prefer they not give me a hard time about the choices I’ve made these past months. If they show up, will you do me a favor and be on good behavior? I don’t want to have to listen to them trying to convince me to go back to Seattle and my old life.”

“Good behavior?”

“Like don’t growl at them. And maybe wear clothing.” Morgen brushed sawdust off his chest and smiled, though she was already starting to doubt her request. She liked that Amar was who and what he was. Asking him to try to pass himself off as some normal person, just so her relationship with her brothers would be easier, wasn’t right.

At least he didn’t seem offended. His eyelids drooped, and he caught her hand before it could go far, pressing it against his pecs. “I believe you like it when I don’t wear clothing.”

“I do, though it does concern me that you wield a chainsaw without wearing any safety equipment. What if you cut off an important part?” She glanced down at his crotch before she caught herself, blushed, then waved her free hand toward his fingers. “Like a thumb.”

“I am a capable craftsman. My important parts are not in danger.” Amar pulled her closer to him, all of his parts pressing up against hers. “Your family will appreciate that I am a mighty werewolf and am protecting you.”

Morgen doubted they would, but she did, and when Amar’s lips found hers again, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. Of their own accord, her hands slid up to grip his shoulders. The rest of what she wanted to discuss could wait until morning. Tonight, they would enjoy each other’s company, especially if she could lure him back to her bedroom and her vegan blanket collection.

Amar slid a hand around to grab her butt, then hoisted her into his arms, prepared to carry her inside. Unfortunately, that movement awakened the nausea in her stomach. It came on with alarming intensity, and she swatted his shoulder.

“I need to get down.”

“What?” His brow furrowed in puzzlement.

“Please,” she panted, the nausea intensifying. “Let me down.”

He lowered her to her feet. At first, she took a step toward the house and the bathroom, but her stomach promised she wouldn’t make it that far. Instead, she ran around the corner of the barn, stumbled into the shadows, and threw up.

Damn it, wasn’t pregnancy supposed to involve morning sickness? She was positive she hadn’t heard accounts from her friends with kids about breaking off in the middle of lovemaking to vomit.

Hands gripping her knees as she spewed the remains of her lunch into the grass, Morgen was aware of Amar peering around the corner of the barn with concern in his eyes.

When she finished, she wiped her mouth and staggered toward him, though now, going to the bathroom and grabbing her toothbrush was on her mind instead of kissing.

“You are sick?” He rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Sort of.” She looked at his chest, struggling to lift her gaze to his eyes. “I mean, I’m not sure yet.”

“You’re not sure if you’re sick?” He looked toward the grass that she’d defiled.

“Not exactly. I’m… going to make an appointment to see my doctor, so I won’t be sure until then, but I took a home test, and there’s a possibility that… you haven’t been eating enough soy.”

“What?”

Morgen rolled her eyes at herself. “You could be too virile. And I could be pregnant.”