Mals first birthday a ha.., p.1

Mal's First Birthday: A Happily Ever After Epilogue Short Story (7 Virgin Brides for 7 Weredragon Billionaires Book 2), page 1


Mal's First Birthday: A Happily Ever After Epilogue Short Story (7 Virgin Brides for 7 Weredragon Billionaires Book 2)

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Mal's First Birthday: A Happily Ever After Epilogue Short Story (7 Virgin Brides for 7 Weredragon Billionaires Book 2)

  Table of Contents

  Mal’s First Birthday ~ A Happily Ever After Epilogue


  Mal’s First Birthday

  Also by Starla Night

  About the Author

  Mal’s First Birthday ~ A Happily Ever After Epilogue

  7 Virgin Brides for 7 Weredragon Billionaires

  Starla Night



  Mal’s First Birthday

  Also by Starla Night

  About the Author


  This is a super sweet “happily ever after” bonus short story for the full length steamy science fiction romance novel Dragon VIP: Malachite. YOU REALLY MUST READ THAT BOOK FIRST!!!

  Read first: Dragon VIP: Malachite

  My newsletter subscribers received this bonus story a week early for free!

  Subscribe to receive future bonus stories here:

  This bonus short story takes place almost two years after the events of the novel — well after the series is complete.

  It was so challenging to write without spoilers! I am deliberately vague and there’s a bit of a “fuzzy cam” over most of the guests. I hope it’s no surprise that by the end of the series, every dragon finds his/her true mate, even if I leave it a mystery as to who they are … and they all come together to have a wonderful first birthday party for Mal + Cheryl’s baby dragonlet.

  But will Mal’s mother recognize her first grand dragonlet? Or, will she subject him to the same lifelong rejection, loneliness, and low class destiny forced upon the Onyx siblings — and Mal?

  Mal’s First Birthday

  21 months into the future … long after the end of the series…

  The day of his son’s first birthday, Mal’s lair was in total chaos.

  Guests weren’t due until 2 PM. His mother would arrive soon after.

  His forearms prickled with nerves.

  He loaded his tiny paintbrush with iridescent paint and tried to focus.

  As an early first birthday present, Uncle Flint had gifted a paint-it-yourself star map of Draconis, and Mal was currently dotting the ceiling with two hundred billion perfectly sized specks so they could show his mother they were raising a well-educated dragonlet.


  Cheryl raced out of the bedroom after their little one. She was soaking wet; her soft shirt clung to her gorgeous, full breasts and outlined the dark, mouth-watering nipples normally hidden beneath layers of hoodie.

  “Arthur Stone Onyx, get back to your bath!”

  Art’s bright eyes focused on Mal at the ceiling. He launched into the air, flying recklessly for the ceiling as he screamed. “Aaahd-aaahd-aaahd-aaahd!”

  Aaahd was as close as he could get to Dad.

  Cheryl snatched his ankle out of the air. Art wiggled unhappily. Pale green dragon scales burst over the pink human skin of his chubby arms. Little claws darted from his fingernails.

  “No claws. No claws!”

  Their baby retracted his claws into his fingers.

  “It’s okay.” Mal opened his arms. “I’ve got him.”

  Cheryl let go.

  The sweet, rambunctious, fearless little ball of scales floated up, out-of-control but undaunted, into Mal’s safe embrace. Mal held him tight.

  Art wiggled. His claws slashed Mal’s paint-dotted T-shirt.

  “Another shirt ruined.” Cheryl sighed from below, tugging her own in ways that made her lush curves more enticing. “And he’s not supposed to fly so unpredictably…”

  “Listen to your mother, Art.”

  Their son gooed.

  “When he sees you, there’s no arguing with him.” Cheryl shook her wet head and smiled. Her shy cheeks colored pink and her brown eyes sparkled.

  The one-year-old was so warm and eager and small. Fierce, protective waves of love washed over Mal and he hugged Art tighter, forgetting about the slashed shirt.

