Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan By Kellie Brown
Chapter 15 He Doesn’t Come To The Restaurant
Tanya’s POV:
I can’t move fast enough as I race to get ready after work. Excitement courses through me, and I can’t wait to see Marco. The note said to meet him at the Dumonet, which is one of the fanciest restaurants in the capital. I stop by Marco’s townhouse and rummage through the new wardrobe. I’m still not used to having so many expensive clothes to choose from, and it takes me a few minutes to pick out an outfit I think my husband will like.
I chose a red a-line gown, the same shade as the bouquet he sent for me. It has drooping sleeves of scarlet chiffon, a delicately fitted waistline that swoops into flowing ruffles, and pleats that resemble petals. The red fabric contrasts my snow-white skin, and I tie my sleek black hair into a graceful half-updo, pinning one of the roses from the bouquet into my hair. I try not to think of Marco’s lips as I quickly apply a soft, rosy shade tint over my nervous smile. I can only hope to look as lovely as a flower for him.
When I arrive at the beautiful restaurant, the waiter leads me to a candlelight table.
“Would you like to order, miss?” he asks.
I’m hit by the smell of sweet spices and freshly cooked delights, but I shake my head gently.
“Not yet, thank you. I’m waiting for someone.”
The waiter walks away, attending to the various guests in the restaurant. Most of them are couples, and I try not to stare at how they swoon and celebrate together. Soft music is playing in the background as lovers drink and dine all around me.
After an hour goes by, the waiter returns for the fourth time.
“Miss… can I at least get you a drink while you wait? Or maybe an appetizer?”
I turn him down politely. Marco didn’t specify what time he would be arriving tonight, but I’ll wait for him as long as it takes. A few of the other patrons notice that I’m still sitting alone. I lower my gaze to avoid their curious glances, ignoring their whispers. I fiddle with the napkin on my lap, running my fingers through the fabric in an attempt to distract myself.
Another hour goes by, and my eyes keep staring at the front door whenever someone walks through it, but there’s still no sign of Marco. I tell myself he’s a royal, so it’s only natural that he’s busy. After all, I wasn’t even expecting to celebrate Valentine’s Day with him, so I shouldn’t mind waiting.
So I wait some more.
My back goes stiff from sitting in the same position for so long, and my thoughts start to wander to the dark and lonely corners of my mind. After yet another hour passes, I begin to doubt myself. Maybe I’m at the wrong restaurant. Maybe I misunderstood. Maybe Marco got held up somehow.
Or maybe I’m just not worth it.
I wrap my arms around myself as if I could shield myself from the thought. My gaze subconsciously falls onto the elegant golden ring on my finger. The round diamond sparkles in the candlelight, making me think of the glint in Marco’s eyes. I never would have dreamt of marrying a prince, never expected to be so lucky. But here I am.
When Marco came into my life, he changed everything. He gave me hope, and now I can’t seem to stifle it. I hope to make him happy, even if it’s just for a while. I hope to make him proud and ease his troubles, even if it’s just an arrangement. I hope for him to walk through that door, even if it takes all night.
Hours keep trickling by, and one by one, the guests begin to leave. Waiters start clearing the tables as they wrap up for the night. I don’t even know what time it is. I can feel the people in the restaurant staring at me with pity and embarra*s*sment. With every passing minute, I feel another crack in my heart, but I stay firmly planted in my seat.
He could walk in any minute.
“We’re closing soon, miss,” the waiter says, his patience having run out a long time ago.
“I’ll just wait a little longer if that’s okay.”
Clouds are gathering outside the Dumonet by the time the restaurant manager comes by to tell me they’re done operating for the day, and I need to get out so they can close up. Rain starts to pour as I’m f*orc*ed to leave the restaurant. Anyone left on the streets either pulls out an umbrella and hurries away or shifts into a wolf to run off and avoid the downpour.
But I have neither umbrella nor wolf, so all I can do is curl up on the sidewalk as the rain drenches me. I sit in the rain, waiting and hoping.
Marco’s POV:
I don’t know at what point I got used to having Tanya around. She’s such a quiet and constant presence that in a short period of time, I became accustomed to having her in my life, as if she’d always been there.
I’m used to taking care of myself, never relying on others. I don’t need a wife to wait for me every night with a warm meal and a soft light. But somehow, the fact that she does it because she wants to, not because she has to, makes it that more special. Ever since she became a part of my household, Tanya has left a single light on by the entrance of the townhouse. Every evening, she prepares dinner and waits for me, leaving that light on like a beacon in a lighthouse to guide and welcome me home.
Home.
I can’t remember the last time I felt that way. No one told Tanya to do it; I certainly didn’t ask for it, but she does it anyway. When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed, but Tanya does things simply because she wants to help. She cares, and she makes a house feel like a home.
But tonight, there is no light.
It’s pretty late for her to be out, but maybe she needed to buy some last-minute ingredients for dinner, or perhaps she stayed working late. Either way, I try not to let the darkness of the townhouse bother me as I make my way home.
“Marco!”
Cathy’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts as my sister runs into me.
“Thank the Goddess, I’m glad you’re home. I knew you wouldn’t be foolish enough to take that little tramp out for dinner tonight.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, frowning at her words.
“I think someone is playing a prank on your new wife, brother,” she says with a chuckle, but I don’t share her amusement. I clench my hands into fists at the way she says the word ‘wife’ like it’s an insult. “Someone sent roses to Tanya at work today with a note to meet her for Valentine’s Day dinner at the Dumonet. I figured someone else must have sent them since you’d never go for a romantic dinner on a full moon, but I just wanted to make sure.”
Rain continues to fall around us, soaking through the night. The image of Tanya waiting at home with a light on and a homecooked meal is replaced with the idea of her sitting in a restaurant, cold and alone, waiting for me. Concern stirs within my wolf. It takes me less than a heartbeat to decide what to do, and I let out a frustrated growl as I push past my sister and start rushing toward the restaurant.
“Marco, what are you doing?!” Cathy calls after me, but I ignore her. “Brother, tonight is a full moon! Have you lost your mind? If you go find her….”
The sound of the rain drowns out her words, and I don’t slow down. Fear is not in my nature, not even tonight. I have a responsibility to my wife, and I won’t abandon her, even as the magic of my wolf ripples through me. Every step is faster than the last, sending water splashing across the pavement. How long has Tanya been waiting for me? What must she think?
I grit my teeth, trying to suppress my rage as claws appear on my fingertips. I feel the lycan transformation threatening to take over, making me faster and swifter as I run through the street. When I reach the Dumonet, the restaurant is closed, and there is no sight of Tanya.
I curse under my breath, scanning my surroundings. Where is she? Where could she have gone? Rage and worry brew within me. What if something happened to her? It’s pouring rain, and Tanya is pregnant. There’s a hollowness in my chest that I don’t recognize at the thought of Tanya, all alone in the cold and damp darkness. I need to make sure she’s safe. Not just because I have a responsibility to protect her as a husband, but because of… something else I don’t quite understand. All I know is that I need to find her.
I turn on my heel, ready to head back down the street, and continue searching for her, but then I catch a glimpse of red over by the sidewalk. Tanya doesn’t run from the rain or seek shelter herself from the cold. She just sits there, crouched on the curb outside the restaurant, soaking and shivering.
My wife is waiting for me.