Page 60

“Really?”

“Really.” I hoist myself off the wall, swagger across the living room, stall inches behind Juniper, and speak to her reflection. “I have a confession to make.”

With dry humor, Juniper adjusts her spectacles. “This should be epic.”

I band my arms around her middle and thread my digits with hers, so that both our hands cover her womb. Leaning down, I murmur in her rounded ear, “You’re giving me impure thoughts.”

The molten words have the best effect, causing a ripple down her nape. Juniper curls into me, her head lolling as my lips trace the shell of her ear. Then something snaps her out of it, and she whips her head upright. “Antlers.”

It takes me a bit to catch up. “Come again?”

“Will the baby have antlers?” A drop of panic leaks into her face. “What if I can’t carry—”

“Shhh, luv,” I assure Juniper with a kiss to her temple. “Satyrs and fauns grow them after being born. And it takes a while.”

“How do you know for sure? You came from a seed, not a womb.”

“Because all Faeries with horns grow them after they’re born.” I tighten my hold on her. “Go on. What’s next?”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“Tell me what else is on the list of questions and to-do’s you wrote after leaving our bed cold.”

Juniper bunches her lips to hide a grin, but she doesn’t deny it. Her toes rub against my cloven hooves, as if seeking warmth. “For a start, we still haven’t determined when it happened.”

“But you have a theory,” I deduct. “Me, too.”

We gaze at each other through the glass, gauging one another’s thoughts and whether our hunch is the same. Outside, fog glazes the oaks. Leaves drip from the branches, moss embroiders the trunks, and somewhere nearby the Herd are grazing with Sylvan.

Juniper exhales. “The Seeds that Give.”

I nod. “Pretty much.”

That’s when it must have happened. That’s where woodland Faeries are born, so it stands to reason that’s also where they have the slightest chance of conceiving. Of course, that’s assuming one’s partner is a human who can undo that impossibility.

It had only taken one time. During the Middle Moon Feast, I hadn’t been able to stand it anymore, wanting this mortal and not being able to have her. Until that night, my cock had been nearing critical mass, my balls suffering from a drastic case of sexual purgatory. But once the bonfire really got started, both of us had shred ourselves bare and gone rogue.

The next query takes shape across Juniper’s pinched face. “I’m still bleeding. Not now, but I have been. How’s that possible? More than anything, that would have made my condition obvious earlier.”

“Ah, that.” I shrug. “Faeries being immortal means things take longer. With the rare Solitary who carries an infant, the signs don’t show up that quickly, apart from queasiness. Since you have half of my immortality, and the baby’s half-Fae…” I drift off, letting the rest speak for itself. “Don’t expect your monthlies to end for a while, much less for the baby to grow as fast as it does for humans.”

“Sooooo,” Juniper draws out, “how long does a Fae pregnancy last?”

“Years.”

“What?!”

“Technically three.” When her eyes bulge, I bark out a laugh and crush her to me. “Don’t worry. You won’t show until it’s closer to the end. With Faeries, everything happens at a slow pace, then all at once.”

“But if you’re saying queasiness is the exception, does that mean I’ll be nauseous the whole time?”

“Nah. Just in the beginning, during the first few months. Since it’s been about that much time already, it should pass soon. After that, you won’t feel anything but a jolt here and there from our kid. And you know what all of this means? We’ll still have the next few years to ourselves, plenty of mornings, afternoons, and nights to fuck like maniacs and soak up our alone time. Sounds like a plan, don’t you think?”

“How do you know all this?” she asks, nonplussed.

I rub her arms up and down. “Don’t be pretentious. I grew up in the sex capital of the Solitary wild, I was its most popular resident, and in a thousand-plus years of banging more Faeries than I can count, Ihavelearned a thing or two about the outcome of coitus. Even if it’s impossible for woodland Faeries, it still happens for mountain and river ones.”

“Fables, I’m sorry.” Juniper’s brows tip inward. “That was unfair of me.”