  To think how much had changed in a year … no, much longer than that. Twenty-one months ago. The day Mal called Cheryl into his office and demanded she become his wife, he’d never foreseen how much his life would change. How much he would change, first because of Cheryl, and then because of the miracle birth of their son.

  Art discovered splotches of twinkling paint stuck to Mal’s cheeks. He peeled one up and stuck it into his gummy mouth.

  Mal prized it out. The paint was non-toxic. Probably. But he wouldn’t allow anything less than the safest foods in his son’s diet.

  “Bring him down when you’re done.” Cheryl’s mouth quirked to the side. Her jeans hem dripped on the stone floor; notably, their son was not wet. “We have to finish his bath before Grandma Dee arrives. Has the cake been picked up yet?”

  “It is cooling.”

  “I thought you ordered one.”

  It was Art’s first birthday. “He must have the best cake.”

  “Were you baking all night? I wondered why you never came to bed.”

  He scrubbed his face to clear the exhaustion and then he stroked his son’s dark head. “I will frost it now.”

  “You’re working yourself to death.” She crossed her arms over her damp chest. “Did you get any sleep?”

  Mal floated down to her. With a wiggly Art sandwiched between them, he eased her worried disapproval with a tender kiss. “I’ll sleep when he’s two.”

  She softened, her gaze full of kindness, and stroked his taut shoulders. The sensitive shoulder blades twinged where they concealed his wings. “Today will go well. Our marriage will become official. Your mother will recognize your son.”

  His scales jumped close to the surface of his skin as they always did when he was nervous. Art picked at the scaly green pattern on Mal’s forearm with intense dedication.

  His son was Mal’s whole world. A world denied his own father, and mother as well, until long after Mal had reached adulthood.

  He would not allow the same to happen to his son.

  Mal’s stomach twinged. He held his baby close. “I must check the cake.”

  “Art, we have to finish your bath.” She tried to pull their baby into her arms.

  Art clawed on, stabbing Mal’s tender human skin with little pin-pricks that made him jump, dance, and then work together with Cheryl to un-peel the sticker bush. Eventually, Mal flexed his torso to dragon. The transformation shredded his T-shirt and hardened his skin into impervious scales that pushed his son’s claws out.

  He gave the baby a strip of soft T-shirt.

  Art put it in his mouth and chewed.

  “He’s so determined, just like his father.” She shook her head and carried Art to the bath.

  Mal’s stomach twinged again.

  He returned to human, pulled on a button-up shirt, strode to the kitchen, and rested his human-again palm on the spongy surface of the espresso cake. Still warm. Jasper had offered to bake but Mal tested a recipe he thought would appeal to his mother’s tastes. He didn’t want anything to go wrong today of all days.


  He left the cake on the counter and walked into the main room.

  Inside from the landing pad, Cheryl’s mother, Grandma Dee, stomped off the March snow swirling around Mt. Hood and removed her thick wool jacket. Amber and Darcy ambled behind her unloading baskets, bags, and the rest of the things Amber had flown to Mal’s mountain lair.

  Grandma Dee waved at Mal and called ou
t, “Where’s our proud little dragon man?”

  Art toddled out of the bedroom and across the wide stone living room floor. A white baby bodysuit flapped, unbuttoned at his crotch. He wore one sock. “Gaaaah!”

  “Artie.” She knelt and enfolded him in a warm hug.

  Cheryl hurried after him in a mussed bathrobe and disheveled hair. She held up the second sock.

  “He’s a wild dragon,” she warned. “He couldn’t sleep a wink last night. Just like his father.”

  Art wiggled free, tripped, and flew face-down for the hard stone. Before he smacked the ground with his big head, he abruptly began rising to the cathedral ceiling.

  Cheryl ran forward to catch him.

  Grandma Dee was faster. She leaped and caught the flapping end of his bodysuit. Pulling him down again, she fitted his tether around his ankle and securely fastened the other end to her wrist.

  The risk of dragon babies wasn’t that they would fall and hit the floor, but that they would over-compensate and knock into the ceiling.

  Art bounced on the end of the tether. He rolled in the air and giggled at his gran.

