The training concluded with a final clash of wood on wood, the warriors dispersing in groups of twos and threes, their breath still misting in the cold air. My mates broke from their sparring and came to stand before me; a wall of male perfection that made my mouth go dry despite my exhaustion. They were filthy, covered in snow and sweat and the dirt of the training ground, their muscles gleaming where they had stripped down to fight, their hair plastered to their foreheads, their chests heaving with exertion. They looked like gods of war, like conquerors, like everything I had ever wanted and somehow been lucky enough to claim.
"Are you ready to go home?" Ravin asked, his voice rough and deep, his golden eyes softening when they found mine.
"Yes," I breathed, already dreading the walk back. My hips ached, my back screamed, and my feet felt swollen to twice their size inside my fur-lined boots. Just another month, I reminded myself, one hand finding the heavy curve of my belly. Just one more month and these cubs would be born, and maybe I could walk like a normal person again.
Veylan appeared beside me, his silver eyes assessing me with that wolf perception that seemed to see everything I tried to hide. Before I could protest, he bent and scooped me up, one arm behind my knees, the other supporting my back, lifting me as if I weighed nothing at all.
"Veylan!" I let out a yelp of surprise, my arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. "Put me down. I am so heavy."
"You are as light as a feather for me," he said, his voice rumbling against my ear as he settled me against his chest. "Just stay still. I saw how you struggled just to get here. Let me carry you."
My heart squeezed at his words, a painful tightness in my chest. I had thought they did not notice me while they trained, thought their focus was entirely on their opponents and their forms. But they had seen. They always saw. Especially Veylan, my quiet wolf, who watched me with the patience of a predator and the tenderness of a mate.
There was no jealousy as we walked back to our home, the other males falling into step around us, forming a protective circle. They all enjoyed taking care of me, I had learned, each in their own way. It was not a competition but a shared devotion, a pleasure they took in serving the female who had chosen them.
Back at the house, Ravin went straight to the bathing area with the cubs to bathe them and bath himself. They had gotten so much better with baths, had learned the routine and mostly accepted it, but they still had their moments. Like yesterday, when Ryder had tossed a bar of soap directly into Leon’s face, hitting him square in the eye. While Leon had been doubled over, trying to wash the stinging pain from his eyes, the other three cubs had launched themselves at him, thinking his distress was an invitation to play. By the time Ravin had intervened, Leon had been covered in wet, soapy cubs, half-blind and completely defeated. Ravin’s stern scolding had sent them whimpering to the corner, tails between their legs, but their pouts had lasted only until they were dry and fed.
After the cubs, Leon bathe himself then took over the cooking tonight, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he chopped roots and herbs for a soup that would warm us against the winter chill. Soryn still wet from his own bath settled behind me on the furs, his serpent hands finding the knots in my shoulders, working them with devastating precision until I was limp and sighing. They were so attentive, so completely focused on my comfort, that I felt my love for them expanding in my chest, pressing against my ribs, overwhelming in its intensity. I had not thought it possible to love them more than I already did, but every day proved me wrong.
After dinner and baths, they did their usual ritual. Paper, rock, scissors, the game I had taught them from my world, now used to decide who would share my bed each night. It had become a tradition, a small competition that kept them from arguing while giving me the comfort of knowing they all desired me equally.
Veylan participated this time, I noticed. He used to stay back, the guilt had kept him from thinking he deserved me, but tonight he threw his hand in with the rest.
Leon was the first to lose, his scissors cut by Ravin’s rock. He was visibly upset, his dark eyes darkening, his lip pushing out in a pout that was almost comical on such a fierce warrior. Next was Soryn, his paper covered by Caelion’s scissors. The serpent did not look pleased, his tail twitching with agitation, but he conceded with grace, bowing his head to the victor.
That left Ravin, Caelion, and Veylan. They faced off, three powerful males, their eyes intense, their hands raised. On three, they threw. Ravin’s rock, Caelion’s scissors, Veylan’s paper. Paper covered rock. Caelion’s scissors cut nothing.
Veylan won.
I blinked, surprised, and saw the same shock on his face before it melted into something fierce and possessive. He looked at me, his silver eyes glowing, and I felt a shiver run down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
After we had eaten, after I had kissed each of my babies goodnight and tucked them into their furs, I took my bath, enjoying the warm water scrubbing the grime and sweat away before I went to Veylan’s room. It was intimate, the walls lined with his few possessions, the air smelling of wolf and pine and home. He helped me out of my layers, his hands careful with my swollen body, and helped me onto the bed, tucking the furs around me before climbing in beside me.
