42. Milo
Milo
Three weeks later
Warm fingers combed through my sweaty hair as Rowan looked down at me, us, with tears in his eyes.
Our pup was beautiful. A perfect little boy.
Born with his perfect fluffy little coat in the warmth of our nest. Rowan was behind me, a leg to either side of my body, cradling me as I cradled our son. Sweet baby Rory.
My grandmother and the colony’s healer had helped us with the birth.
I had to fight all my instincts to let them into our nest, but with Rowan behind me, his body so strong and protective, I’d been able to do it.
When everything was over, and our pup and I were both safe and healthy, they left our little family alone.
“He’s so beautiful.” Rowan sniffed, as he placed a kiss to my temple.
He really was. The most perfect little baby I’d ever seen. I got my wish. Our pup’s coat was an even mix between Rowan’s beautiful dark auburn coat and my own white and gray. He had a fluffy light orange coat that matched his hair, and bushy little eyebrows just like his daddy’s.
“Perfect little Rory,” I whispered, admiring his long eyelashes.
Rory really was the perfect name for him, because just as other selkies could feel that I was the next chosen by the goddess to lead us, I could feel the weight of her blessing over him as well. I would take over for my grandmother, and one day, Rory would take over from me. He would be king.
A half-selkie, half-human ruler. The goddess had already accepted him, already blessed him. I knew all the selkie would follow. I knew they would love him. How could they not?
Those tiny eyebrows furrowed, eyelids opening to reveal silver eyes as he looked up at me.
“Hi Rory,” I cooed.
He stared unhappily for a long moment, then his mouth opened wide and his chest filled with air and he screamed as he let it all out. Panic bubbled up inside me. Was I doing something wrong? Was he okay?
“It’s alright, love,” Rowan spoke low and calm in my ear. “He’s probably just hungry.”
I nodded, trying to stay calm as Rowan helped guide Rory to my chest.
He’d been right. Rory stopped crying so he could feed, and I tried very hard not to move too much or breathe too heavily and disturb him as he drank.
“Are you doing okay, love?” Rowan asked, placing a kiss to my temple.
I was tired, and I was hurting, but I nodded. Because everything was perfect. Because we had a healthy, beautiful baby. I’d never been happier.
Big silver eyes were almost buried beneath furrowed eyebrows as Rory took in my grandmother.
“He’s angry,” she said as she turned to me. The baby in her arms seemed to stare harder. “Why is he so angry?”
“He isn’t angry,” I rolled my eyes as I reached for him. “He just has his daddy’s face.”
She sighed before handing him over to me, wrapped securely in his coat and a blanket that prevented any accidents and unwanted mess. Rowan had tried to put something called a diaper on him, but like me, Rory hated clothes. “That’s unfortunate.”
I scowled at her. “He might not be angry, but I certainly will be if you talk badly about my mate.”
She waved a hand at me. “Oh, shush. He’s a very good mate, yes. But you can’t deny he looks like he might morph into a red-furred Naninuk at any moment.”
Rowan cleared his throat from the kitchen. “I can hear you.”
My grandmother didn’t seem to care.
I carried Rory over to our nest. I’d made a smaller nest in the middle, filled with Rowan’s and my scents. It was time for him to take a nap.
Rory didn’t like to be put down. Only the scent of his daddies and the dark blue pacifier in his mouth stopped him from crying as I picked up the seal toy and tucked it in with him.
Then I stroked down the short length of his tiny nose, each gentle touch making him close his eyes, and each blink getting longer before he opened them again.
Rowan’s sister was going to be here later today to meet us for the first time.
I was feeling uncharacteristically nervous about that, but he’d told me I had nothing to worry about, that she might be “huge, and loud, and give her opinions even when they aren’t wanted,” but it was only because she cared, and she had our best interests at heart and would accept me right away.
Still, I wanted his sister, and the rest of his family, to like me.
We hadn’t taken Rory to the colony yet. He wouldn’t be able to swim for a few weeks, and even then it would be in small amounts only, so we probably wouldn’t go back there for at least a couple of months.
I was in no rush, though. I still had a lot of tension anytime anyone came near our nest, Rory’s room, or Rory, so it was best not to have curious selkies hovering around us yet.
And I was just as comfortable here as I was there, because neither place was home.
No, home was currently in the kitchen, cooking something that smelled delicious as he looked even more so. My perfect mate.
It didn’t take long to get Rory to sleep, then I was joining Rowan in the kitchen, snuggling into his side.
“You should be resting, little hurricane,” he told me.
I smiled. I loved the way he fussed over me. He was so protective. “I’m perfectly capable of standing in the kitchen with you without tiring myself. I’m not that fragile. And am I still little hurricane? I’m not the smallest in our family anymore.”
“You’ll always be little hurricane. And Rory is tiny hurricane.” I huffed, and he continued. “I know you’re not fragile, my love, you’re very strong, but you still need to be resting.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, I might not be capable of walking aaaall the way back to our nest, then.”
“So dramatic,” he chuckled, but took the cooking food off the fire so he could scoop me up and carry me back over to our nest. I settled in next to Rory, and yawned, unfortunately proving Rowan’s point.
“Need anything?” he asked, a warm smile on his lips.
“You.”
“Anything else?”
“Mmmm, marshmallows.”
“And seaweed?”
I scrunched my nose up at him. “Gross.”