  She pulled him down and teased him, wiggling her fingers over his ticklish body. “Are you a wild man? Are you a silly dragon? Let’s get you some breakfast so your mom and dad can get dressed.”

  Cheryl watched them go to the kitchen. She turned to Amber and Darcy, welcoming them and showing them where to stow the food, presents, and party supplies.

  Amber followed Mal to the kitchen. “I’ve brought special frosting.”

  He growled. “This is my cake.”

  She hesitated. Her tone remained mild; she was trying not to challenge him. “Our mother is sure to enjoy it.”

  His roar died in his throat. “The cake is nearly cooled.”

  It was a testament to his growth that he didn’t roar her out of the kitchen for daring to offer assistance on the most important day of his son’s life. It was a testament to her caring that she came earlier than she was supposed to, brought Cheryl’s mother in addition to her other burdens, and had created a special frosting.

  She opened the tub. The special frosting sparkled.

  “Brimstone?” he asked.

  She nodded. “A taste of home, I thought. And no one is now pregnant.”

  Brimstone only affected humans who were pregnant with dragonlets. When Cheryl had been kidnapped by their arch rival, Sard Carnelian had made the mistake of feeding her brimstone candy. She had been unaware of the effects – or her pregnancy – and had accidentally totaled his office with fire damage.

  The memory made Mal almost misty-eyed with pride.

  Their brother Pyro sauntered into the kitchen, the last flakes melting on his conservative, wild-tattoo-concealing business suit. “Hey. You look wrecked.”

  Mal yawned. “It’s to be expected.”

  “Why don’t you grab a nap?” The bad boy cracked open the top on the six-tray stack of veggies Amber had brought, dipped a carrot into creamy spread, and crunched. He grinned at her quiet disapproval. “We’ll watch your back.”

  “We?” he repeated, giving into a growl. Pyro’s irresponsibility had nearly destroyed their company during Mal’s honeymoon. “I’m not leaving you in charge all alone.”

  “All alone?” Jasper entered the kitchen with bottles of wine. “No Onyx will be left all alone.”

  His brothers had arrived early too. Their babies played in the living room, gooing and growling, with Grandma Dee and the human mates.

  Mal swallowed.

  Once, the siblings had barely spoken. It had taken all his will to rally them together to come to Earth. Now, they filled his lair voluntarily and spoke with closeness. They had become what few dragons had ever accomplished. They had become a real family.

  “You must rest so you do not collapse when our mother arrives,” Jasper told him.

  “I can handle it,” Mal growled. Although, he was so tired his eyes crossed. He blinked harshly to clear the confusion.

  The other dragons regarded him with unreserved skepticism.

  “I will!”

  Pyro flexed his sledgehammer fist. “I can make you lie down.”

  Scarred security officer Kyan crossed the kitchen and put a quelling hand on the VP. “Mal needs his strength.”

  “And we are over-stepping.” Alex raised one arched brow. Impeccable, as always, the exotic turquoise and lavender dragon smiled with a twist of irony. “Cheryl must convince him .”

  Amber disappeared and returned a moment later, ushering a still-disheveled, robe-clad Cheryl into the kitchen. “Tell Mal he must rest. Use your feminine wiles.”

  Cheryl reddened.

  “Feminine wiles?” Mal raised his brows at Darcy. “Is this your influence?”

  Darcy grinned. “Don’t change the subject.”

  Mal’s blushing wife stood in the center of the kitchen, surrounded by dragons, all eyes on her. She hugged herself, cheeks an adorable fiery red. “Mal. Rest. P-please.”

  He refused her nothing.

  “Fine.” He scooped her into his arms like a princess and glared at the others. “Get me the instant something goes wrong.”

  “Goes wrong?” Pyro’s dangerous lips twisted. “You won’t recognize this lair when you get back.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “Mal.” Cheryl pinched Mal’s forearm, her embarrassment rising the longer her forced her to remain in the public eye. “Let’s go.”

