Reading Online Novel

Midnight Rising(55)





Dante put his arm around his Breedmate in a move that was both protective and reverent, and it was then that Rio noticed the gentle swell of her belly underneath the pale rose tee-shirt and khaki pants she wore. She caught his downward glance and smiled as beatific as the Madonna herself.



“I’m just out of my first trimester,” she said, turning all of that glowing love on Dante now. “Someone’s making it his new mission in life to spoil me rotten.”



Dante chuckled. “I aim to please.”



“Congratulations,” Rio murmured, genuinely happy for the pair.



It wasn’t common for warriors and their mates to raise a family within the Order. Practically unheard of, in fact. Breed males who looked to devote their lives to combat typically weren’t the home-and-hearth types. But then Dante never had been one to color within the lines.



“Where is Dylan?” Tess asked.



Rio gestured toward the closed French doors across the room. “I made an ass of myself in there with her. I had a meltdown and I…ah, damn, I shattered a mirror. Some of the flying glass cut her cheek.”



“You’re still experiencing the blackouts?” Tess asked, frowning. “The headaches too?”



He shrugged, not wanting to discuss his own numerous problems. “I’m okay. Just…do what you can to take care of her, all right?”



“I will.” Tess took a small black medical bag from Dante’s hands. At Rio’s questioning look, she said, “Since I’ve been expecting, my healing abilities have dimmed. I understand it’s normal for pregnancy to draw a Breedmate’s energy inward. It should come back once the baby is born. Until then, I’ll have to rely on good old-fashioned medicine.”



Rio cast a look over his shoulder at the bedroom. He couldn’t see Dylan, but he figured she was in there needing to see someone kind and gentle. Someone who could patch her up and talk to her like a normal person. Reassure her that she was safe, among people she could trust. Especially after the spectacular display of raging psychotic-turned-lecherous freak he’d put on for her in there.



“It’s okay,” Tess said. “I’ll take care of her.”



Dante cuffed Rio in the biceps. “Come on. There’s still an hour or so before dawn. You look like you could use some fresh air, my man.”





CHAPTER

Seventeen





D ylan was crouched on the floor near the foot of the bed, picking up broken glass, when the French doors opened softly into the bedroom.

“Dylan?”



It was a female voice, the one she’d heard talking quietly with Rio and another man in the other room a minute ago. Dylan looked up and felt the instant warmth of a caring bright teal gaze light on her.



The beautiful young woman smiled. “Hi. I’m Tess.”



“Hi.” Dylan set a glass shard off to the side and bent to retrieve another.



“Rio asked me to come in and see if you were all right.” Tess carried a small black leather bag as she came into the room. “Are you okay?”



Dylan nodded. “It’s just a scratch.”



“Rio feels really awful about this. He’s been having…problems for some time now. Ever since the warehouse explosion last summer. He’s lucky to be alive.”



Oh, God. So that explained the burns and shrapnel scars. An explosion did all of that damage? He really had been through hell and back.



Tess went on. “Because of his brain trauma from the blast, he blacks out from time to time. On top of that, he also has severe headaches, mood swings…well, I think you saw for yourself, it’s no picnic. He didn’t mean for you to get hurt, I promise you that.”



“I’m fine,” Dylan said, not about to worry over the scratch on her cheek. “I tried to tell him it was no big deal. The cut’s not bleeding anymore.”



“That’s a relief,” Tess said as she set the medical satchel down on the bureau. “I’m glad to see it’s not as bad as Rio feared. The way he described it to me on the phone, I thought we were looking at half a dozen stitches at least. A little antiseptic and a bandage ought to do the trick.” She walked over to where Dylan had been collecting pieces of the shattered mirror. “Here—let me help you with this.”



As she approached, Dylan noticed that Tess’s palm rested lightly on the little swell of her stomach. She was pregnant. Not that far along from the looks of it, but she beamed with an inner radiance that left no doubt whatsoever.



And the hand that cradled the early stages of a growing baby bump had a small birthmark on it. Dylan couldn’t help staring at the scarlet teardrop-and-crescent-moon shape on Tess’s right hand—the very same mark Dylan herself had been born with on the nape of her neck.