Spawned By The Dragon: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance Read online

  About a minute after I’d first seen the dragon, it began descending, then flew over the house, black and massive, with a tail possibly as long as its considerable wingspan. With this image in my mind, I finally got back in bed, where I resumed my earlier position of staring up at the ceiling. Beside me, Tommy snored quietly, so quietly as to almost be inaudible, and after a short while, even though I didn’t want to wake him up, I wasn’t able to resist lightly smoothing his soft, dark brown hair a couple of times, studying his chubby cheeks in the moonlight with my heart melting.

  I’d just put my hand back down by my side when I heard the sound of heavy boots coming up the hallway. They passed the bedroom, continuing on down to the easternmost bedroom, and soon I heard that bedroom door shut.

  Turning my face toward Tommy, I spoke in the quietest possible whisper. “Daddy’s home.”

  Even though I had no idea where Gavin and I stood, and where he and Tommy stood, it had just felt good to say the words.

  CHAPTER 12

  The next morning, Tommy and I bathed and dressed, then made our way down to the kitchen, where we found one of the daytime maids, a friendly, middle-aged woman named Denise, getting out things for breakfast. After introducing herself, she said she’d been thinking we might be down soon, and asked if we’d like bacon and eggs, or something else.

  Not ever having had a maid cook breakfast for me before, and feeling slightly uncomfortable about it, I thanked Denise but told her she didn’t have to cook. “I like cooking, and I don’t mind doing it myself at all.”

  “Nonsense,” Denise said. “You shouldn’t have to do it yourself. That’s part of what we maids are here for. The commander has a professional cook for when he’s entertaining, but for daily meals, it’s usually me during the daytime, and Ella for dinner. We have other maids to help us with all the household cleaning and other tasks, so we don’t mind doing the cooking, too, at all.”

  I told Denise that it was just that I’d never been waited on before and felt slightly uncomfortable about it, when I was perfectly capable of cooking myself. Denise insisted that a guest of the commander “shouldn’t have to lift a finger.”

  Finally, after going back-and-forth for a minute, we came to a sort of compromise. She’d cook just this one breakfast for Tommy and me, then give me the main staff number, which was a phone number that would contact the head shift maid during the day or Ella in the evening.

  Anytime I wanted food prepared, day or night, or anytime I needed anything else at all, I was to call this number, which would ring a particular phone that either she or Ella always carried on their respective shifts. On weekends, I was to call the same number to reach the weekend maids.

  Though doubtful I’d be making many calls, I liked this arrangement. Denise, however did have one caveat.

  “At least please continue to allow Ella to make dinner most nights. With a small child, you shouldn’t have to worry about it. Though if you want to make dinner some nights, that’s perfectly fine, but how about unless Ella hears from you, she’ll go ahead and cook. She normally has the evening meal ready right around seven, unless the commander lets her know he won’t be home.”

  I said this sounded good to me, and Denise soon set about cooking, getting Tommy a little step stool when he asked if he could crack the eggs, which he’d always loved doing and had actually gotten pretty good at for a two-year-old. Denise remarked about this, telling Tommy he was an “amazing helper,” and he covered his face with his hands, grinning, clearly pleased but a bit bashful about the praise.

  After serving us bacon, eggs, toast, and fruit at the table, Denise said she was heading off to do some cleaning in the west wing, but to call if we needed anything. “And don’t you dare load the dishwasher or clean up in any way, Miss Clark. I’ll be back.”

  With a sigh, I began stirring a spoonful of sugar in my coffee. “For the third time, Denise, please call me Alyssa. Since you insisted that I call you by your first name, it’s not right if you call me Miss. Okay? Please. I’ve never had maids before, and I just want to be friends with you all. And as far as the dishwasher, I’m definitely loading it, and I’m cleaning up the counters, too. I wasn’t raised to leave huge messes everywhere.”

  With a snort, Denise shook her head, making her salt-and-pepper-colored bob swing. “You’re a difficult one, aren’t you?”

  I smiled, picking up my coffee mug. “You can call me whatever you want, except a person comfortable being waited on hand-and-foot.”

