Spawned By The Dragon: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance

  SPAWNED

  BY THE DRAGON

  A PARANORMAL PREGNANCY ROMANCE

  AMIRA RAIN

  Copyright ©2016 by Amira Rain

  All rights reserved.

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  About This Book

  Having a baby after a one night stand was not something that Alyssa Clark had ever planned for but it was something she had grown to accept.

  Having lost contact with the father Gavin, Alyssa had been raising baby Tommy all by herself.

  However, Alyssa had no idea that the father was a WereDragon and that meant that Tommy would have inherited his abilities too.

  Now with shady men coming after her wanting custody of the baby, Alyssa has no choice but to run, hide and hope her handsome WereDragon lover can come to her rescue....

  This is a Paranormal Romance with excitement and adventure intertwined with sensual and adult scenes. Please only read with these themes interest you!

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  No way in hell was I going to let them take my two-year-old son. I was going to protect him or die trying. Tommy and I were going to have to escape the apartment down the fire escape, and I knew this was my only choice. There was a problem with that, though. I had no idea if additional government agents were already watching the side of the building and would be waiting for us the moment I stepped off the fire escape stairs. And the possibility of this was a risk I just couldn't afford to take. However, I couldn't just open the apartment door and tear right past the agents there, either.

  I needed some kind of a diversion. Something that would make any and all government agents in the area swarm around to the front of the building, so that I could be completely unseen as I headed down the stairs with Tommy. Then, if we could make it to the nearby parking lot and my car, we'd be home free. Hopefully, anyway.

  While I fought panic, trying to think of a diversion, one of the agents pounded on the door again and said essentially the same thing he'd said just a short time earlier. "Please open up, Ms. Clark. We just want to talk to you about your son. That's all."

  The way he said all made me certain that he and his fellow agents wanted to do more than just talk. They wanted to take Tommy. I was sure of it. They wanted to take him to Washington, D.C, where they'd do all sorts of experiments on him, and where they'd probably contain him for the rest of his life, maybe even deciding to have him killed at some point.

  I'd heard things that had made me think this would be the ultimate outcome of me opening my apartment door. They would take Tommy. If I did, and if the agents and I had a little talk, I was certain they'd tell me what they'd told the other mothers that I'd heard about, which was that I couldn't come with my son, and that was for the good of the nation. It was all for the good of the nation, they'd say. They'd welcome me to come visit Tommy on occasion. They'd offer me financial compensation, millions of dollars, just for doing my "patriotic duty." They'd tell me Tommy would be happy.

  I'd been expecting the agents to come knocking; I just hadn't expected them to come so soon. It had actually only been a few hours since I'd gotten the call from the daycare, the call basically informing me that my toddler son was a dragon shifter, or likely would be one someday.

  In a shaky, incredibly rattled-sounding voice, Marianne, the daycare director, had told me that Tommy had gotten frustrated while trying to unfold and spread a blanket on his cot for nap time, and "bursts of white light" had suddenly "just shot right out from his body, all over."

  Seconds later, his skin had turned charcoal-gray and scaly, though just briefly. Then, when all was back to normal, Tommy had burst into tears, calling to his two astonished classroom teachers for help, clearly terrified. Though Marianne hadn't been in the room at the time, she'd seen everything on a classroom video monitor.

  "I know you'll want to come get him, Alyssa," she'd said. "But just know that once we hang up, I have another phone call to make. It's a federal crime not to report child shifters now, you know, and being a single mom myself, I just can't risk going to jail."

  She started to say something else, but I ended the call and pocketed my phone, already flying out of the gymnastics and fitness center where I worked. I was supposed to soon teach a Pilates class, but I called out to the center secretary that she was going to have to call everyone and cancel.

  "And please cancel my afternoon classes, too, unless you can call in someone to sub! There's an emergency with my son, and I won't be back today!"

  And probably not ever, I thought. I knew I had to take Tommy somewhere far away.

  After grabbing him from the daycare, finding him still kind of whimpering and upset about what had happened, I'd rushed home with him and had started packing, thinking that we'd probably at least have the whole day, since I figured it would take that long for government agents to make it up to Michigan from Washington. However, now it was clear that there had to be government agents in Lansing or Detroit as well, in order for them to have come so fast. Either that or agents from Washington had immediately hopped on a jet or something.

  Tommy and I should have already been gone, and now with agents pounding on the door, I cringed because we weren't. In fact, when the first knock had sounded, I hadn't even been quite finished packing yet. I'd first been delayed by Tommy vomiting all over himself, possibly due to still being upset.

  I'd had to give him a bath; then he hadn't wanted me to let him go, so I'd rocked him to sleep in my arms. While he’d been napping, I'd packed some things, but when he'd woken up, he'd wanted to be held again, slowing my progress. I hadn't been that concerned about wasting precious minutes, thinking that we'd likely still be safe even if we left the apartment around dinnertime.

