Free Fire of a Dragon (Fallen Immortals 3) - Paranormal Fairytale Romance by Alisa Woods

her eyes open any longer, every ounce of energy having gone into boosting the magic they were giving her to save her child.
    “It’s okay,” she gasped. “It’s going to be okay.” She wasn’t sure if it made any sound.
    Then she drifted off into a sea of blackness.

It was another ten minutes before Lucian was willing to take her out of the bath.
    An hour before her temperature dropped down to normal. Normal for a dragon’s mate, at least. And an agonizing two more hours while she thrashed in some kind of dream state, alternating moans and mumbling. He couldn’t decide if they were from pain or pleasure. He brought her back to his lair, changed her into dry clothes, and made her as comfortable as he could. It didn’t seem to matter.
    He never left her side, feeling each small torment as a strike against his heart.
    Finally, in the greatest gush of relief he’d ever known… Arabella opened her eyes.
    At first, Lucian couldn’t speak. He just stroked her hair and gazed in wonder at her beautiful, green eyes. She blinked in confusion and sleepiness at him. She was curled up on his bed— their bed—the covers twisted underneath her.
    “Water,” she said, then coughed.
    His heart seized. He’d never run so fast as he did to the bathroom and back, returning with a small paper cup that half sloshed on the bed before he managed to get it to her. She was struggling to sit up, so he helped her, once the cup was secure in her hands. They were shaking, but just a little.
    It could have been worse. So much worse.
    He held her while she gulped it down.
    “More.” She handed it back to him, but at least now her voice sounded more normal.
    He ran again, returning with two cups. She drank them both and slowly seemed to come back to him. He couldn’t help pulling her into his lap again, stroking her hair while she drank and just touching her—gently, softly, sparking magic and, he hoped, pleasure—anything to revive her and reassure himself that she was truly okay.
    Then he girded himself for the words that had to come next. Because he was dead certain that doubts about him had brought this on, and he was determined to head this off, air whatever the issues were… before they could literally kill her.
    Just as he mustered the courage to speak, she cut him off by crumpling the cups, tossing them over the side of the bed, and taking his face in both hands… and kissing him.
    It was so surprising—and welcome—that he was instantly lost in it.
    His hands wove into her hair, and his mouth reveled in hers. How he wished this was all that was required—that she could just know of his love by his touch. But obviously that wasn’t enough. And kissing her, in spite of her fervent exploration of his chest with her hands, was an indulgence he couldn’t afford.
    He pulled back from the kiss.
    “Arabella.” His voice choked, and he stroked her hair again as he searched for words. “You have to tell me what caused this.”
    She frowned. “Nothing caused it.”
    “Is it the other women?” he asked, his chest tight.
    She pulled back and gaped at him. “What other women?”
    Oh, fuck. He gritted his teeth and forced it out. “The ones in Seattle. That night when I… when I thought I might force myself to… to mate with someone else. Cinaed told me you found out. That you thought—”
    But she was rolling her eyes at him. “Lucian.” She pursed her lips.
    He held his breath.
    “Did you sleep with them?” she asked.
    “No,” he said quickly. Maybe too quickly.
    She raised one eyebrow.
    “I swear upon my honor, Arabella, I did not…” He swallowed. “I did not technically have sex with them. It didn’t get that far. But I did… there was a brief time of…” Sweet magic, why couldn’t he force the words out?
    “You messed around.” Her face was set like a stone.
    “Yes.” He would sooner have spilled blood—a great quantity of blood—than utter that word.
    “Did you enjoy it?”
    “No!”
    The arched