  “Well, you may have to get used to a few things in this house. I wonder what you’re going to think about your security detail if you want to explore town today.”

  “My what?”

  “Your security detail. We have our own version of the secret service here in the FDS, and Commander Iverson has ordered that at least two of them are near you and Tommy at all times when the two of you are out of the house, and two even if just you yourself leave alone. The protection agents won’t be intrusive, but…they won’t be far. Commander Iverson also has numerous protection agents, all shifters, of course, stationed around the mansion and grounds.”

  After taking a sip, I set my coffee mug back on the table. “Where is Gavin, by the way? Do you know if he’ll be joining Tommy and me for breakfast?”

  I hadn’t heard even the slightest noise from his room while Tommy and I had been getting dressed, and I hadn’t been sure if that meant he was still sleeping, or had already left the house.

  Denise said that unfortunately, he wouldn’t be joining Tommy and me. “He actually left the house just a minute or two after I started my shift, at seven. Apparently, Lieutenant Gray called him with some news about Traitor trouble to the north. They’ll probably be gone all day, I’ll bet.”

  “Who’s Lieutenant Gray? And what’s ‘Traitor trouble?’”

  “Oh, Lieutenant Gray is Commander Iverson’s right-hand man. And Traitor trouble is just what we say when the dragons up north, who we simply refer to as the Traitors, start acting up, usually flying too close to our ‘airspace’ for Commander Iverson’s comfort, or even sometimes flying right into our airspace, trying to spy, as I think was the case this morning.”

  Pausing, Denise pulled out a chair and had a seat, smoothing her navy-and-white uniform dress over her ample stomach. “See, I don’t know how much you know about various situations here in the FDS, but the few thousand dragons up north, led by a one Cameron Asher, tried to overthrow Commander Bledsoe and his government about three years ago. They all thought that Commander Bledsoe had made a mistake in ‘just’ taking the U.P from the United States, and they thought that with Asher in the position of commander-in-chief, they could start another war and demand more land from the Americans, killing thousands until they got what they wanted.

  Asher wasn’t successful in his bid to take over the FDS, thank God; however, very sadly, Commander Bledsoe was killed in battle before his men could drive Asher and his men north. Later, their families were permitted to join them there, and Commander Iverson gave them a very generous choice. Either stay contained to an area of land that he gave them to have for their own completely autonomous region, never setting foot or wing in the FDS, or take the Canadian government up on their offer to gift the Traitors with a small, uninhabited island to have pretty much for their own, on ‘permanent free lease’ from the government.”

  “And all the Traitors chose to stay in the FDS?”

  Denise nodded. “Every last one of them. They all feel that the FDS should be theirs, and that they should be able to take over America, too, and basically enslave all citizens. Which has slightly warmed relations between the FDS and the US in recent years, since the Americans realize that it’s now Commander Iverson and his fighters between them and a bunch of dark-hearted shifters further north.

  "The Canadians are also leery of the Traitors, and rightfully so; so Commander Iverson has a permanent army of several thousand of his shifters stationed just across Lake Superior, entrusted with the task of ma
king sure that the Traitors don’t ever leave Darkwood, which is what the Traitors call their turf, en masse to try to attack the Canadians.

  Very small groups of Traitors, however, are allowed to pass into Canada on a regular schedule, to get basic essentials of living that the Canadian government generously gifts to them, primarily so that their women and children don’t starve because of the criminal, isolating actions that their men committed during their failed takeover of the FDS.”

  Listening to Denise with rapt attention, I was mildly startled when Tommy suddenly shrieked beside me.

  “Uh-oh! Mama, look!”

  Tommy had dropped a half-eaten slice of cantaloupe on the floor, and was now scrambling down from a stack of cushions Denise had set on his chair for a booster seat.

  She bounced up from her seat, telling Tommy not to worry, that she’d get him a new slice. “And, Alyssa, I apologize. I’ve been keeping you from your breakfast, and I also just rudely sat right down without even thinking to ask your permission. You’re just too easy to talk to, which is definitely a compliment. I’ve worked in this house since the very first day the FDS was established, and I’ve waited on a few guests so standoffish I’ve been half-afraid to utter a peep around them.

