Page 1 of Forbidden Pregnant Mate

Chapter 1 - Klyte

The sun was shining bright as I reclined in the hot tub and listened to my best friend theorizing about why our former boss had set up a dinner party.

“I’m telling you,” Alek said, “he’s recruiting us again. Just like he always does.”

“And I’m telling you that I don’t think he is.” I flicked water in Alek’s direction, and it hit him square in the face. “If it were recruitment, he wouldn’t do it over dinner at his new house. He would drag us to the nearest military base and start going on about secrecy and all that fun stuff.”

Alek scowled as he wiped the water from his face. The hot top bubbled cheerily as we relaxed in it, enjoying the afternoon sun.

“Klyte’s right,” Jameson said from the far end of the hot tub, where Georgia, his mate, sat on his lap. “Malcolm does this type of stuff by the book. He won’t have an ulterior motive.”

“Oh, I didn’t say that,” I said, grinning. “I just said he doesn’t want us going on some sort of super-special secret mission. But something is definitely going on. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be having a whole dinner party at his place.”

“And you have absolutely no idea what it is?” Jameson asked.

“Nope! Not a clue.” I took a swig of my beer. “It’s not like I’m a mind reader or anything. I don’t live in his head.”

“No, but you know him better than anyone here,” Alek said. “And that includes Jameson.”

I held up a finger, intentionally flicking Alek with more water as I did. “Just because I know him better than everyone else here doesn’t necessarily mean I know him well.”

“Come off it.” Alek’s slap on the back of my head nearly sent me face-first into the bubbling water. “The guy practically raised you.”

I shrugged. It was true. My dad died when I was a kid, and Malcolm, who’d been in the same pack as me, had become what was effectively a father figure to me. Then, after I started shifting, Malcolm apparently decided he wanted to train me to join one of his black ops teams. I’d spent all my teenage years learning to fight and studying special ops tactics.

“Anyway, he’s definitely got something up his sleeve,” I said, taking a sip of beer. “But considering the ladies are invited, it’s not going to be mission-related.”

“Fair,” Luke said. “I’m pretty sure Andi would kill him herself if she found out he was sending us off on a mission right now.”

Considering Andi, Luke’s mate, found out she was pregnant with twins last month, I couldn’t exactly blame her.

“It’ll be fine,” I said.

“Yeah, because nothing’s gone wrong in the past couple of years since we retired or anything,” Alek mumbled.

I couldn’t exactly argue with that. A lot had happened since we’d moved to Brixton with the intention of having a nice, quiet, relaxing time of things after nearly ten years in special ops. But the universe had a funny sense of humor and seemed to have taken offense to the fact that we wanted to take it easy for a change. So far, it hadn’t exactly been the cakewalk any of us had wanted or imagined.

“It hasn’t been all bad,” Oliver said from where he reclined next to the hot tub, beer in one hand.

“Easy for you to say,” Alek said. “You got a mate out of it.”

Oliver shrugged but didn’t argue with the fact.

“Like I said, I think it’s because he just moved to the area,” Jameson said. “If it were something else, he would have given me some sort of heads-up.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see in a few hours,” I said, sinking deeper into the water. “If I’m wrong and something monumental happens, I’ll give you five bucks, Alek.”

Alek grinned. “Deal.”

***

Brixton, Colorado, home to the Obsidian Pack, was a small town in the mountains surrounded by trees. I’d always liked the coziness of it. Wood and red brick buildings spilled out from the center of town. There wasn’t a whole lot to do—a couple of bars and restaurants, a club, a small movie theater. But there was still enough to keep you entertained for a day, and it wasn’t far from larger cities if you started feeling cooped up. I made my way through town and into the woods toward Malcolm’s new house.

Malcolm’s house was big. Not as big as the manor Jameson and Georgia lived in and where Jameson conducted all his alpha business, but it was still sizeable. Nestled in the woods and built of wood, it was two stories high with a wraparound balcony, much like most of the homes in Brixton. My own included, even if mine was a lot smaller.

I knocked on the door. A moment later, it swung open to reveal a large, middle-aged shifter. Malcolm beamed when he saw me.

“Klyte!” he exclaimed. “Good to see you. Late as usual.”

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