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“You know, you’re thinking the same thing.”

“I am. And eventually, I’ll panic like you’re doing now. But I’d much rather spend this little one’s first hour with us by being happy. This is their first introduction to you and me.”

Juniper startles, her features shifting in comprehension. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

As I pull back and stroke her cheeks with my thumbs, I hear my own gritty timbre, heavy with hope. “Are you saying, you want this?”

“Fables, I’m so young,” she rattles off. “And you’re my age multiplied by a factor of ten. We haven’t been together long. We’ve barely lived in the same home long enough to establish who gets which side of the bed.”

“That’s my fault. I keep rolling you across the mattress.”

“Neither of us knows the first thing about being parents.”

“We can learn,” I murmur. “I think we’re mighty good at that.”

“This is the worst timing. We’re not prepared.”

“We weren’t prepared for lots of things, but we kicked fate’s ass anyway. And you know how I feel about needing to know everything in the first place. It’s overrated. I can remember several episodes during the game when we locked horns about this. The eagerness to be right all the time gets in the way of discovery.”

“I know, but we can’t be clueless, either. This is something I just…don’t know how to do in the slightest.”

I lean in and swipe my lips over hers. “Like you said, neither do I.”

Her breath hitches, then releases. “Not yet.”

“So again: You want this? Because if not, there are ways to undo it, herbs that Cypress has mentioned working on the mountain and river Faeries, on the occasions over the centuries when they didn’t want offspring.”

“But you’ve been wishing for this your whole life.”

“I got what I’ve always wanted, luv. I got you.” When her eyes mist, I husk against her mouth. “I want you happy. That’s my wish. So if you’re not ready, or you don’t want to, just say the word—”

“I do.” She nods. “I want this.”

My words falter. “With…me?”

“Yes.” Juniper inches away, her pupils glimmering with fascination, like she’s uncovered a new Fable. “Puck. Right after I came here, I felt another jolt. And I’ve been feeling more of them ever since.”

I launch back. “This whole fucking time?”

“On and off. Nine times. I counted.”

Naturally. But whatever quip I’d been about to make leaks from my tongue her hands claim mine and draw my palms down. Juniper settles them on her stomach, my broad digits spanning her form.

Nothing happens. Yet I swear to Fables, I might pass out from waiting.

Then after a minute, a tiny sort of pressure bumps against my flesh, like a seed while it’s growing. I’ve known plenty of trees before they sprouted roots and rose into their prime. But it’s nothing compared to this.

That bump is us. That’s the sound of us.

I glance at Juniper. My eyes must be wide as hell, because a laugh pops out of her mouth.

“It was like the moment I realized I love you,” she reminisces. “In the rain, caring for you that much, wanting you forever, all came unexpectedly. And when I fled to this spot, I felt something shift inside me, and again, the feelings just happened.” Another chuckle leaves her mouth, this one strong and solid as she twines her arms around my neck. “I’m scared, but I want this. I want us.”

Several pleasurable things follow. My heart explodes, my mouth lifts into a roguish smile, and I exhale. “Well, I’ll be fucked,” I say, then grab her face and crash my lips to hers.

14

Juniper moans, the flex of my mouth pulling that savory noise from deep in her throat. The sound is made of smoke, the noise shooting to my ears like a rush of adrenaline, penetrating and addictive. Even better, the texture of that moan oozes down my tongue, her pleasure melting into me.