  In fact, you remind me a lot of Lieutenant Gray’s wife, Nina. I took a ceramics class with her, and have done a little babysitting for her. She’s very kind and friendly, just like you, and her little girl is about Tommy’s age. If you’d like, I can give her a call and see if she’d like to meet you and Tommy in town for lunch today.”

  I said I’d love that, and after getting Tommy a new melon slice, Denise made the call right then, reporting after hanging up that Nina said she’d be thrilled to meet me.

  “She said she’ll be at Pirate Cove at noon. It’s a pirate-themed restaurant geared toward families with kids. It has a ball pit for the kids to jump around in, ‘pirate ship’ rides, and a lot of other fun stuff.”

  Denise soon left, and I got back to breakfast with Tommy. When we were both nearly finished, I had a sudden thought that made me gasp.

  “Oh, my gosh! DJ!”

  Despite the surprising events that had occurred since getting to the FDS, I absolutely couldn’t believe that he hadn’t crossed my mind before then. Feeling horribly guilty, I reached in my pocket to whip out my phone to call him, telling Tommy that we needed to check to make sure Uncle DJ was okay, and let him know that we were, too.

  However, my hand met only pocket, and I remembered that I’d destroyed my phone the day before, when Tommy and I had been on the run. Furthermore, now that I was recalling the events of the previous day, I wondered if calling DJ would even be a good idea, being that his phone was probably now being monitored by the feds. I certainly didn’t want to get him in any more trouble than he was already possibly in.

  At the same time, though, I realized that the feds didn’t yet know that Tommy was Gavin’s child. And once they did find out, being that they apparently wanted to keep up their new “thawing” relationship with Gavin and the FDS, I was just guessing that all with my escape and everyone involved would be forgiven.

  Needing some advice, and also a phone to use, I soon went searching for Denise with Tommy in tow, and found her dusting in the ballroom. When I explained that I needed a phone to possibly call my brother, she gasped even louder than I had when remembering DJ.

  “I completely forgot, Alyssa! I’m so very sorry. First, I forgot to give you a spare phone that Commander Iverson wanted me to give to you. His number is already programmed in it so the two of you can stay in touch while he’s gone, and the main staff number is already programmed in at as well, under Denise-slash-Ella.

  Second, I forgot that the commander told me to tell you that he was already in contact with the United States government last night, telling them that Tommy is his son, and that you and Tommy are citizens of the FDS now, and that he will be very, very displeased if anyone who helped the two of you flee the United States is prosecuted for anything related to that. And as the US isn’t wanting to make an enemy of Commander Iverson at the moment, I don’t think they’ll be trying to cross him by going against what he said, if it is the case that anyone helped you.”

  I heaved a sigh of profound relief. “My brother did.”

  Denise fished around in one of her pockets and handed me a sleek black phone. “Here. Give him a call.”

  After heading back down to the kitchen to have a little privacy for the call, I dialed the motorcycle shop number since I had it memorized from a commercial jingle that was frequently played on a local radio station.

  As if he’d been waiting for me to call, DJ answered on the first ring, immediately asking if Tommy and I were okay once he heard my voice. When I said we were just fine, he expressed relief, then immediately asked another question.

  “Is it true that the commander-in-chief of the FDS is Tommy’s father?”

  Sinking into a chair and pulling Tommy onto my lap, I nodded. “He is, and I just had no idea. I still haven’t had a chance to ask him very many questions yet about everything, and believe me, I have many.”

  We continued talking, and DJ confirmed that he wasn’t in trouble with the feds.

  “They interviewed me at the hospital, and then again later at home, but I just kept saying I had no idea where you were. They left, but then came back in the evening with phone records, yours and mine, saying that I was ‘busted,’ because they could see that we spoke right before and then after you escaped.

  Mandy had a lawyer at the house by this point, and he told the feds that our communication was private and protected by law, since you may have been fleeing but you hadn’t been charged with any federal crime prior, and they had no legal right to question me further.

