“We’re not Kevins, Avrell,” Sayer snarls, angry at the insinuation. “We discussed this before it happened. We took care of her. She’s our mate.”
Avrell’s face softens in confusion as he tries to figure it all out. Eventually, he lets out a heavy sigh. “It’ll wear off. My suggestion is you let the toxica fade before you double dose her with it.”
“Our mortling?” I ask, suddenly worried we put the little one at risk.
“The mortling is fine,” he clips out. “Take good care of your mate. She deserves it.”
He storms away, leaving us with our giggling mate, who teases us by pulling her blanket off and reveals her breasts.
Rekk, we’re never going to leave this bed.
***
Food. Our mate loves food, especially when we take turns feeding it to her. And, turns out, it helps the double toxica dose to wear off, too. We’re all three lying in bed, once again naked—now that Avrell’s gone—because it’s better that way. Her warm skin pressed between us is nice.
“Can we stay in this room forever?” she asks absently. “Out there, I’m a villain. In here, I’m a queen.”
I lick the sweet juices from the fruit from her lips. “What is a queen?”
“She’s royalty. There are people who serve and adore her.” She smiles at us both.
“Then, yes, you are our queen,” Sayer says fiercely.
“Oh,” she gasps. “The baby is moving.” She rubs her stomach. “Depending on the sex, it could be a prince or a princess.”
“An offspring to a queen?” I muse aloud.
She nods. “And to kings.”
Satisfied by her words, I relax. That is, until she speaks again.
“What’s happening with us?” she mutters.
I shrug. “We’re together now. The three of us.”
Her brows furrow as though she doesn’t know what to make of it. “But the two of you were mates. With years and years of love and history. I’m an outsider, prying her way in. I don’t belong.”
Sayer shakes his nog. “Then why does it feel so right?”
Her nostrils flare, but she has nothing to say.
“We both want you and you want us,” I remind her.
“But what about out there? What happens when everyone finds out that you’re not only together, but I’ve joined the mix? What will they think?”
Sayer clenches his jaw and frowns. Truth is, I’ve thought about this a lot. Hadrian and Theron will find it entertaining. Draven won’t care. Breccan already knows, and so does Avrell. Oz and Galen might be bothered, but I can’t find it in me to worry over their opinions. Calix is too busy doting over his newborn son to worry over such things.
But the aliens? Aria, Emery, and Molly? I’m not sure what they will think.
“Your faces tell me you’re worried,” Grace says with tears in her eyes.
A growl rumbles from Sayer. “We’re not worried. We were just considering their reactions.”
“But,” I finish for him. “It doesn’t matter what they think. All that matters is how the three of us feel. And, I for one, feel really rekking good.”
“A feisty alien and a ‘fucking freak,’” Sayer says with a laugh. “It’s all this mort could ever ask for.”
She gives us a sweet smile.
“You may be uncertain about a lot, sweet female,” I say with a kiss to her lips. “But you never have to be uncertain about us.”
13
Grace
I’m snuggled between the two morts and even though I miss the life I used to have I can’t imagine being anywhere else. Sayer is pressed against my front, reclined on his back and snoring softly. In sleep, his poetic beauty is even more entrancing, especially with his long hair draped over the bed underneath him.
I want them so much it hurts.
I want to keep them.
I want to be theirs, like they said.
They seem so sincere when they said those things the night before.
Could it be possible?
It’s the what-ifs that make me second-guess myself.
What if they change their minds? What if something goes wrong with the baby and we lose our prince or princess? Would they still want me then? What if the rest of the morts and their mates don’t accept a relationship between the three of us?
There are so many things that could go wrong, and it terrifies me.
Jareth stirs behind me and throws a hand over us both. It’s like he can sense when I’m upset, even in his sleep. Sayer and I share the intense attraction from the pheromones, but with Jareth, there’s something about the way he seems to know me. It’s the same way I’ve seen him look at a malfunctioning gadget and figure out the problem. If I’m being honest, he and I have a lot in common in that respect.
The two of them are the perfect complement. To each other…and to me.
I stay locked in between them, unable to sleep, but perfectly content. Throughout the morning, they shift, lock hands, Sayer rubs my stomach, Jareth kneads my back, all in a half-doze, like they’ve done it every day. Like we were meant to be together.