  Besides, I'd wanted to get a hold of my brother DJ and his wife Mandy before we left town. I just wanted to say goodbye, since I figured we probably wouldn't see them for a very long time, maybe even decades. They were Tommy's and my only family members, and we were all very close.

  I'd been calling both of them every half-hour or so, just about since the moment Tommy and I gotten home, but I hadn't reached either of them. Mandy was prone to migraine headaches and often shut off her phone when she had one so that she could rest. I figured maybe that's why her phone had been going straight to voice mail.

  DJ's phone had just been ringing and ringing before going to voice mail, though this also wasn't unusual at all. He was a bit absentminded, and often forgot his phone at home when he left in the
morning, or forgot it in his tiny office in the motorcycle repair shop he owned just two blocks from my apartment.

  No matter which was the case on this day, when I'd called the shop, his employee Bill had said that he hadn't even seen DJ since about ten that morning, when DJ had said he was going out to look for junkyard parts for a particular older model of motorcycle they were repairing. Bill had no idea where the several junkyards in the area DJ might be, or if he'd gone to do a different errand, not that it mattered. Needing to finish packing, I hadn't wanted to leave my apartment and waste time trying to hunt him down.

  Now in the present, with the agents pounding on my apartment door and Tommy whimpering in my arms, I decided to try DJ one last time, though now not just to say goodbye. I needed help. With my panic intensifying, I just couldn't think, just couldn't come up with any diversion or way that I might be able to leave the apartment with Tommy and get to my car unseen.

  Mercifully, as if fate had finally decided to help me, DJ answered his phone on the first ring this time, and I started talking right away, words coming so fast they almost blended together.

  "Deej, I need your help. Too long to explain everything, but Tommy's a shifter child. It happened at daycare today. All I can think of is that his dad must have been a shifter, but he didn't tell me. Doesn't matter now, though.

  Government agents are at the door here at my apartment, and they want Tommy. I need to be able to get him away, but the agents might be watching the fire escape exit, too, even right now. I don't know what to do. I need some way to get any agents watching that exit to move away from the parking lot, so I can-"

  "Give me sixty seconds. You know I know how to wreck a bike without getting hurt. I'll crash into the fountain. I'll pretend I'm drowning and call out for help, loud enough so that any agents watching the fire escape outside will hear me. Just watch out your east windows, and when you see a crowd gather, hit the fire escape with Tommy.

  And obviously, take your car out the back of the lot. Drive to Bill's. In the driveway, we've got an old gray sedan that we started working on yesterday. It's got plates, but hasn't been registered in years, meaning they won't be looking for it, and you. Keys are in the visor. It won't get you across the country in the state it's in, but it'll get you a few hundred miles, and that's probably good enough for right now. Just drive and get Tommy away. I'll call as soon as I can, and we'll figure out a plan more long-term."

  DJ fell silent, and I heard a loud motorcycle engine roar to life.

  "Headin' your way now. Get to the east windows and watch, then make a break for it and be as safe as you can be. Love you, sis."

  It was these last three words that made my eyes prickle, and I choked out a response over a lump in my throat. "Love you, too, Deej...and thank you."

  Not a minute later, with poor fussing Tommy on my hip and a giant duffel bag over my shoulder, and with the agents still pounding on my door, shouting, I watched from the east windows while DJ crashed an old, faded black motorcycle into an enormous park fountain across from the apartment building. He'd been going along at a pretty decent rate of speed, and the sound of the impact, all crumpling metal and crunching stone, was nearly as loud as two cars colliding. With a wild yell that I hoped was just to gain attention, DJ sailed over the motorcycle and plunged into the gurgling waters of the stone fountain.

  I prayed that he hadn't been hurt, but I didn't think he had been. In his "past, bad dream life," as he always described it, he'd been a Hollywood stuntman, crashing motorcycles and cars for a living. The crash he'd just done, ramming into the stone fountain hard enough to nearly fold the motorcycle in half, looked similar to a crash he'd done in the last movie he'd been featured in, right before a real-life car accident had given him a few injuries requiring prescription painkillers.

  He'd soon become addicted, and his life had taken a very bad, dark turn. Finally clean after two long years, he'd moved back to our family hometown of Sandstone just in time for his baby nephew's arrival. Not too long after, he'd opened the bike shop and had reconnected with Mandy, his former high school sweetheart.

  At their wedding four months later, DJ had told me that he'd never been happier, and he thanked me for never giving up on him during his "dark times," going on to say that he'd always do anything for me and Tommy to repay the favor. I had a feeling he'd never thought that would include crashing a motorcycle to divert the attention of government agents, though I was certainly grateful that he'd been willing to go that far.