  "Apparently, this lawyer wasn’t completely up on his federal law, though, because some fed lawyer soon showed up with all sorts of papers and federal orders and all this other stuff saying that they had full rights to haul me down to Washington to ‘detain’ me for ‘further questioning.’ So, they put me in custody, took me to some little airport an hour or so south, where their private jet was, and off we went in the jet, heading to Washington.

  But, then, after we’d been in the air for a while, the head guy gets a call, then talks to the pilot, and next thing I know, we’re heading north again. ‘You’re damned lucky,’ the head guy says. ‘Your sister made it to the FDS, and her son’s father is Commander Iverson, whom we don’t want to piss off,’ or something like that.”

  I told DJ I was so sorry for what he’d had to go through and for what I was sure Mandy had had to go through seeing her husband taken into custody by the feds, but DJ said to not even think about it.

  “You and Tommy are okay, and that’s all that matters.”

  Soon Tommy began whining to talk to “Unca Zee-zay,” and I put DJ on speaker. Melting my heart, Tommy said hi, then immediately asked DJ if he was okay. DJ said he was just fine, and Tommy frowned.

  “You fell down…fell down on bike. Unca Zee-zay hurt. I…I sad.”

  Sounding just as touched by Tommy’s concern for his well-being as I was, DJ explained that he hadn’t been hurt at all.

  “No boo-boos. Not even one. Uncle DJ is just fine.”

  “No owie?”

  “Not a single owie. I promise. No owies.”

  Seemingly convinced, Tommy changed the subject, curling up in my arms. “Unca Zee-zay, uh-oh man talk to Mama. Big uh-oh man. Big, big one.”

  “Who talked to Mama?”

  Knowing Tommy wouldn’t be able to better explain, I jumped in. “He means Gavin. Who is very tall and muscular, so I bet he looks like a giant to Tommy.”

  Just then, I could hear the door chimes ringing in DJ’s shop, and he said he was sorry but he had to go help a customer, because Bill wasn’t in yet. Before hanging up, we promised to talk again soon.

  A little while before noon, Tommy and I stepped out the front door to go to Pirate Cove, and I was surprised to see Chet with anothe
r man standing next to two shiny black cars with tinted windows at the top of the driveway. I’d known that I’d have two “protection agents” with Tommy and me all day, and Denise had said that they’d drive us into town, but I just hadn’t expected one of the agents to be Chet, thinking that he’d be back at his bridge guard post.

  I wasn’t at all disappointed that he wasn’t, though, and in fact, I was glad. I liked his easygoing manner and slight southern accent, and I had a feeling we could become good platonic friends, which I thought might make me feel more at ease about essentially having two bodyguards tailing Tommy and me all day.

  Chet greeted Tommy and me with a smile, and asked if we’d mind having him as one of our protection agents. I smiled, then said of course we wouldn’t, and Chet was pleased.

  “I’ve been a little bored at my post at the bridge lately, so when Commander Iverson called for more protection agents here at the house, I just about jumped at the chance. And I say ‘just about’ because ever since I had my left knee replaced, I really don’t do much jumping if I can help it.”

  I smiled, liking Chet even more already.

  He soon explained that he and his fellow agent, Mark, would each be driving a car to town, since that was just “protection protocol,” so that there would always be some ambiguity about which car Tommy and I were actually in.

  “The commander himself doesn’t even bother doing this, just drives himself around in his own truck when he goes into town, but for you and the little guy, he specifically wanted us to take two cars. Not that there’s any threat to your safety here in Everett, but he’s just being cautious, and understandably so. We have quite an extensive security team guarding the capital and also here in the capital, but just the same, we’re always on high alert for any American spies or Traitor spies who might wish the commander, or anyone he cares about, harm.”

  Since Tommy’s car seat was already in Chet’s car, we rode with him to Pirate Cove, where Tommy shrieked, already trying to break out of his car seat, upon seeing an enormous pirate ship “playhouse,” complete with no fewer than three slides that resembled “planks,” outside the restaurant.