Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
By the time the first snows came, Tyr found himself spending his days either soaking in the hot springs pool or in his kitchen, experimenting with different foods.
He and Sloan both laughed about it a lot, because after all, he was pregnant. He was supposed to be sick to his stomach. He was supposed to be queasy and grumpy and unhappy, and he just wasn’t.
He found himself tiring quickly, absolutely. But except for that—
Tyr chuckled at himself as he stood there in the kitchen, moonlight pouring in on him, a bag of candies in his hand as he searched for something sour and wonderful.
Where were the pickles?
Surely they had pickles.
He knew they’d just opened a jar. He just needed to find out where Sloan had put them.
He knew for a fact that they’d traded for some, damn it.
Grumbling under his breath, he headed down the stairs, just to look at the cold storage. There were quite a few jars from Myk’s kitchen, actually.
But most of them were empty.
How on earth could he have gone through six jars of pickles already?
It wasn’t reasonable to think they’d gone through so many jars, they’d eaten so many pickles. He wasn’t that pregnant—his belly was still flat, he hadn’t felt a quickening.
Still, the pickles were the only thing that satisfied him and the weird ache deep in his belly.
“What are you doing?”
Sloan’s voice surprised him, and he jumped, his feet leaving the floor. One of the empty jars fell from the shelf, almost crashing to the ground. Thank goodness for Sloan’s quick reflexes, one of his mate’s hands flashing out to snatch it from the air.
“Oh, you startled me.”
Sloan tilted his head. “Obviously. Are you all right?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
That tilt went deeper. “You don’t seem fine.”
He stared at Sloan and then burst into tears. “I can’t stop eating pickles. I’m not pregnant enough to be needing pickles all the time, am I? I mean… what if I’m just eating pickles?”
Sloan gave him a long, silent stare, put the empty jar back up on the shelf, then pulled out another jar full of vinegary goodness. “You’re pregnant. You want pickles? Eat pickles. They’re good for you. No harm is going to come to you because you decided you craved pickles.”
Tyr sniffled. “We’re almost out.”
“We’ll trade for more.” Sloan just seemed so unconcerned.
“What if I’m not good at being a father? What if I’m a bad omega? Mate, what if I’m only supposed to have bees?”
“If all we ever have is bees I would be happy. But we’re having a baby.
Our baby. And you’re tired. The baby might not be moving yet, or showing on your body from the outside, but they are pulling energy from deep within you.
They are working on growing using your magic.
If pickles make that better, I will trade for every jar in the village and on the mountain. ”
Tyr sniffled, letting Sloan take him in those strong arms as he clutched the jar of pickles. “I like Myk’s pickles best.”
“Then I will ask him to pickle anything we have left that can be done in a brine…” Sloan kissed the tip of his nose. “And the fact that you are worried about being a good omega father means you will be. If you were utterly confident, I would worry about your sanity.”
“What? Do you really think so?”
Sloan rocked him gently. “Of course, I really think so. You’re going to be an amazing father, and I’m going to try really hard.” Sloan winked at him. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Is it common here to be alone, like just a couple, when you’re having children?
Because I’ve noticed from talking to the Rocky Mountain clutch, and even Cosmo and Cullen and all that—they tend to have large hives, so to speak, when they’re having babies.
So I was just curious if you wanted to go and stay closer to your sister this winter?
” Sloan nuzzled him, slowly easing him back up the stairs.
“I could ask her if she’d like to come. I just wasn’t sure what you thought would be best. I can also ask Brayden and Riley if they’d like to come back for the winter… ”
Honestly, Tyr hadn’t thought about it a ton. In his estimation, when a dragon lived in the village close by, they had dragons everywhere to help. Others to be a support and a comfort, much like the hives.
And then there was them doing this very much on their own. What would Harden do if he were pregnant?
“I have to admit, I don’t know. Normally, I think my twin would have been with me. And we would have been a group, perhaps with my sister. Although, I don’t know.”
It made him a bit nervous not to know.
“Well, it’s not a big deal. I don’t care.
We don’t have to have a huge group of people or even a small group of people.
I was just wondering, because you seemed so worried, that perhaps this was something which traditionally has been done in a group setting.
And whether or not it would be, if you would feel better if we went down into town more often, visited Harden.
Had my brothers come, or go down to see your sister.
” Sloan shrugged. “Or what if we have them here?”
Tyr nodded, the words making sense. “Perhaps, yes. The Friend Feast is coming, and we’ll all get together then.
But you’re right. Usually in the fall and winter, I spend many days in town or at Harden’s or being social because I’ve worked all summer.
And this winter, I have something more important to think about.
Two more important things. My mate and my child.
” He grinned at Sloan. “So. Perhaps you have a point. Perhaps we need to have more visitors?”
“We’ll extend the invite.” Sloan just loved on him, and it was the most amazing thing. So wondrous to be in his love’s arms after his little meltdown in their lower rooms.
