Claimed (Blood Ties Book 6)

My stomach lurched a second before the hot acid spilled into the back of my throat.

My eyes snapped open. Terror punched through me as I threw aside the covers and lunged for the bathroom. That burning was in my mouth, slipping out to splash on the toilet seat as my stomach clenched again…and again…and again.

A growl came from behind me. Colt was just a towering shadow. Through the tears, I caught his wide eyes filled with panic as he stood in the doorway. But I didn’t have enough strength to worry about him right then. Instead, I clutched the seat and held on for dear life.

I tried to keep quiet as I retched, but the sounds that came from me sounded inhuman. I whimpered, held on, and retched again.

The bedroom door flew open, hitting the wall with a bang!

“Wildcat?” Carven called from the bedroom.

I swiped my hand across my mouth and gripped my stomach. Colt spun at the invasion and shoved an arm across the doorway, blocking the way.

“Hey!” Carven snarled.

Until that sickening warning sound rumbled in the chest of his twin. Someone shoved first, then the other shoved back, until shirts were yanked and Carven was slammed against the wall.

“Stop!” I cried out and shoved to my feet. “That’s your brother.”

Colt whipped his gaze toward me. Those almost black eyes told me all I need to know. I lifted a trembling hand, my knees shaking with the effort. “Easy, now.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Carven whipped his gaze from his brother to me and punched his twin’s hand from his shirt. “What’s gotten into you, asshole?”

“It’s not him.” I shook my head. “It’s the…”

“I know who it is,” Carven snapped, straightening the creased neckline of his shirt. “You think I don’t know my own blood? I know Colt, know him better than anyone. But this.” He waved a hand toward his brother, who just looked at him like a rival. “This isn’t him.”

Colt’s answer was to take a step forward, his top lip curling.

I lifted a hand. “No—” I barely got out before another wave of nausea slammed into me again, making me clutch my stomach and moan.

“Are you supposed to be this sick?”

I winced, swallowing hard as that urge to retch came back. “I don’t know.”

Fear gripped me. What if there was something wrong? My hand trembled. “I need my phone,” I requested as I stepped back into the bedroom.

The hostility in the room didn’t ease as Carven searched the floor, grabbed it from amongst my discarded clothes, and handed it to me. But he didn’t come closer, just eyed his brother as I pressed one of the few contacts I had stored.

The phone barely rang before it was answered. “Vivienne,” the soft male voice said. “Everything okay?’

In the background, I could hear chaos. Multiple orders were barked around the beep and squeal of machines. It sounded frantic. Still, the doctor had answered my call.

“I’m pregnant,” I rushed. “But I’m vomiting a lot and I feel like I’ve been hit by a train.”

“How far along?”

I lifted my gaze to Colt, who still glared at his brother. “Not long. Four to six weeks.”

“It’s normal to be sick in the mornings. How is your health? Have you had any…recent trauma?”

He knew the kind of life I had, and what we’d been through. “Not the best.”

“I’m sending you the name of a specialist. She’s one of the best gynecologists in the city. She’ll look after you. And Vivienne…”

“Yeah?”

“You need to protect yourself now more than ever.” He gave a grunt, lifting something as he spoke. “You have another life to think about now. I need to go, but please keep in touch.”

“I will. Thank you, Lucas.”

“You’re very welcome.”

He was gone, leaving me holding the phone as my belly clenched again.

“Well?” Carven glared.

I don’t know,” I said. “He’s given me the name of a doctor who’ll see me.” I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to stumble for the toilet. “I need someone to take me.”

The bedroom door opened slowly and London stepped in. His dark eyes missed nothing as he scanned the room before settling on me.

“I’ll take you,” he declared, then met Colt’s threatening stare. There was a flinch before he stepped toward him. “You need to get ahold of yourself, son. We need you, do you hear me? We need you to come back to us.”

A flicker of confusion rose in Colt’s eyes. The blue brightened a little, leaving the dangerous glare of the beast behind. But it was only a flicker before the darkness returned.

“If you send me the details, I’ll make the call.” London offered, glancing my way.

I nodded, my fingers trembling as my phone beeped with the doctor’s details. I did as London asked, sending the information. “I need to shower,” I muttered, going back to the bathroom and leaving them behind.

How the hell were you supposed to look after yourself when your world was a goddamn mess?

I didn’t know. But I had to try.

“LET’S get you up on the table for a scan.” Juliet Sharpe smiled as she rose from the chair and waved toward an exam table in the corner of the room.

She was everything Doctor DeLuca had promised. Smart, kind, and very, very thorough as she took down all my details. London, on the other hand, was his normal demeanour; cold, quiet, and dangerous. He said nothing, just sat there with his legs crossed and an unflinching stare.

“Sure,” I answered, and glanced London’s way before I rose.

Juliet moved to a machine. “It’s quite early, but I use a cutting-edge ultrasound that allows me to detect the baby even at this stage.”

My breath caught as I focused on the black screen on the machine that came to life with a flick of a switch. “So, we’re going to be able to see it?” I kicked off my shoes at the base of the bed. “The baby?”

She just smiled. “That’s the plan.”

My pulse sped as I glanced at London. But he said nothing. Actually, he said less than nothing, just levelled that empty glare on the same monitor.

I ignored him, just climbed up and lay back, tugging my shirt up as Juliet unbuttoned my jeans and tugged them down a bit.

“A little cold gel,” she murmured, squeezing an upended bottle until a thick, clear substance squirted on my abdomen.

But I was fixed on that black screen as she pressed a wand to my belly and pressed. Sounds came through the speaker, sloshing and distorted, until she shifted the wand and bore down…then there was a racing, fluttering sound.

“There we go.” She smiled and glanced my way.

I stared at the blur on the screen.

“It’s very early…about eight weeks, by the looks of it. This is the baby’s heart right here and there—”

She stopped, scowling.

I searched her face. “What is it?”

Juliet just shook her head. “That’s…strange.”

She grabbed the bottle and squeezed more gel onto my belly before pressing down once more. From the corner of my eye, I saw London uncross his legs and lean forward a little. My pulse sped, thrashing in my ears as I met his stare.

Now there was life.

And worry.

He pushed up from the chair. “What is it?”

She didn’t look at him but focused on the screen, and that thrashing sound came once more. “You’re…um. You have another baby.”

“Another baby?” I whispered. “What do you mean, another baby?”

She pressed harder into my belly. “This is so strange. Another placenta, another complete sac. This baby is more developed, about twelve weeks, by the looks of it.”

Twelve weeks? My eyes widened as I fixed on London.

He knew…exactly what I was thinking.

“This other baby. Could it be by the same father, or another father?”

The doctor winced. But she knew our living arrangements, had made sure she took down all the details of London, Carven, and Colt, including our very active sexual conditions.

“It’s possible. Extremely rare, but possible. It’s called heteropaternal superfecundation. Two compete babies, fathered by two different men.”

Two babies…

By two different fathers.

I was already doing the calculations in my head, already resurrecting the three months before, when it had just been Colt…and a lot of London. My breath caught, and the room tilted. A whole lot of London. Twelve weeks ago, it was us…all the time.

“London,” I whispered.

“I’m the father,” he murmured, sounding a bit dazed.