Wild: Hangman's Haunt Book 1 by Kay Elle Parker

Author:Kay Elle Parker [Parker, Kay Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kay Elle Parker
Published: 2018-02-24T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The nearer they came to their destination, the more Baylee withdrew into herself. Daxon worried over it as he drove, one hand on the wheel and the other holding Baylee’s. Their conversation dwindled to almost nothing, no matter how many openings her gave her.

They’d been fine, he thought with a frown, after the tryst with Big D. She’d come, hard, and not only on the vibrator. The sight of her arching, screaming his name, had brought out his territorial instincts and given him no choice but to fuck her past her limit.

She’d been drowsy, compliant, when he’d carried her to the bathroom and bathed her. She’d all but curled into a ball in the bed as he applied cream gently to her sore bottom—a job he would never complain about. Then she’d curled into him, her legs tangled in his, her face pressed to his chest as she fell asleep.

They only had a few more miles before they left Idaho, and Baylee’s keen interest in her surroundings faded with each tire rotation. No more eager peering, no keen studying of the passing landscape. She simply brought her knees up, resting her heels on the edge of her seat, and rested her head against her legs.

Disturbed, Daxon wondered frantically if he’d hurt her, physically or mentally, and cursed himself for losing his temper. She carried his cubs now, and he needed to remember that. It didn’t make her fragile, he reminded himself, but it did make her vulnerable. Cubs were precious gifts to a clan such as his; it meant the lineage would continue, and that a bound couple’s love would last.

His clan didn’t believe in divorce or separation. The bond was it. For life unto death, that couple would be each other’s world. And when cubs were involved...that took commitment to a whole other level.

Signs for Jackpot popped up; Daxon decided it was a good time to stop and refuel—both the truck and his lover. Shifter pregnancies used up as much, if not more calories and energy than the process itself. Barren females had to eat regularly to keep their strength up to shift, and in almost obscene proportions.

A pregnant female could expect to double, even triple that daily intake. By those standards, Baylee hadn’t consumed nearly enough in the past few days to keep her new system supplied with sustenance.

The solution appeared twenty minutes later; a roadside diner with a handful of motorcycles—Harley Davidsons, Daxon noted with a touch of jealousy—and enough vehicles to make the place look busy. Busy was good, busy meant good trade. Good, fattening food.

He pulled into a space in front of the diner, switched off the engine. Something in him sank in dread when Baylee made no move to look around, or ask him where they were, why they’d stopped. Her head never lifted from her knees.

“Baylee?”

She stirred as though waking, her head rising a couple inches. Her blue eyes looked dull, her skin pale and clammy. Daxon reached out, touched her forehead; she burned hotter than seven suns, one of the signs of pregnancy.

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