Page 61 of Cursed Love
Serena glanced at Peter. “Is she…”
“What?” Brandy asked. “Am I what?”
Peter’s lids lowered and his nose flared. When he did not speak but stepped into her personal bubble, she prepared to shove him away. Her attention darted from the werewolf to Ryan, who seemed to lose his voice or his decency to stand up for her. A burst of air tickled her neck as Peter exhaled.
“Oh,” he muttered before stepping away and nodding. “Yeah, but barely.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck and looked from Ryan to Brandy. “You’re pregnant.”
“What?” they yelled.
She was pregnant? How? They had only had sex three times, and two of those were in the last twenty-four hours. Brandy’s knees buckled under her, but before she could hit the ground, Ryan scooped her into his arms and dropped into the armchair with no finesse. His face reflected the same shock flowing through her.
Movement caught her eye a second before Serena flipped Ryan’s left ear forward. “Did you get a tattoo?”
He released Brandy’s hand and searched the skin behind his ear with his forefinger. “A tattoo? No. What are you talking about? My ear’s been itching. That’s all.”
“Mmhmm,” Serena muttered.
Tilting his head to the side, Brandy found a black design. “Is that a horse’s head?”
Pushing to his feet, Ryan set her down and rushed to the bathroom as everyone stared at her.
“Why do you think I’m pregnant?”
Serena pointed at her hand. “A raised, rose-colored mark on a witch is a sign of pregnancy, which tells me you hit the baby load. Peter confirmed it by smelling the change of hormones off of you.”
“But how?” she asked at the same time Ryan asked, “What the hell is this thing?”
“Maybe you should ask Mommy and Daddy about the birds and the bees,” Serena told her in a baby voice.
All of Brandy’s emotions from the last ten minutes boiled over at the woman’s snide remark. “No reason to be a bitch about it.”
“Babycakes!”
“Brandy!”
“Sweetheart!”
The men called at her as fireballs formed in each of her hands, the new marks long forgotten. Her heart pounded in her chest as an eerie calm came over her. Serena’s eyes flashed with anger, and Brandy found herself pushed against the nearest wall.
“You dare challenge me, little girl!” Serena snapped.
As the youngest of seven, Brandy loathed being called a little girl. It was something that had been thrown at her all her life. Her position against the wall reminded her of the tubar Ryan had killed when they met.
Brandy stared at the priestess, tuning out the frantic men in her life. “I think someone needs a time out,” she told Serena, her icy voice drawing the men’s attention as she froze the other woman in place. With a flick of her fingers, Brandy dropped to the ground in a crouch. Her hand grazed her belly. If it was true, she needed to take more care.
“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, blocking her view of the frozen woman.
Brandy nodded and brushed her lips against his. She turned from him, marched up to Peter, and punched him in the arm.
“Ow! What was that for?” Peter cried.
“Why the hell did you bring her here? When the hell were you going to mention you could smell pregnancies? Where the hell did you go last night?” she asked, snapping question after question.
“Umm… Bran?” Ethan pointed at the witch shimmering as she tried to break free.
Brandy hit Serena with another burst of magic, and the woman stilled. “So?” she asked Peter.
The front door opened then, and Peter turned on his heels, positioning himself in front of Brandy from the newcomer. She peered around her large friend and spotted a man. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight as Peter relaxed in front of her.
