Pregnant and Mated to Three Kings

Gnashing Teeth

Damien Nevermore, The Vampire King

The stench of dogs assailed my senses, a foul odor that clung to the air like a persistent fog. Ulric's unmistakable canine scent invaded my nostrils, causing me to wrinkle my nose in distaste. Lycans always had a way of making my skin crawl, their putrid stench a constant reminder of their inferiority.

But I refused to let their presence distract me, not when the tantalizing call of the mate bond beckoned me onward. No, I would endure the stench if it meant getting closer to finding her. Besides, I had more pressing matters at hand.

Ulric's discomfort was obvious, his nervousness practically radiating off him in waves. But I paid it no mind, my focus solely on the task at hand. Whatever reason he had for being here was inconsequential to me; I had come with a purpose, and I intended to see it through.

Turning my attention to the burly guard blocking my path, I couldn't help but sneer at the sight of the savage-looking creature.

"Your dog is breathing on my neck," I remarked. "Would you be so kind as to put him on his leash?"

The guard in front of me emitted a low, guttural growl, a warning rumbling from his chest as he bared his teeth in a feeble attempt to intimidate me. But I remained unfazed, refusing to dignify his display with even a glance. My focus remained fixed on Ulric, the King of the dogs, as I savored the waves of hatred emanating from him.

I could practically taste the resentment in the air and I relished every moment of it. Ulric's desire to tear me limb from limb was apparent, yet we both knew the Treaty prevented him from acting on his urges. It was a delicious game of power and control, and I reveled in the tension it brought.

"Drop it, Garrett, let them pass," Ulric commanded. With a begrudging nod, the guard stepped aside, allowing us to proceed.

A triumphant smile stretched across my lips as I bared my fangs in a silent declaration of victory. "Thank you, old friend," I said.

"We are not friends, parasite," he retorted.

With a smug grin, I swept past Ulric and his guards, leaving behind a trail of simmering animosity in my wake.

As I prepared to ascend the stairs leading to the infirmary where my mate awaited, a sudden booming, flapping noise shattered the tranquility of the night.

Instinctively, I looked skyward, my eyes widening at the sight that greeted me: a flight of dragons, their majestic forms darkening the night sky as they soared above.

Among them, one stood out—a colossal beast, its wingspan dwarfing those of its companions. I narrowed my eyes, watching the spectacle unfold with curiosity and apprehension. What business did these oversized lizards have here?

As the dragons descended closer to the ground, my gaze fixated on the largest of them all, unmistakably the Dragon Sovereign himself, Draven Fireheart. With a thunderous roar, he landed on the side of the lot, his massive wings flapping forcefully and sending winds swirling in all directions. Debris and dust filled the air, swirling around him in a chaotic dance as he touched down with an imposing presence that demanded attention.

After the majestic display of his dragon form, Draven Fireheart shifted back into his human body, his transformation unfolding before the eyes of all who bore witness. With a shimmering glow, scales and wings melted away, revealing the towering figure of the Dragon Sovereign in all his nakedness.

Unfazed by his nudity, Draven stood with an air of regal indifference as one of his guards approached, presenting him with his armor and robes. Without so much as a glance in our direction, he accepted the garments, the fabric draping over his broad shoulders as he prepared to move forward.

As he strode purposefully ahead, his gaze finally met mine, and for a fleeting moment, our eyes locked in an unspoken exchange. There was no hint of recognition or acknowledgment on his face as he continued on, seemingly impervious to the chaos and attention swirling around him.

Tall and commanding, he drew the gaze of all present. And though I hated the attention he garnered, I couldn't deny the undeniable magnetism that emanated from the Dragon Sovereign as he moved through the crowd with effortless grace.

Draven Fireheart's imposing figure halted before us, casting a towering shadow that seemed to stretch endlessly. His height was almost comically exaggerated, a fact that did not escape my notice as I found myself craning my neck to meet his gaze.

Ulric's eyes narrowed as he addressed the Dragon Sovereign. "Draven," he hissed, his voice laced with thinly veiled hostility. His gaze flickered between Draven and me before settling back on the imposing figure before us.

"This is ridiculous. It baffles me why you both are here. This surely is not a coincidence."

