Pregnant and Mated to Three Kings

Confession

PRESENT DAY

Isabella Hawthorne

My mind reeled as the Kings dropped bombshell claims, each insisting he was my mate. If the Elf King was here too, I would have hit the jackpot. Pregnant and already grappling with the shock of impending motherhood, this revelation catapulted me into a nightmare.

Is this some sick prank? I wondered. But deep down, I knew better. They weren't pranksters; they were kings, rulers of realms beyond my understanding. Why in the world would they bother with me? A human who could not even feel the mate bond?

Ulric separated from the trio and strode towards me. My heart thudded as he took my hand, his touch warm against my trembling fingers. I stared in disbelief – an immortal was holding my hand! He then knelt down, pressed his lips to my knuckles, and rose with an unsettling grace. He fixed his gaze on mine and uttered in a deep, resonant voice, "Isabella, I am Ulric, the King of the Lycan Kingdom of Falir. It is an honor to finally meet you, my dearest mate."

Then and there, I snapped back into the present, and I belatedly noticed the spectacle outside the town hall. The street had been transformed into a regal parade ground with the kings' escorts, guards, and cars that spilled along the road.

This couldn't be real.

As I grappled with my disbelief, another voice cut through the air, turning my attention back to the kings.

"Take your filthy dog paws off my mate, Ulric," declared the Vampire King.

"I'd be cautious of my words if I were you, bloodsucker," Ulric retorted, his eyes narrowing as he stepped away.

Undeterred, Damien advanced towards me. His fingers closed around my hand, sending a shiver down my spine at the touch of his cold grasp.

"My darling Isabella," he proclaimed, his voice velvety smooth. "Pay no mind to the King of the dogs. I, the Night King, am your true mate." He pressed his lips to the back of my hand.

Just when I believed things couldn't get any crazier, the sound of war drums and horns burst forth, filling the air with a thunderous rhythm.

My gaze landed upon the Dragon Sovereign's entourage, marching in disciplined unison. They moved with the synchronized precision of a clockwork army, their instruments booming a sonic fanfare that echoed the majesty of their king. At the forefront, a dragon shifter boomed like thunder across the stunned crowd. "Citizens of Meadow Brook," his voice rolled, "I present to you, the King of Nyxia, His Imperial Highness, the Dragon Sovereign, Draven Fireheart!"

Draven stepped forward, a captivating figure with fiery red hair, eyes like molten gold, and shoulders adorned with bronze scales that glinted like ancient armor. He moved with an ageless grace, his royal finery draping him like a cloak of authority. He seemed older than the other kings, yet he possessed the vitality of an immortal.

As he drew closer, the two other kings instinctively stepped aside. Draven's presence radiated an undeniable heat, not just in the literal sense, but also in an aura of power and charisma that set him apart.

King Damien muttered under his breath, "Pompous ass," rolling his eyes as Draven halted directly in front of me.

Unlike the others, Draven didn't offer a bow or extend a hand for a kiss. Instead, he held my gaze with unwavering intensity, his scrutiny burning through me like a fiery breath. Shivers danced down my spine, his examination penetrating every crevice of my being.

"Move," he said.

Completely bewildered, I stammered, "I'm sorry? What?"

Draven, seemingly oblivious to the presence of the other kings, turned his back to me as if to walk away. "You are coming with me to Nyxia, Isabella Hawthorne."

Oh Gods. No.

Ulric rumbled like a volcano, "This is madness, Draven. She's not a trophy to be bartered! She carries my child and she stays with me."

"And why in the hells would she choose any of you, Fireheart? Bloodfang? She's no subject of yours. And that child is mine," Damien hissed.

Draven's molten eyes narrowed, the air shimmering with the subtle tremors of his suppressed power. "Your squabbles and decrees hold no sway here. Isabella possesses a bond with Nyxia deeper than your petty squabbles. She comes with me."

