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HANNAH OPENED BLEARY eyes and gazed around the bay of the C-130. The men with her were all sleeping. How the hell they could get comfortable on these godforsaken web benches was beyond her. She punched at the hard lump beneath her cheek and got a grunt in reply. Oh, yeah. Mac had padded the bench with a couple of sleeping bags for her and offered his leg as a pillow. Only his freaking thigh was hard as damn rock. Fucking alpha male.
She glanced over at the wolf stretched out on another sleeping bag. Tornjak. Their mission. He’d been brought aboard in human form strapped into a Stokes basket. Soon after takeoff, Mac had hunkered beside him, whispering to the critically injured man. Hannah didn’t believe he’d live to see their destination. Then he changed. Agonizingly. Or so it seemed to her, with the popping of bones, the keening whine erupting from his throat. But afterward, she understood why. As a wolf, he had fur. His human skin had been all but flayed from his body. The fur covered him, would help keep infection out, help speed healing. He’d have scars. But he’d most likely live now.
Rolling onto her back, Hannah tried to get comfortable with her knees bent up. The plane’s engines droned, sending vibrations through her whole body. Her stomach felt concave and while it growled its hunger at her, she also knew there was no way she could eat. She’d already “visited” the facilities—a metal box with a round lid not-so-fondly referred to as the crapper. It hung on the bulkhead of the plane, out there in front of God and everyone. The damn thing had a high platform she’d had to step up on, and needed Mac’s assistance—all to her embarrassment as she was choking back her latest round of nausea.
Mac shifted positions and his broad palm rested on her stomach, at once loving and possessive. After the debrief at Ft. Lyle Smith, the 69th’s base of operations, she’d return to her apartment in Washington and make an appointment with her OB-GYN. Luckily, she used a private doctor instead of a military MD. What the hell was she going to do about her career? “Mixed” marriages were frowned upon only slightly less than officer and enlisted relationships. At least Mac would be off somewhere on what they called Blood Moon leave so she would have some time to think and plan.
“Forget it.” Her head bounced on his thigh as he moved beneath her when she looked up at him. He was wide awake and staring at her. “I’m going with you.”
“W-what? Going with me where?”
“Back to DC. And to your doctor. Then we’ll figure out where we’ll live.’
“Where we’ll live? You mean, together?”
She couldn’t decide if he was amused, pissed, or more likely, a combination of the two. “Yes, Hannah. Together. I’m not leaving you.”
“I have a job, Mac. So do you. Mine’s in DC. Yours is in Bumfuck, Virginia.”
“One of us will commute.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
Mac clenched his teeth to choke back his next comment. Everything that made him an alpha Wolf demanded Hannah quit. To come to him to live. Where he could take care of her. Where he could fuck her whenever they felt the urge. Where he could ensure her safety and that of their child. He instinctively knew it was the wrong thing to say to her. He had to give her time and his fucking wolf would just have to be patient.
He shifted again to ease his erection. His damn dick had a mind of its own and right now, it wanted to be buried in his mate’s cunt. Then his mouth watered. She had the sweetest pussy he’d ever tasted. She stiffened beneath him and he reined in his desire.
“How did you know what I was thinking?”
Raising his chin so she couldn’t see his proprietary grin, he cleared his throat. “Remind me to play strip poker with you.”
She pushed his hand away and swung her legs over the web bench so she could sit up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Let’s just say your face is very expressive.”
“Bullshit.” She watched him, her eyes narrowing into a fierce glower. “You’re laughing at me.”
“No. Not at all.” Much.
“What do you mean, much?”
Now it was his turn to be surprised. He offered a thought in his mind. I love you.
“Yeah, right. I don’t think love has anything to do with it.”
Well, crap. They really were mated, not that he’d seriously doubted it, given his reaction to Hannah. True mates shared unique abilities, though at various levels of skill. Considering the strength of their connection, he shouldn’t be surprised they’d be able to communicate in what were basically complete sentences, rather than just the ideas he could share with his team when they were all in wolf form. His wolf reveled they were that close while the human part of him worried about giving too much away.