  He stomped into the bedroom. Shutting out the noise via the impenetrable stone walls and locking the door, he placed her gently on the bed and turned away. “You rest. I have no time.”

  “You can barely see straight.” Cheryl snagged his belt loop, arresting him. “Lie with me.”

  He looked over his shoulder, down at her. “Are these your feminine wiles?”

  Her lips parted and then she flushed. “Ah … You didn’t come to bed last night. So, I wouldn’t mind…”

  His cock pulsed with heat. “Do not tempt me.”

  “No?” She tugged him toward her playfully, her lips parting and her eyes sparkling. “You’ve been working so hard.”

  “I must work harder.”

  “Are you sure?” She teased the front of his trousers, caressing his semi-hard length. “I think you’ll, uh, be more productive after you rest.”

  Her terrycloth robe parted to reveal a comfy cotton nightshirt. The points of her nipples, just visible through the soft fabric, made him stifle a groan.

  She hesitated, doubt betrayed in her tone. “Unless you don’t want me. I mean, to.”

  Her provocative invitation cracked his self-control.

  Even after nearly two years, she doubted her power over him?

  He pounced on top of her and covered her mouth in a melting, hot kiss.

  She returned it with a sigh of delicious enthusiasm.

  Cupping her cheeks, he thrust his tongue into her hungry mouth. They tangled, taking each other desperately, needing what only the other could give.

  His cock hardened to full prowess. He kneed between her soft thighs and ground against her soft feminine heat so she would know just how hotly she stoked his desire.

  Cheryl whimpered and twined her legs around the backs of his knees. Her clever fingers worked the buttons on his shirt.

  He flexed his broad shoulders to dragon. The cloth shredded.

  She freed her mouth long enough to murmur. “Buttons?”

  “This is more expedient.”

  He flexed a claw and sliced her nightshirt down the center.


  He flexed back to human hands and parted the cotton, baring her to hungry gaze.

  Her fingers twitched and she clenched the bedspread. “But … it’s a waste…”

  Even after all they had shared, she felt shy revealing herself to him.

  “No. Time is a waste.” He rose over her trembling body again and nipped her berry-soft lips. “I must be closer to you.”

  Her vul
nerable smile warmed him like a sun. He paused, his heart swelling for a second time as he looked down upon his lover, his champion, his wife.

  Her smile widened. They connected not only in their bodies, but also in their souls.

  He nuzzled her. “You are my life.”

  She rewarded him with a generous kiss that left them both gasping with hunger. He struggled to control himself, nibbling sweet words into her sensitive neck.

  And then he honored her bravery by worshipping her body.

  First, he palmed the breasts he had admired. She moaned, her protests melted into pleasure.

  Although she no longer nursed Art, her breasts filled his hands with gentle magnificence. He nuzzled the soft orbs that had sustained his son and sucked the dark jewel tips into his mouth.

  She knotted her hands in his dark hair. “Thank you.”

  No, he was the one consumed by gratitude.

  He feasted on the soft scoops of her creamy breasts topped by dusky nipples, and then he trailed his loving mouth across the gentle curve of her belly that had once safely borne his dragonlet, and finally treated himself to the arousing feminine heat at her slick, silken vee.

  He tongued her with the long, powerful strokes she loved. She gasped at his domination and opened wider. He could lose himself in her scent, her heat, her flavor, but she tugged on his hair, wanting the hard girth of his cock.

  Mal gave in to her desire, rising over her body and positioning his throbbing cock head between her trembling thighs.

  She was more than ready for him.

  Twining her legs around his once more, she drew his hard cock into her channel. They fit together, lock and key, and both groaned with the rightness.

  He pulled out and thrust again, deeper, and a third time, burying his cock all the way to the hilt.

  She sighed, soaking in the pleasure of their connection. Then, she gripped his buttocks, pulling him taut against her, and rocking him against her hottest spot.

  Pleasure flooded his senses.

  He tightened his abdomen so the base of his cock ground against her swollen feminine lips with every pounding thrust. This too he had learned during their marriage. And he looked forward to the years in which he could learn how to please her even more.

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