What in the Kingdoms is happening? I stood there, my mind a swirling tempest of confusion. The revelation of my pregnancy still echoed in my ears, a raw and tender truth that I had barely come to terms with. How, in the span of mere moments, had these supernatural rulers become aware of this secret? Did Aurelia tell them? And, on top of that, would that mean that the stranger I fvcked in the woods was one of the Kings of Elysia?

Oh Gods.

"Think well, Draven," Ulric growled, his voice laced with the low rumble of an approaching storm. "You cannot force her. Not even you have that power."

"Force? No, that is not my intent. Her choice will be her own. The connection whispers, do you not feel it, Isabella? The pull of Nyxia, beckoning you home?"

I looked at the Dragon King, but before I could drown in terror, a high-pitched warble pierced the air.

"Your Royal Majesties!" it boomed.

I whirled around to see a familiar figure hurtling towards us, a portly sunbeam squeezed into a tracksuit two sizes too small. It could only be Theodore Caldwell, our Mayor, recognized by his signature toupee perpetually defying gravity and a certain off-kilter glint in his eyes. It was like he was permanently surprised to see a talking squirrel, or maybe a cat juggling flaming bowling balls.

Mayor Caldwell skidded to a halt in a flourish that belied his haste, bowing deeply to the three kings. "Your Majesties! Deepest apologies for interrupting this, uh, fascinating exchange. But I think my services are needed here!"

Draven's eyes narrowed to fiery pinpricks. "Mayor Caldwell, your timing is as atrocious as your fashion sense."

"Indeed," agreed Damien. "You are not needed here. This does not concern you, human."

"I am the father of this town, and as such, this concerns me, Your Majesty." Mayor Caldwell beamed like a lighthouse in a fog bank. "May I know what is happening here, Your Majesties?"

"Isabella Hawthorne is pregnant with my child," explained Ulric. "These two bumbling fools are claiming her as their own. And this dragon here wants to take her to Nyxia."

"Ah, therein lies the rub!" Caldwell's eyes widened in glee. "By the Elysian Treaty, forged in the wake of… past unpleasantness, a human cannot be compelled to accompany any supernatural being. Their decision must be informed, free, and dare I say, enthusiastic!"

My jaw gaped. Is he actually defending me? This was the same Mayor who'd barely offered a condolence when Mrs. Higgins died. His unexpected intervention left me speechless.

"Law or not, this woman bears a child with a Lycan connection. She comes with me," Ulric claimed.

"Stop with your lies, you slobbering mutt," retorted Damien. "That child is mine!"

Draven scoffed. "Delusional dimwits. Isabella's child is mine."

My head throbbed with a rhythm akin to the clashing claims of the kings. It was all becoming too much – the suffocating tension, the possessive pronouncements, the absurd spectacle of three supernatural beings squabbling over my womb like children snatching at toys.

I wasn't a doll to be possessed, a prize to be won. A primal scream clawed at my throat, and just as it threatened to burst forth, I roared, "Enough!"

The word echoed across the square, a tremor in my own voice that surprised even me. I was yelling at kings, powerful beings of legend, yet the fear that had held me captive evaporated in the face of this overwhelming absurdity.

Silence descended, thick and suffocating. I could hear the frantic drumbeat of my own heart, amplified in the sudden stillness. The kings stared at me, their faces blank slates of surprise.

"This is… too much," I panted. "This is all… surreal."

"But Isabella, you are my mate," rumbled the Lycan King.

"Hold on there, Your Majesty. That remains to be proven. Not all of us know the truth here." Mayor Caldwell's beady eyes bore into me. "Is this true, Isabella? Are you with child?"

My cheeks burned under the weight of his gaze, every fiber of my being screaming at me to deny it. But denial felt futile, a flimsy shield against the revelations already ripped open. I turned to look at Aurelia, and she gave me an encouraging nod.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. "Y-yes, Mayor Caldwell. Aurelia just confirmed it," I said. "I... I am two months pregnant."