“Look, darlin’, we have a whole crap load of stuff to work through. Let’s get home. Get your pregnancy confirmed since you won’t take my word for it. And then we’ll figure shit out.”
The plane hit some rough air and Hannah grimaced, looking more than a little green. Sean had scrounged up a bucket for any further in-flight emergencies and Mac hooked it with the toe of his combat boot just in case. Eyes closed, head back, feet planted on the vibrating deck, Hannah gulped convulsively. Her hand instinctively reached for his, seeking his strength.
He smoothed his thumb over the back of her hand in slow circles and pictured doing the same to her nipples. His dick liked that idea. A lot. They couldn’t get back to HQ fast enough. Ft. Lyle Smith had been named for some hero in the War of 1812 and to avoid getting it confused with the place in Arkansas, the locals fondly called it simply Ft. Lyle. As Command Sergeant Major, he had his own quarters. As soon as they debriefed with Captain Harjo and the team leaders for Charlie and Delta squads, he was taking Hannah to bed. When he was thoroughly and completely sated, and so was she, then they’d drive to DC. He had a month’s leave coming and he planned to spend every second of it convincing Hannah she was his and they belonged together.
Her fingers tightened convulsively on his and Mac glanced over at her face. A light sheen of sweat coated her skin. She’d pressed her head back against the bulkhead and was breathing in short, panting gulps. “Babe? What’s wrong?”
She swallowed and he swore her color paled even more. The sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks stood out like a bunch of crazy connect-the-dots. She swallowed again and a tiny trickle of drool escaped the corner of her mouth. Anger flashed through him. His mate was suffering and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. His wolf’s power swelled until every man on board came awake.
Sean glanced over and immediately went digging in his medical pack while Nakai dug into his pack for MREs. The older man ripped through several packages until he found what he was looking for. Holding up a package of crackers like it was gold, he looked at the others. “We’ll need more.”
Lightfoot and Danny joined the treasure hunt. In a few minutes, they had six packages of crackers, a packet of Dramamine, and a bottle of cold water. Nakai approached Mac and offered up the gifts. “Some crackers first. Then a sip of water. Medicine. Sip of water. Rest of crackers if she holds them down.” He patted Mac on the shoulder. “When we get home, get the girl a steak. She’ll both need and want it.”
The two of them exchanged a look and Mac broke eye contact first, staring at Hannah with new wonder. Was it possible she carried a Wolf? All children were a blessing but a pup that carried the Wolf gene was truly a gift granted to very few. After Nakai returned to his seat, Mac ripped the plastic around the first package of crackers.
“No.”
“Hannah...”
She burped and covered her mouth with her hand. Mac desperately hoped it was the quality of the light turning her skin green.
“Honey, I promise, this will help. Eat some crackers.” He held one up in front of her but she refused to open her eyes. “Open up. Please?”
Hannah grimaced but said, “Only because you said please.” She left her mouth open and Mac slipped a cracker inside. She dutifully chewed and swallowed. After a long minute, she opened her mouth again and he slid another cracker in. When she’d finished the package, he offered her the bottle of water. After a few sips, she leaned her head back, eyes still closed.
Her color returned to something approximating normal and she no longer gasped for air. Mac offered her the Dramamine and more water. She opened her eyes and held out her hand, palm up, to take the pills. Mac ripped the packet with his teeth and dumped the two tablets into her hand. It looked so small next to his. He liked Hannah’s hands. She had long, slender fingers but there was strength in them. She didn’t wear jewelry. No rings or signs that she wore one. He liked that too. It meant his ring would be her first and only. As she lifted the pills to her mouth, he realized he could see all the veins on the back of her hand. Her skin appeared paper thin. His gaze fixed on her face. The delicate skin around her eyes looked bruised—beyond the injuries she’d sustained—and he could see the lacy tracings of the veins just beneath her skin.
His thumb and forefinger found a stray lock of her short hair and rubbed its silky softness between them. She was such a complicated mixture of hard and soft, feminine and gruff, sexy and innocent. And he would die for her and their baby. He would do whatever it took to see her safely through the pregnancy. He would leave the Army. He would walk away from his men. His entire world had narrowed down to this woman and the child she carried. Then she threw up all over him.
