Series: 7 Virgin Brides for 7 Weredragon Billionaires #11
Release Date: March 7, 2018
Genre: Aliens, Dragons, Sci Fi Romance, SFR, Shifters
Buy the Book: Amazon
Will Mal’s mother recognize her first grand dragonlet? Or, will she subject him to the same lifelong rejection, loneliness, and low class destiny forced upon the Onyx siblings — and Mal?
This is a super sweet “happily ever after” bonus story for the full length steamy science fiction romance novel Onyx Dragons: Malachite. YOU REALLY MUST READ THAT BOOK FIRST!!!
Also in this series:
The day of his son’s first birthday, Mal’s lair was in total chaos.
Guests weren’t due until 2 PM. His mother would arrive soon after.
His forearms prickled with nerves.
He loaded his tiny paintbrush with iridescent paint and tried to focus.
As an early first birthday present, Uncle Flint had gifted a paint-it-yourself star map of Draconis, and Mal was currently dotting the ceiling with two hundred billion perfectly sized specks so they could show his mother they were raising a well-educated dragonlet.
Cheryl raced out of the bedroom after their little one. She was soaking wet; her soft shirt clung to her gorgeous, full breasts and outlined the dark, mouth-watering nipples normally hidden beneath layers of hoodie.
“Arthur Stone Onyx, get back to your bath!”
Art’s bright eyes focused on Mal at the ceiling. He launched into the air, flying recklessly for the ceiling as he screamed. “Aaahd-aaahd-aaahd-aaahd!”
Aaahd was as close as he could get to Dad.
Cheryl snatched his ankle out of the air. Art wiggled unhappily. Pale green dragon scales burst over the pink human skin of his chubby arms. Little claws darted from his fingernails.
“No claws. No claws!”
Their baby retracted his claws into his fingers.
“It’s okay.” Mal opened his arms. “I’ve got him.”
Cheryl let go.
The sweet, rambunctious, fearless little ball of scales floated up, out-of-control but undaunted, into Mal’s safe embrace. Mal held him tight.
Art wiggled. His claws slashed Mal’s paint-dotted T-shirt.
“Another shirt ruined.” Cheryl sighed from below, tugging her own in ways that made her lush curves more enticing. “And he’s not supposed to fly so unpredictably…”
“Listen to your mother, Art.”
Their son gooed.
“When he sees you, there’s no arguing with him.” Cheryl shook her wet head and smiled. Her shy cheeks colored pink and her brown eyes sparkled.
The one-year-old was so warm and eager and small. Fierce, protective waves of love washed over Mal and he hugged Art tighter, forgetting about the slashed shirt.
To think how much had changed in a year … no, much longer than that. Twenty-one months ago. The day Mal called Cheryl into his office and demanded she become his wife, he’d never foreseen how much his life would change. How much he would change, first because of Cheryl, and then because of the miracle birth of their son.
Art discovered splotches of twinkling paint stuck to Mal’s cheeks. He peeled one up and stuck it into his gummy mouth.
Mal prized it out. The paint was non-toxic. Probably. But he wouldn’t allow anything less than the safest foods in his son’s diet.
“Bring him down when you’re done.” Cheryl’s mouth quirked to the side. Her jeans hem dripped on the stone floor; notably, their son was not wet. “We have to finish his bath before Grandma Dee arrives. Has the cake been picked up yet?”
“It is cooling.”
“I thought you ordered one.”
It was Art’s first birthday. “He must have the best cake.”
“Were you baking all night? I wondered why you never came to bed.”
He scrubbed his face to clear the exhaustion and then he stroked his son’s dark head. “I will frost it now.”
“You’re working yourself to death.” She crossed her arms over her damp chest. “Did you get any sleep?”
Mal floated down to her. With a wiggly Art sandwiched between them, he eased her worried disapproval with a tender kiss. “I’ll sleep when he’s two.”
She softened, her gaze full of kindness, and stroked his taut shoulders. The sensitive shoulder blades twinged where they concealed his wings. “Today will go well. Our marriage will become official. Your mother will recognize your son.”
His scales jumped close to the surface of his skin as they always did when he was nervous. Art picked at the scaly green pattern on Mal’s forearm with intense dedication.
His son was Mal’s whole world. A world denied his own father, and mother as well, until long after Mal had reached adulthood.
He would not allow the same to happen to his son.
Mal’s stomach twinged. He held his baby close. “I must check the cake.”