Epilogue
Hue
My eyes open to a volley of little hands smacking at my cheeks. I grab them with a groan, passing the four-orbit-old to Melion despite the child's protests. “I just need five minutes of sleep. Just five minutes of mommy time, okay?”
“Gonna miss his call!” the furious child roars from inside his shadowy best friend that he bonded with at age one.
Something that had me nearly ripping my hair out by the roots.
It is young to bond, even by Xyrelith standards, but that is largely left up to the child.
I sigh, heaving myself and my massive belly out of the field of flowers I had snuck into for a nap.
Being heavily pregnant with a small child in the middle of a sleep regression is not for the weak, I’ll tell you.
Soon after I’m standing, the telltale sound of an incoming holodisplay call sounds from the house, and Clay’jin is deposited by Melion, madder than all hell. “Told you, mama!”
The mama is snarky because, naturally, he is my child.
I highly doubt his sister will be any more evenly tempered.
By the time I phase into the house, scooping my little boy into my arms, I find Sor’en halfway through cooking mine and Clay’jin’s favorite flamet.
A food I now know is exclusively prepared for small children, save for me, I suppose.
I don’t care. Good food is good food. I pepper him with kisses as he wiggles and squirms, his giggle filling the house as I sniffle at his little toes, pretending they are incredibly stinky.
He wiggles free, snuggling into the sunken living room before forgetting something and bolting for his room just as Sor’en answers the call from the kitchen.
I smile at the terribly disappointed-looking prince when he sees me. “Good evening to you too, Rav. Any more luck avoiding your princely duties?”
His scowl deepens. “Of course not.”
“You know it isn’t the worst idea, as much as agreeing with your mother makes me want to vomit.”
Turns out the King and Queen of Virellia are every bit as unpleasant as you would assume.
While our trade agreement and protection order are overseen directly by Ravian, even four orbits later, they are finding ways to make his life miserable for letting Sor’en go.
For destroying all evidence of his work for the dearly deceased Adder.
“Yes, yes, very good. Bring the child,” he offers, clearly not listening, making me glare at Sir Princely Asshole like it's some untold secret he does not call weekly to talk to me.
Sor’en laughs from the kitchen, so I glare at him too.
“Prince Ravian!” Clay’jin squeals as he launches himself into the piles of pillows.
I’m grateful for the medication the Kalzaits had spearheaded to help make a Xyrelith child less potent, until they are old enough to master themselves.
The stories of how most children here were raised within the temple, being subjected to intense stressors early on to harden them, had twisted my gut.
I’d refused outright, even realizing likely Clay’jin would kill me one day.
It’s a common occurrence for children to nearly constantly make their parents sick when they are too young to control their toxins.
Now, thankfully, with the new medication, the most I get is a minor headache and an upset stomach.
Freakishly, once, hives made my lips swell to twice their normal size.
My heart melts as the prince's face lights up, the hard lines of stress all but obliterated in the presence of his most devoted follower. “Hello, Prince Clay’jin. What have you brought me as an offering for my greatness?’
Clay giggles. “It's not yours! It my new toy!”
Sor’en heads over with his bowl of flamet. Grubby little outstretched fingers wiggling excitedly, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.
“Clay’jin, go wash up first.”
“Mama!” he protests.
I level him with a hard stare before he scrambles up and bolts toward the bathroom, slipping and crashing onto his hard skull halfway there.
Sor’en and I both freeze, waiting to see if he’ll cry or not.
He doesn’t, back on his feet and into the bedroom in the next moment.
When I look up again, it's to the most overdramatic, feigned, or possibly genuine look of offense from the prince displayed on the large screen. “You are a monster of undo callous, human. The likes of which I have yet to meet in my years. Starving an innocent—"
“Was the last shipment of Lyr’lumara favorable?” Sor’en interrupts as he lifts me into his arms.
Ravian sighs. “Yes, it was perfect as always.” He turns his attention back to me and impishly adds. “Your mate is a bore.” But I can see how worn down he looks, a tendril of worry filtering through my chest.
“Will you be joining us in a few weeks for the arrival of Lana’elle?”
That sobers him. “I will try my best, but it is unlikely. I am sorry.”
Sorry? From Ravian?
I cast Sor’en a worried look.
“Now begone, vile human. I have spent the last solar learning a new magic trick for the child.”
“Yayyyyy! Magic!” Cal’jin screams, bouncing again onto the pile and nearly upsetting his food.
Sor’en carries me to the kitchen stools, knowing that for the next zentic both of us will be dead to the child. Dodging my ranting about whatever is bothering Ravian as he sits me on his lap, smearing me with his fuzzy oil as he feeds me. Soon enough, I’m as boneless as water in his hold.
Many, many long zentics later, I am exhausted as I waddle myself onto our bed, my mate crawling in after me, having taken the latter half of the battle to get Clay’jin to sleep. As his mouth finds the calf of my leg, peppering soft, slow kisses there even in my exhausted state, I wake for him.
I groan, moving away and feigning disinterest, making him laugh.
He knows this game, we play it a lot.
Where I move is to simply get up higher on the pillows in a comfortable spot. I never stopped loving this, even after the weight of that necklace got lighter. When it stopped being a noose and turned into something that I enjoyed carrying.
“Look at how needy you are, Draya’la. You thought about my cock all day, didn’t you?”
I did. I really did.
I shake my head, lying with the bratty little smirk he loves so much.
His white eyes dance with amusement and need. “Lying little humans don’t get to come.”
Before I get the chance to react again, his slick hand glides up my sides, slicking me with something wonderful, mind-numbingly wonderful.
The aphrodisiac hits me in the next pump of my heart, making every inch of my flesh, every caress of the sheets, a beautiful torment.
His tongue snakes out as he works my breasts free from the bodice of my nightdress, taking one into his mouth and thankfully remembering to stifle my answering cry with his slick palm.
He keeps me like that, muffled and mindless as he rests his cock between my legs, right on my pulsing bundle of nerves.
“Tell me how much you thought of this, Hue.”
I shake my head, but we both know it won't last.
He can’t enter me like this, not with me being so far along, but what he does is no less awe-inspiring.
Sor’en slips his cock across my slick entrance, rubbing it in tune with my pulsing core.
My breasts heave under the lapping of his tongue before he swaps to the other side as my fingers knot in his silky white hair.
I come close, so close my body tenses, preparing me for my orgasm, my core gripping around nothing before he stops.
“Tell me,” he orders, nipping at my nipple.
Immediately, I cave. “I did, oh goddess, please. I did.”
“The goddesses are not going to help you now, little mate. You are here to worship me.”
My climax hits me quickly, and thankfully, tonight, he seems content to let me off the hook with no more than the following three.
I’m panting, sweat slicked and a bundle of vibrant nerves as he rocks against my painfully engorged clit with the head of his ridged, tapered cock and jerks back suddenly spurting speed across my reddened, weeping slit.
“Such a pretty mate. There you go, my poor soulveil,” he moans, making me nearly mad.
I whimper as he collapses behind me, halfway to tucking me into his arms, when a tiny cry finds its way from down the hall.
I groan as he laughs. “I’ve got it.”
“I love you,” I whisper, looking up at the brilliant white shimmering cloud above his head.
His lips meet mine before he rushes into the wasting room to clean himself up. “I love you too.”