“Do her bath, lad,” I say, not unkindly. He is standing, and that is more than I can do presently.
“I want Caden!” I hear Priya call from the bathroom.
Caden also staggers from the bed, and with more enthusiasm than Brook, for the little Omega has summoned him.
“Gods, I’m ravenous,” Brook says, snagging something that is three days stale from under the cloth and shoving it into his mouth on the way. “Can I have a look at her pussy?”
Bath, now!
Brook darts through the door to the bathing room. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Caden says, following after him. Although I don’t know why Caden is faking affront. The pair of them are obsessed with the openness of her pussy after vigorous rutting. I cannot imagine the state it’s in at present after Raglan set about rearranging her innards.
I have words with my cock, which seeks to rise despite being raw. Putting aside debauch images of Priya coming all over Raglan’s tree trunk, I heave myself out of bed.
In the back of my mind is a humming awareness. I stand still and close my eyes. I can sense more than Raglan’s commands, I can also sense all four of us Alphas and Priya.
I chuckle. That will come in handy if the lass gets up to mischief again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Priya
“OH! SHE IS so beautiful,” I say. The foal is bandy-legged and adorable with a tail that’s little more than a tuft of hair. She is a week old and was born the day I went into heat.
Today is the first day I’ve been outside for a little fresh air. I admit to feeling embarrassed by our arrival at this beautiful home and my subsequent heat taking me before I was introduced to our hosts.
“Isn’t she?” Rosalind agrees, smiling.
The young Duchess is a sweet Omega who blushes prettily whenever her stern mate is near. We made friends straight away. I know for certain Belle would love her. We have talked of Rosalind and Aremis visiting us next year when we have both had our child. My hand strays to my tummy where there is not yet even the slightest bump.
My scent has changed with pregnancy. My heart swells whenever I think about it. I’m scared and humbled and near dizzy with excitement at the prospect of meeting him or her.
We both laugh as the little foal performs a skip as she nears a rogue tuft of grass. The little filly is a stunning chestnut color with a snow white crescent on her forehead. I can’t remember seeing such a pretty foal.
Although it’s still early winter, the seasons change sooner in this region, and a light dusting of snow has fallen, making the little foal frisky with excitement. Her mother watches the youngster’s antics in a way I’m sure is universal to mothers of every kind: a little pride, a little fear, and a lot of joy.
“She will make a good riding horse,” Rosalind says. “Aremis believes she will be ready for weaning and travel by the time you are due to leave.”
My eyes dart to hers, and I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat.
“Do you want her, Priya?” she asks earnestly. “I heard about Posey, and I was so sorry about that. Would you take Crescent as a gift?” She smiles gently, eyes sensitive. “It would make me very happy if you did.”
I turn back to the bandy-legged filly. Crescent. She was born the day of my heat. Perhaps the day or within days of the time I conceived. By the time she is ready for riding, the babe I carry will be toddling around.
They will grow together.
“Yes,” I say. And I’m crying and laughing without any idea why. Rosalind hugs me, and I laugh and cry harder.
“There,” she says. “It was not supposed to upset you. Now I will be forced to feed you the honey cake your mates insisted upon until you feel better again.” Slipping her arm through mine, we walk the short distance back to the house together.
How strange life is, I reflect as we walk up the gentle slope. How badly I wanted adventure when I was a young girl, and how hard done by I felt at the prospect of marriage and a child. And how wildly my perspective has changed.
The men are gathered at the top of the slope. All pretending they are doing something other than watching their mates lest some unknown terror befalls us during the short walk.
“Perhaps we should have tea and cake alone,” Rosalind says, voice taking on that frosty edge that is not very stern but gives an indication that she’s thinking of mischief. Her voice lowers to a conspiring whisper. “You have four mates,” she says. “I cannot help but think you have advice that would assist me with my one.”
We are both laughing again as we reach the top of the rise, where five stern gazes turn our way.
EPILOGUE
Priya
WE LEAVE THE northernmost duchy of Hydornia, waving farewell to Rosalind and Aremis in the spring, with promises to keep in touch by letter until they visit later in the year. From here, we take a ship to Darkmouth. Crescent has grown into a stunning filly, and I’ve spent plenty of time getting to know her over the winter months. She has traveled ahead of us with a handler and will be well settled in by the time we arrive.
It is a far more relaxing sail across the Lumen Sea. I have loved our time in Hydornia. A little respite during which we have healed and bonded. But as I see the port of Darkmouth on the horizon, I feel a sense of home. We left under a cloud of terror. Hawthorn separated, Raglan in chains, and Caden and Brook badly
