“Willow, in my world when a woman gets sick suddenly it means one thing.”

Willow cocked her head in confusion. Her mind raced to think of the connection between vomiting and shapeshifters. It took about twenty seconds, and then she started laughing so hard tears streamed down her cheeks.

“You think I’m pregnant?” She wheezed in breaths, turning on her side as more laughs came out of her. Lyonis didn’t seem to think it was funny though as he stalked to her and knelt down.

“I don’t think this is very funny, but I do think it’s likely you are.”

Willow’s laughs died in her throat. “You’re being serious?” His expression remained stony. “Oh, come on. I’m not pregnant.”

“How do you know?” he challenged.

Willow opened her mouth, then closed it. She opened it again, then slammed it shut. A flood of panic filled her so fast her mind spun. She thought back to all the times they’d had sex, to the very first time in Europe. He’d come inside her each and every time. How did she never even think about pregnancy? Because you were too busy worrying about being captured.

Oh God. Oh, shit. No, no, no. She couldn’t be pregnant.

But I can be.

“Oh shit, I think I’m gonna be sick.” Willow lurched herself off the coach and ran to the bathroom. As the violent retching happened again, a scary voice in her head sang: you’re having a baby!

Willow had experienced fear before. She’d felt different kinds of fear. She’d felt the tingly feeling as Lyonis stalked towards her with wickedness in his eyes; when a dark demon had stood high above the trees in Germany and roared her name she’d felt the quivering fear of impending death, but none of that compared to what she felt now.

Willow’s jeans wouldn’t button.

A smart woman might think it was because she’d just done the laundry and perhaps they shrunk some, but Willow was not feeling smart. She was feeling hysterical.

Try as she might, no matter how hard she sucked in her belly, her jeans would not fit. With a gargled scream of frustration, she tore the pants off and threw them at the wall.

“Oh, God.” The room spun in circles around her. She plopped down on the bed and closed her eyes until it stopped. “It’s just the laundry. That’s all.”

She heard the front door open and quickly ran to her bag to pull on some yoga pants. Just as she pulled them on Lyonis came into the room, a grim look on his face and a brown paper bag in his hand.

“Here,” he said gruffly and handed it to her.

“What’s this?” She opened the bag and saw a small white box inside. Her eyes bulged then she crushed the bag in her hand and threw it at his face. It bounced off his cheek and fell flatly to the ground.

“You need to take it.”

“A pregnancy test? You’ve got to be kidding me.” She was not pregnant.

Lyonis roughly combed his fingers through his hair. “Yes, you have to take it. We need to know if you’re pregnant.”

Willow gave him the dirtiest look she could muster. “I’m not peeing on that stick because I’m not pregnant.”

His jaw worked left and right. “You can’t be sure of that.”

Willow crossed her arms. “I can.”

“You’ll take that test or—”

“Or what,” she interrupted, “you’ll hold me over the toilet and make me pee?”

He seemed to grow bigger with anger, his body filling up even more of the room. “Fine but what do you plan to do about Amy’s challenge. Once accepted, it can’t be undone. That is unless you’re pregnant.”

Willow perked up at that. “If I’m pregnant then I don’t have to fight the she-bitch?” His lips twitched.

“Right.”

Willow pretended to think it over. “Well I’m not pregnant and I honestly can’t wait to get my hands on her.”

Lyonis was in front of her in a second, his arms banded around her. He was so damn warm it reminded her of being back in Florida. “You’d fight to be my mate?”

Willow choked. Face flushing; she looked anywhere but at him. “That’s not why I’m doing it.”

His laughter was soft and silky as he nuzzled her ear. “Then please enlighten me, mate. Why are you doing it?” Willow’s body softened, melting at his nearness. She closed her eyes and let her head fall to the side as his lips found her neck.

“I, uh, just want to beat her ass.” Again that laughter teased her, taunted her.

“Your response is true of any mate. All fated mates would happily fight for their partner. Have you accepted this, Willow? That you are mine. That you’ll be my wife.” His words were low, coaxing. She had to concentrate or else be lulled in by his hypnotic words.

“No,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I just don’t like her.” His arms swept down her body and cupped her bottom bringing her flush against him.

“I think you’re very wrong, Willow. And I couldn’t be happier about it.”

Willow moaned as he rocked her against him. God, he was always hard around her; she had no idea how he managed it. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit she liked it—lots. It was only because it made her feel powerful. She liked having this control over the big bad Alpha. And while she was mentally admitting things, she loved that he wanted her with such passion. If only she could stand to be with him. She knew what happened once that step was taken though.

“I couldn’t be prouder that you accepted the challenge. Whether you realize it or not, Willow, you’ve taken giant leaps towards becoming my mate.” His hands passed up her back then slid down and slipped under her shirt to play with the skin of her lower back. Willow’s breath caught as her pulse continued to pound louder and louder.

“That reminds me. I’ve heard of this first step. When I hugged you the other day.” Her breath stuttered as he rubbed her hips up and down before one hand covered her bare stomach. “Supposedly when someone hugs another it automatically makes you their mate.”

Lyonis laughed a deep, rough sound, then his teeth caught her lobe. Willow melted; her bones turned to jelly and if not for his arms, she would have slid into a puddle on the floor.

“You know it’s not quite like that. It’s what it signifies, Willow.”

His hot hand scorched a path up her stomach and paused below her breast. Her head shook left and right. Her breasts felt tight and heavy, swollen with only one possibly thing that could alleviate it—his touch.

“What do think it signifies?” She was surprised she could even form words let alone complete a sentence. Her tongue felt thick and heavy, her lips didn’t want to close, and she didn’t stop herself from arching her chest into him.

He didn’t relent nor give in. He continued to rub his thumb back and forth under the cup of her breast, getting closer and closer until he touched scant centimeters from it. Willow sighed and moaned as her breast tightened painfully, her nipple pulling into a tight, frustrated point.

“It signifies, my love, that you will be mine.” She had only a moment to gasp at the word ‘love’ before his mouth came down on hers and his hand molded her breast.

Willow was caught in the sensual web he weaved. Her hands shot into his hair and held on for dear life. His big hand squeezed her breast, never quite touching her aching nipple. Frustration at the possible pregnancy, at the situation with the demon and Stephanie, all came unleashed in a roaring haze.

Willow took over the kiss. Curling her hands into his short hair, she held on as she thrust her tongue in his mouth, tasting his heady flavor, licking the softness of his tongue. He groaned and the power of it vibrated from her lips to her sex as though he’d growled against her core.

Willow pictured him there, his lips and tongue tasting her sex—and she lost it. With a cry, she launched her legs around his hips, and pumped herself against the rock hard cock standing in his pants. Lyonis reacted just as she wanted. He growled against her lips and began pinching and rolling her hard nipple between his fingers. He wasn’t soft or gentle but tugged ruthlessly on her sending shards of hot arousal to her clit.