“Thank you. Did I ever thank you for dancing with me? I don’t think I did.
” He could tell that Sloan had not danced much in his life, but his mate had an innate grace about him that allowed him to do all manner of physical things well.
And they had danced several times since.
In the pool. Out with the dormant hives.
Everywhere.
“That’s pure pleasure, my love.” Sloan turned them, guiding him and his jar of pickles back up into the main part of the house.
In the kitchen, Sloan put them together a little bowl of those wondrous pickles along with some pungent cheese, which also satisfied the urge in his belly, and some sliced radishes, which he loved.
They were from Myk’s garden as well. They were hot and spicy, and they had something similar native to Lunastra, but harok was much milder and less likely to make his nose feel like it was burning a little when he bit them.
Then Sloan led him to their front room, which was a nest of blankets and pillows now on their big sofas, and they curled together, Sloan’s lips on the top of his head, his braids draped across Sloan’s chest.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t dance with you at the festival?” Sloan teased.
“I was worried that you wouldn’t. I think I had built it up so much in my mind over all of the years that I was without a mate that I worried that it wouldn’t measure up. But it was perfect.”
“I’m glad, love. I want this whole experience for you to be as perfect as it can. Just like today with the pickles. I know it won’t always be; that’s not how life works. But if I start to screw up again like I did when I went to your sister’s—”
He stopped Sloan right there. “We both had to learn how to live with someone else. You’re used to your brothers who you command as the eldest, and I’m used to my bees, who ask a lot of me but then give me a great deal too. So I tend to put them first. Next year, we’ll do better.”
“We will. We have the whole winter and the early spring to get to know each other so much better.”
“Will you be flying patrols with Cade this winter?”
Sloan chuckled. “Cade tells me that he doesn’t need me to be as active in the winter. I suppose because dragons don’t travel as much during that time.” Sloan stroked Tyr’s arm, fingers dancing along his tunic. “It’s harder in the winter, maybe. I think perhaps he just wants me to leave him alone.”
He pinched Sloan’s nipple through his shirt, making his love jump.
“Ow!”
“Cade is your friend, Sloan. He would never ask you to go away and leave him alone.” Well, that might be strongly worded.
“But he is accustomed to doing his job his way. I think it would be like asking Harden to let you herd his animals. We’re all set in our ways.
” He glanced up, finding that curious gleam in Sloan’s eyes that he knew meant questions about their village life.
“So what happens if someone new wants to be the animal herder in a village like ours?”
“They can be! We have more than one. Harden just happens to be my friend.”
Sloan blinked a little bit because that obviously had never occurred to him. “But you’re the only beekeeper.”
“So far I’m the only one who’s shown any patience for it.
I’ve had apprentices, but perhaps I’m too exacting.
Or maybe they moved on to form their own hives somewhere else once they learned what they needed to learn from me.
I really don’t know. We haven’t stayed in touch.
” Sometimes that hurt his heart; he’d had some very good friends who’d just disappeared on him over the years, but that was the way of dragons sometimes.
When they decided to go, they left, and they took their magic with them.
Or maybe, just maybe, some of them had gone to the special places where the fey had touched and now they made honey there. He didn’t know.
He did like to wonder, though, to imagine where the world would take different beings.
Tyr belonged here. He’d never had the urge to wander, not like his twin, not like Riley. He’d always just wanted his home.
And now it’s ours. And we can snuggle.
I know! Next winter, we will have a brand-new baby to cuddle and love.
“You’re so brilliant, did you know that?” Sloan asked him, and Tyr blinked up.
“What?”
“You caught pregnant with our baby when you could rest, and now we’ll have an infant when we can focus on that.” Sloan beamed at him.
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” But it was very handy, wasn’t it?
“Your magic did. I have no question.”
Tyr’s cheeks went hot as fire, but with pleasure. “I am not so magical.”
“Of course you are.” Sloan petted him, the touches gentle and sweet. “You make me so proud.”
My mate. He sighed softly, his entire body melting into his lover’s arms. He groaned and stretched. “Do you think I smell like pickles?”
“No, love. The jar of pickles smells like pickles. Did someone tease you about it?”
Tyr chuckled. “Harden said I smelled like brine. I didn’t think so, but—”
“I will kick him in the shin if you want me to,” Sloan offered with a wide grin.
“Oh, that would be nice, but only after we get the baby larparcas in the spring. I would hate to lose them.”
“Good point.” Sloan laughed a little. “Do you feel better?”
“I do. Thank you. I felt so worried that I was being a bad omega, that I was doing something really wrong.” He lifted his face for a kiss. “Thank you for your help.”
“You are very welcome, mate. We’ve got this.” Sloan just let them rest together, sinking into the couch and blankets.
He hummed and cuddled in, leaning hard. “I love you.”
They could just doze, right here. It was warm and cozy.