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Words that should have triggered my independence issues instead sent a thrill through me. "Yours," I agreed, squirming to try to get him to move faster. "And you're mine, but not if you don’t hurry up."

He chuckled and his body shook in the most delicious way, his eyes widening slightly before darkening with renewed intensity. "Never change, Danny," he begged, his pace increasing as any reply I might have made disappeared.

We moved together with growing urgency, hands grasping, bodies straining toward release. I felt the familiar pressure building at the base of his cock—his knot beginning to form—and instead of fear, I felt only anticipation.

"Yes," I encouraged, tightening my legs around him. "All of you, Bayer."

With a growl that was more bear than man, he thrust deep one final time, his knot swelling to lock us together as pleasure crashed over us both, and he nuzzled the bite mark on my neck. I cried out his name, because I wanted it again. “Bayer, bite me. Bite me again.” I shuddered as his rough tongue swept over my skin, but then his teeth sank into my neck, and it seemed like my whole body unraveled and rejoined as bone-deep ecstasy slammed into me.

When I sort of realized I was still in my body despite evidence to the contrary, Bayer had carefully shifted us to our sides, cradling me against his chest. His heartbeat gradually slowed beneath my ear, a steady rhythm that brought me back down to earth as his knot softened and he slid out of me.

"That was..." I began, then laughed softly. "I don't even have words."

Bayer frowned and palmed my forehead. “Are you sick? Danny Jacobson left with nothing to say? The world must be coming to an end.”

I thumped him and did my best impression of the rumbling growl that often left his throat, although it sounded more like a rusty hinge and just made Bayer laugh before he got up to clean us both. I knew Bayer’s words had been teasing, but I also knew we were all in very real danger of our world coming to a nasty end.

Chapter nineteen

Danny

I wasn’t thrilled to wake up on my own, but I was slightly mollified when I spied the insulated travel cup on my nightstand and sat up to enjoy the black liquid nirvana. I reached for the cup and flicked the spout up, inhaling deeply.

Less than five minutes later, I knew I no longer needed to worry about the vampire zombie killing me because I was going to die right here, right now, on Bayer’s bathroom floor.

I barely made it to the toilet before my stomach revolted, sending up everything I'd eaten in what felt like the last decade. I groaned, clinging to the porcelain like it was my only friend in the world.

The bathroom door flew open, and Bayer appeared, looking frantic. "Danny? Are you okay? I smelled—"

"Don't say it," I warned, holding up one shaky hand before another wave of nausea hit me. "And don't watch. This isn't...just go away." I reached to flush the toilet.

Instead of leaving, the giant bear shifter knelt beside me, one large hand rubbing soothing circles on my back while the other gently swept my hair from my forehead.

"It's perfectly normal," he murmured, his voice infuriatingly calm.

I shot him a glare between heaves. "There is nothing" —I paused to spit miserably— "normal about this."

"Actually, morning sickness is very common in the early stages of—"

"Don't you dare say it," I hissed, my stomach finally settling enough for me to sit back on my heels. "This is just...food poisoning. Or a stomach bug. Or maybe your coffee is poison to humans."

Bayer's lips twitched. "My coffee?"

"Yes, your terrible, awful coffee that just tried to murder me." I pointed accusingly at the mug, now abandoned on the nightstand, visible through the open door.

"Danny," Bayer said gently, "did you actually drink any?"

I stared at him, then at the untouched coffee, then back at him. "Fine. Then it's psychosomatic. The mere thought of poisoned coffee made me sick."

"Or," Bayer suggested, his voice suspiciously neutral, "it could be—"

"I swear to all that is holy, if you say the P-word, I will find a way to make you suffer."

He bit his lip, clearly fighting a smile. "Would you prefer 'expecting'? 'With child'? 'In the family way'?"

I groaned, leaning my forehead against the cool porcelain. "I hate you right now."

"No, you don't." His hand continued its soothing circles on my back.