  Yelling, he flailed around in the fountain for several seconds before going under the water and staying under. A woman with two small children fairly nearby screamed for help and began tearing over the bright green grass to the fountain with a child on each hip.

  On my own hip, Tommy pressed his little face against the window screen, eyes wide, gazing across the street, on the fountain. "Oh no, Mama!"

  "It's okay, baby. Uncle DJ is just fine. He's just pretending, so that we can get away from those men pounding on our door."

  "Those men" still hadn't stopped, probably not having heard the crash at all from inside the building. In fact, they'd suddenly began pounding and shouting even louder, clearly losing patience with my refusal to answer the door.

  In response to what I'd said about his Uncle DJ being just fine, Tommy's expression of alarm became one of horror, and he pointed to the fountain. "That Unca Zee-zay?"

  Tommy's pronunciation of Uncle DJ as "Unca Zee-zay" usually never failed to melt my heart, although at present, I was far too distracted for the cuteness to even register. A pickup truck and two cars had stopped next to the park, and people were piling out and running toward the fountain, cell phones on ears. These people weren't my focus, though. Two men in black suits were. They'd come from around the side of the building, where the fire escape was, and they were now running across the street to the park, where the woman with the two kids was still screaming for help.

  "Okay, sweetie. Uncle DJ's plan worked. Time for us to go."

  Heart pounding, I began dashing through the apartment with Tommy on my hip and my large duffel bag bouncing on my back. Tommy fussed and whimpered, saying "too fast," but I didn't dare slow down, knowing we probably only had mere seconds before the fire escape agents returned to their post. We had maybe a minute at most, I figured.

  After all, I knew DJ couldn't remain submerged forever and had probably even been pulled out of the fountain by this time, and I was pretty certain that once the agents confirmed that 911 had been called, they'd rush right back across the street.

  Half a minute after stepping out onto the fire escape, I'd made it down the three flights of steel stairs. Half a minute after that, I was buckling Tommy into his car seat, whipping my head up every couple of seconds to look out the back window to see if the agents were yet returning to the parking lot. By the time I pulled out the back exit of the parking lot, there was still no sign of them.

  Bill's house was only about two miles away, in a wooded, fairly secluded part of town, and my heart rate finally started to slow once we got there. After a quick transfer of Tommy, his car seat, and my large duffel bag to the old gray sedan DJ had spoken of, Tommy and I were on the road again, heading north out of Sandstone, the only town I'd ever called home.

  With a population of about thirteen thousand people, sometimes the town had seemed dull and too small to me during my teen years and early twenties, but after I'd had Tommy, I'd started to actually love the town, thinking it was just the perfect-sized town to raise a child.

  It also had numerous beautiful parks, several fishing streams and small lakes, and a vast, hundred-year-old, two-story library with Italian marble floors, solid mahogany woodwork, and gilded lighting fixtures, making it an unusually opulent asset for a town built primarily on manufacturing.

  Now with Sandstone in the rear view mirror, I felt a tug on my heart while I thought of everything and everyone Tommy and I were leaving behind. And, of course, it was the everyone that was most important. It
was DJ and Mandy, and all our close family friends, some of them people DJ and I had known since we were born.

  It was all the teachers at Tommy's daycare-slash-preschool that loved him, and it was all the sweet little friends he looked forward to seeing every day. It was my boss Betty, who I considered a good friend, all the women I'd taught Pilates and yoga to for years, all the girls I coached at the gymnastics center, and all the cheerleaders I coached at the local high school.

  It was everyone, the whole community, and that was what Tommy and I were leaving behind. Community. Family. A sense of home and security. Driving down the sun-drenched rural road just a couple of miles above the speed limit, I reminded myself that it was all to save my precious Tommy.

  Occupied eating a baggie of goldfish crackers I'd given him at the apartment, he'd been quiet on the way to Bill's, and quiet since we'd taken off in the sedan, but he now suddenly called up to me, as if he'd just remembered something.

  "Mama! Mama, Unca Zee-zay...he got...." Tommy paused, as he often did when trying to think of a word, then continued in a shaky, near-to-tears sort of voice. "He got hurt."

  "No...he didn't, baby, remember? He was just pretending...just playing a game with his motorcycle so that we could get away from those loud men knocking on our door. They weren't good men, so Uncle DJ wanted to help us go away in the car. He wasn't hurt, though. He's just fine."

  I hoped so, anyway, though something about the exaggerated sort of way he'd been flailing around in the fountain, moving his whole body easily, told me that he was probably just fine.

  Seeming convinced by the response I'd just given him, Tommy went back to munching on his goldfish crackers, but he soon spoke quietly, his voice barely audible above the rumble of the old sedan's engine. "Mama, something bad happen...at daycare."