Kalos has the grace not to laugh at me, but I catch his lips twitching before he answers.
“I don’t believe so. I have never heard of a witch carrying a dragon’s young. I would have assumed that you’d produce a witch, but with the way the whelp is sucking heat away from you, they will be a dragon. It will just take a form compatible with you during gestation.”
“Okay, so a live birth and a baby?”
Kalos nods. I’m caught on that detail for a moment. I haven’t really thought any further than handling this day by day, and the hellish effect of always being cold hasn’t left much time to consider other things.
I nod after absorbing the information. I’m having a baby. A baby that will turn into a dragon.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “You were saying something about dragon eggs needing heat?”
“The parents will usually blow fire on their egg.” Kalos’s mouth twists in discomfort but continues. “The more fire, the shorter the incubation.”
“But I won’t survive under fire,” I squeak, and it breaks Kalos out of whatever thoughts are bothering him.
He shrugs. “You may, you may not. Your body will change to fit the needs of the whelp. At this moment, it would seem that you’ll be able to get by on the heat needs with my assistance.”
“How are you better than a heated blanket?”
His brows raise.
I shake my head. “I mean, how can you holding me satisfy that need… more than a heated blanket?” There’s really no polite way to ask that.
Kalos’s lips curve, and I’m grateful he doesn’t take offense. “I can manipulate heat energy since fire is my element. The heat draw of your child doesn’t deplete me in the same way it does to everything or anyone else.”
Like me. The baby is depleting my heat. I’ve only been at this for a week and am already lacking in something that they need.
“It’s your child too,” I whisper.
A flash of pain in Kalos’s eyes has me snapping my mouth shut.
“Yes.” His voice is like rocks grinding together, and he shakes his head. He stands, walking to the window as if to take a moment before responding. “You will move in here of course—”
“Of course? Why would I move in here?” Sometimes I open my mouth before thinking. Kalos turns back and exasperation already edges his mood, but he answers my interruption.
“Because we don’t know how often you’ll need my assistance,” he says patiently.
“Why wouldn’t you just be able to come over to my place for a cuddle?” I ask, even though the idea of this polished man hanging out in my tiny apartment makes me cringe.
Kalos’s jaw tenses. “I wouldn’t be able to protect you as well if you reside elsewhere.”
Technically if I need protection, he could hire a bodyguard, but that statement is hinting at other undercurrents. Dread pools in my belly.
“And are we going to need protection?” I ask.
“Yes.” Kalos pauses before continuing. “I have many enemies, Katarina.”
I blink. “You know my name?”
He looks away as if uncomfortable. “Ben checked your ID.”
So he hadn’t known my name. He didn’t want to. He hadn’t been tempted to find me after I left here that morning. I close my eyes and mentally shove that annoying, needy part of myself away. There are more important things to worry about.
Like, safety.
“These enemies… wouldn’t it be better if I left here and never contact you again?” I ask.
Kalos taps his fingers on his folded arm.
“I considered that, but it only takes one person finding out. That would also mean I wouldn’t be able to help with the pregnancy without putting you in danger.”
And it would be cutting him off from his kid. He doesn’t mention that though. He just found out about expecting a child. I shouldn’t be so bothered how distant he is about it.
I blow out a breath. “What’s the plan? I can’t just stay here forever. I have a job.”
Kalos’s mouth thins. “You live here. Ben can teleport you wherever you need to go. I would request you not take on any more work until after the first year of infancy.”
Not work for over a year? “I can’t do that. I have a business.”
“As the mother, your safety and health are directly connected to our child. There is a bond between the two of you. If anything happens to you—” He stops and doesn’t continue, but I’m starting to follow his train of thought.
“I’m not running into danger—” Oh. “Despite how we met, my business isn’t being a thief. That was a one-off job.”
Kalos narrows his eyes. “You were quite skilled in that arena for it to be a one-off job.”
I shrug and pull the blanket tighter around me. The bone-deep chill is gone, but being wrapped up is still comforting. “I used to steal, and now I don’t.”
Kalos arches a brow. “Except from me.”
“I’m not going to do it again.”
We stare at each other before Kalos tilts his chin up. “What is your business then?”
“I restore artwork.”
He blinks. “Like paintings?”
“Yes, I’m very good.”
There’s a pause as he contemplates that before he arches a brow.
“And how did you get good at it?” he asks like he already knows, and I bite my lips, my cheeks heating.
“I don’t do forgeries anymore either.” I’m good at restoration but fantastic at forgeries.
Kalos nods easily. “Very well.”
There’s a knock at the door, and Kalos calls for the person to enter. Ben comes in. Now that I’m not freezing to death, I can take in details about the man that I hadn’t before. He’s clean-cut with dark hair and eyes. I don’t know what he is, which isn’t a unique thing for me with how clueless I can be about other paranormals, but he doesn’t feel like a witch or a shifter.
He holds a bag of food, and my mouth starts watering.
“You need to start preparing for your meeting with the Leonids unless you want me to reschedule with them,” Ben says.
“No, I don’t want to give them the impression that I’m too busy to handle them,” Kalos says.
Kalos takes the bag of food from Ben. “Give us a moment. When I leave for the meeting, I want you to take Katarina to her place so she can pack up what she’ll need for the next few days.
“You’re not bringing me to the meeting?” Ben asks.
“I need you to get her settled and keep her safe while I’m occupied.”
I raise a brow at that, expecting Kalos’s assistant to balk at being assigned as my watcher, but Ben nods solemnly. “Whatever you need.”
He leaves, and Kalos strolls toward me with the food. “I thought you may be hungry when you woke up.”
“It’s been hard to keep things down. It was trial and error to figure out that I can’t eat cold food.”
Kalos sits and nods, bringing out a Styrofoam container that smells like heaven from the bag and handing it to me. “That nausea shouldn’t be as bad now that you’ve received a surplus of heat.”
He gives me a fork, and I open the container. I don’t know what the food is, but it looks to be slow-cooked beef or pork. My mouth fills with drool, but the very scent of the food is spicy, and my shoulders slump.
“Uh, I don’t eat spicy food.”