I remained silent. Draven's expression remained unreadable, his gaze steady as he regarded Ulric with a cool detachment that belied the weight of the situation.

"It is inconsequential to me why you are here as I do not care about your meager affairs," Draven declared, his voice carrying a dismissive tone as he continued to stride forward, as though Ulric and I were nothing more than a passing breeze. "I am here to claim my mate."

The words hung in the air, a perplexing declaration that left both Ulric and me momentarily stunned.

Claim his mate? I pondered, feeling a throbbing ache of confusion pulse in my head.

Ulric couldn't contain his incredulity. "Hold up, Draven!" he burst out. "What are you talking about? What are you blabbering about claiming a mate?"

Draven paused in his steps, turning to regard Ulric over his shoulder with a gaze that held a hint of impatience. "What is it to you, Lycan?"

Ulric's response was immediate, his own frustration palpable. "This is unbelievable. I am here to do just the same."

As I listened to their exchange, a sense of realization began to dawn upon me, connecting the dots in my mind with alarming clarity. The notion that both of these creatures were here for the same purpose as I—that they, too, sought to claim their mates—seemed almost too extraordinary to comprehend.

"You have got to be kidding me," I exclaimed. "I am here to claim mine as well."

As I stood there, grappling with the absurdity of the situation, my mind raced through possible scenarios to explain why the three of us—Ulric, Draven, and I—had converged upon Meadow Brook's town hall clinic. Did each of us truly have a human as our mate? What were the odds that all three of our fated partners were within the same building, in the same small town? It seemed preposterous, yet the more I contemplated it, the more unsettling the potential answers became.

Ulric, meanwhile, seemed to be experiencing a similar sense of disbelief, his demeanor shifting between shock and aggression. He growled and bristled with an intensity that was unmistakable, his eyes locked in a fierce glare as he confronted Draven.

Draven, however, remained remarkably composed, his expression betraying none of the unease or confusion that permeated the air. With a casual shrug, he tore his gaze away from Ulric and called upon one of his guards. "Draegen," he beckoned, his tone cool and authoritative.

The guard, tall and imposing, approached his master with a respectful nod. "Yes, Your Imperial Highness?" he responded dutifully.

I couldn't help but inwardly smirk at the title bestowed upon Draven, "Imperial Highness," I mused, finding amusement in the notion that he still clung to such grandiose titles, as if he were somehow above the rest of us. He was not the emperor of Elysia. And I certainly would not submit to him.

Draven wasted no time in issuing his command. "Fetch whoever is inside that building and bring my mate to me."

"Yes, my King," Draegen acknowledged, before swiftly moving to carry out his master's bidding.

"What do you think you are doing, Fireheart?" Ulric snapped.

"What I should have done the moment I arrived, Lycan," responded the dragon. "Thanks to your interruption, along with the vampire's, I've had to endure even more time waiting to claim what is rightfully mine."

As the creatures before me engaged in their heated exchange, I found myself momentarily distracted by the movement at the entrance of the clinic. The door swung open, and an elderly healer emerged, her features etched with concern and trepidation. My vampiric hearing caught the faint tremor in her voice as she addressed Draegen.

Draegen maintained a calm demeanor as he issued his directive. "Bring me whoever is inside this clinic. The Dragon Sovereign is looking for his fated mate," he instructed.

I watched from afar as the old woman, visibly shaken, hurried back inside, her steps quick.

The mere seconds of waiting stretched longer than all eternities combined. I swallowed hard, sensing the call of the mate bond growing stronger with each passing moment. The elderly healer must have summoned everyone inside, for the anticipation hung heavy in the air.

Turning my gaze to Ulric and Draven, I noticed they had ceased their bickering, their attention fixed on the entrance as though they, too, could sense their mates drawing nearer. After a few more tense moments, the healer stepped forward, gesturing for someone to join her from within the hall's threshold. Addressing the dragon guard, she spoke, "Here is my only patient at the moment, sir. This is Isabella Hawthorne."

Before I could fully process her words, the most exquisite creature stepped into view. Familiarity and recognition washed over me as I recalled our encounter in the woods beyond the Hall of the Four Kingdoms. I took a step forward, my lips parting involuntarily.

"Mine," I uttered, and Gods forbid, Ulric and Draven said the same.