Page 55 of Dragon Keeper

Tyr opened his eyes, flowing into him and holding on. “And our baby.”

“Our baby.” The words awed him. He had a feeling they always would.

Chapter

Seventeen

By the time the first snows came, Tyr found himself spending his days either soaking in the hot springs pool or in his kitchen, experimenting with different foods.

He and Sloan both laughed about it a lot, because after all, he was pregnant. He was supposed to be sick to his stomach. He was supposed to be queasy and grumpy and unhappy, and he just wasn’t.

He found himself tiring quickly, absolutely. But except for that?—

Tyr chuckled at himself as he stood there in the kitchen, moonlight pouring in on him, a bag of candies in his hand as he searched for something sour and wonderful.

Where were the pickles?

Surely they had pickles.

He knew they’d just opened a jar. He just needed to find out where Sloan had put them.

He knew for a fact that they’d traded for some, damn it.

Grumbling under his breath, he headed down the stairs, just to look at the cold storage. There were quite a few jars from Myk’s kitchen, actually.

But most of them were empty.

How on earth could he have gone through six jars of pickles already?

It wasn’t reasonable to think they’d gone through so many jars, they’d eaten so many pickles. He wasn’t that pregnant—his belly was still flat, he hadn’t felt a quickening.

Still, the pickles were the only thing that satisfied him and the weird ache deep in his belly.

“What are you doing?”

Sloan’s voice surprised him, and he jumped, his feet leaving the floor. One of the empty jars fell from the shelf, almost crashing to the ground. Thank goodness for Sloan’s quick reflexes, one of his mate’s hands flashing out to snatch it from the air.

“Oh, you startled me.”

Sloan tilted his head. “Obviously. Are you all right?”

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

That tilt went deeper. “You don’t seem fine.”

He stared at Sloan and then burst into tears. “I can’t stop eating pickles. I’m not pregnant enough to be needing pickles all the time, am I? I mean… what if I’m just eating pickles?”

Sloan gave him a long, silent stare, put the empty jar back up on the shelf, then pulled out another jar full of vinegary goodness. “You’re pregnant. You want pickles? Eat pickles. They’re good for you. No harm is going to come to you because you decided you craved pickles.”

Tyr sniffled. “We’re almost out.”

“We’ll trade for more.” Sloan just seemed so unconcerned.

“What if I’m not good at being a father? What if I’m a bad omega? Mate, what if I’m only supposed to have bees?”

“If all we ever have is bees I would be happy. But we’re having a baby. Our baby. And you’re tired. The baby might not be moving yet, or showing on your body from the outside, but they are pulling energy from deep within you. They are workingon growing using your magic. If pickles make that better, I will trade for every jar in the village and on the mountain.”

Tyr sniffled, letting Sloan take him in those strong arms as he clutched the jar of pickles. “I like Myk’s pickles best.”