He held me, his chest to my back, his arm draped over my belly, his breath warm against my neck. We lay there in the darkness, the silence comfortable, the fire crackling low in the corner.
Why did I feel this sense of déjà vu? Then I remembered. Soryn had done this too, long ago, when I finally wholeheartedly accepted that he was a snake beast and I was okay with it.
I turned in Veylan’s arms, facing him, my belly pressing against his hard stomach. "Veylan," I whispered, my voice small in the dark. "Don’t you want to do it?"
He was silent for a moment, his silver eyes finding mine. Then he shook his head, his hand coming up to brush hair from my face. "No," he said gently. "You are so heavy with pregnancy. You are already so uncomfortable as it is. I do not want to add to that."
I don’t know why, but I felt like crying. Damn stupid pregnancy hormones. My eyes filled with tears, hot and humiliating, and I turned away, trying to hide my face in the furs.
"No... oh no, Krys." Veylan’s voice sounded so concerned, panicked even. He turned me back, his hands cupping my face, forcing me to look at him. "Why are you crying?"
"Because" I sobbed, hating how pathetic I sounded, "you don’t find me attractive. I feel fat. I feel so insecure."
"Who says anything about not finding you attractive?" Veylan’s voice dropped, rough and fierce. "Krys, you are like a walking treat that I fight every day not to consume. Do you know how hard it is to be near you and not touch you? To see you every day and not claim you until you can’t walk straight?"
I sniffled, looking up at him through my tears. "Really?"
"Yes," he growled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Really, Krys. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. These curves, this fullness, it drives me mad."
"But I want it," I whispered, embarrassment burning through me, but need stronger than shame. "Fuck embarrassment. I’m horny, damn it."
Veylan’s eyes darkened, the silver turning almost black in the firelight. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "Are you very sure?"
"Yes," I said, reaching for him, my hands finding his shoulders, his neck, his hair. "Very sure. Veylan, I want you."
He moved like lightning then, like the predator he was. He kissed me, his mouth crushing mine, his tongue sweeping inside to taste me, to claim me. His hands were everywhere, hungry and possessive, roaming over my swollen breasts, my rounded belly, the heavy curve of my hips. He kissed every part of me he could reach, my throat, my collarbone, the swell of my breast above my makeshift gown, whispering between each press of his lips how beautiful I was, how perfect, how much he wanted me.
Then he was there, his mouth between my legs, his tongue finding my core with devastating accuracy. He licked and sucked at my clit, his long tongue flicking and circling in ways that made me cry out, my hands fisting in the furs, my back arching off the platform. He ate me like a starving man, like I was the only thing that could satisfy him, his growls vibrating against my sensitive flesh until I was trembling, until I was begging, until I was so close I could taste it.
Then he pushed himself inside me, and I cried out in pleasure, the sound echoing in the small room. He was thick, hot, filling me completely, and he ground himself deep, his hips snapping against mine with controlled force. He was slow and gentle, mindful of my belly, but he did not hold back the depth, did not spare me the full length of him, grinding his cock against that spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyelids.
"So tight," he groaned, his forehead pressed against mine, his silver eyes locked on my face. "So perfect. My mate. My female."
He thrust again, and again, each movement deliberate and devastating, his body working mine with the patience of a wolf who has finally caught his prey. I could feel my orgasm building, not fast and sharp like usual, but deep and rolling, a tide that was pulling me under.
"Veylan," I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Please. Please."
"Let go," he commanded, his voice rough. "Come for me, Krys. Come on my cock."
I did. I came with a cry that I muffled against his neck, my body convulsing around him, the pleasure mind-blowing in its intensity, wave after wave crashing through me until I was limp and gasping and utterly content. He followed me soon after, his own release coming with a growl and a shudder, his seed spilling hot inside me, his arms wrapping around me to hold me through the aftershocks.
We stayed like that, joined, breathing hard, the fire crackling low. He was still inside me, still hard, and I felt cherished and claimed and perfectly, completely satisfied.
"Thank you," I whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest.
He laughed, the sound tired and happy. "Any time, my mate. Any time."
He pulled out of me before pulling me against him and holding me, we went to sleep like that, and I was surrounded by warmth and love and the promise of tomorrow.