Page 26 of Impaled by His Omega Prince (Reluctant Fae Princes #2)
Askara
Piles of flashpine carved with thalmic skill lay neatly to the side of a dilapidated estate that was rumored to have once been a temple and home for clergy. It had been a cannery at one point, grain storage, and many other things, leaving a rather strong foundation, but little else of the charm it would have once held.
Askara placed his hand on the cornerstone of the building and channeled his thalms through the structure, searching for faults. So much had been instinctual, and Virion had helped him a great deal before heading back to Drashil with his mate and child. Something strange resonated west, the surge of his power echoing back with a twisted ring to it. “The west wing’s second floor has rotted joists.”
Stonemasons climbed the inner structures and carpenters by trade in peace times and warriors in war, found themselves happily bringing the temple back to some semblance of glory. Many wanted to bring the temple to specifications first, but Askara knew his mother’s desire to preserve the fairer sex was far more than her own vanity. With any luck, just after harvest, they’d be able to bring the first omegas and children in. Not that some weren’t already on the way. Alluin had been dutiful in his promise, if not too enthusiastic to have the poor males evacuated.
Unsure of what else to do, Askara rummaged around for the building plans and took a blacksteel saw, comparing the specifications of timber needed with the raw beams they’d milled and brought in. He wasn’t very skilled, but he was strong and could use his thalms to push. Each beam needed to be a certain length and then notched. While Askara was confident in his ability to enchant a saw and cut through the tough wood, he wasn’t sure his skill at cutting the mortise and tenon joints, nor the half-lap until a carpenter could assure him the dimensions and how to keep a consistent measure without the rope length they’d given him.
As flying was a skill needed to see to certain exterior features of the building, most of the males worked shirtless, strong backs bearing avian wings flitting from one parapet or truss to the next. The original construction was made of flashpine, as had been Croatens tradition, but the wood had worn in places and had a woolworm infestation at one point. Thankfully, the critters had been a victim of a plague year and died before too much could be done. The existing beams that had survived untouched were coated in flashpine sap they’d carefully steamed from the sawdust remnants of their efforts. Without decades of age, the sap was toxic to anything that tried to subsist off it.
Askara picked up a single beam and hoisted it across two sawhorses that had been painstakingly leveled to the work area and left with a length of rope for him to measure. He picked up the saw he kept around, measured the beam, squared the edge, and lined up the blade. With thalmic energy like Askara possessed, it was a bit explosive and lacking in finesse. The things he could do were heavy-handed, so when the saw creaked with the power running through it, he thrust the blade and drew it, creating his divot. Sparks flew as sawdust rained down; the motes of dust lit like fire rained down unmarred until the unnecessary chunk of beam fell to the floor.
One of the artisans would be by later to collect the endpieces. Sufficiently steamed and kilned a certain way, the wood could be hand carved and made delightful little toys.
Kershai flew down from the roof, his pale flesh glistening with sweat as he stretched and yawned. “Haven’t worked this hard in many years. The only reason I keep up with swordplay is to make sure Pallosar has something pleasant to look at. I dare to think I’ll be spoiling him now.”
Askara had been fighting hard for years and had the lean muscle earned from it, but he had to admit, what had happened to his arms, Lumic enjoyed. Though, it wasn’t quite polite to say so to his father-in-law. “This strains different muscles than I am accustomed to.”
Kershai inspected the growing pile of endpieces and the even larger pile of finished beams, grinning wide. “Keep up at this and they’ll have you cutting joints soon.”
Askara nervously chuckled and bent low to gather the pieces, moving them to a basket for the artisan.
As if on cue, a carriage creaked in the distance, and Askara climbed atop one of the strapped piles of wood to gaze out at the path that wound toward the soon-to-be sanctuary. Askara waved, and the artisan, with his finely painted carriage and old mule, came trundling up, his face a stretched and beaming smile from a dusk face and silvery-gray hair, a little frizzy from age and lack of care.
“Oh, he looks happy, today.” Kershai laughed a little and clapped Askara on the shoulder.
“He does, doesn’t he?” Askara climbed down and hoisted another beam onto the sawhorses after tipping the latest beam onto the finished pile. He had time to cut it and move it in the time it took the artisan to approach. “Hello there, Kimba!”
The beta’s carriage came to a clattering stop, and Askara turned just in time to see Lumic sliding from the back of the carriage, a rakish grin plastered across his face. He’d been mostly banned from the worksite as it was a dangerous place for him, considering his condition…and the fact that all the far more sculpted alphas working the stone were shirtless and made Askara a little ashamed of his Liaberian build. Lumic only had eyes for him, though, and approached with a little swagger in his step…or a limp. Askara couldn’t be sure. With his growing belly and myriad of twinges and pains, either was equally likely.
“Lumic! You’re not supposed to be up here.” Askara didn’t quite rush to Lumic, but he did put an extra stride in his step before embracing his mate. “It’s not safe.”
“I don’t plan to get near the construction, worry worm.” Lumic laughed, and Askara gave him a hum of displeasure.
“I don’t like how the other alphas look at you.” Askara drew Lumic in for a chaste kiss and tamped down his desire for his scarlet-haired mate. All that work gave him an appetite of several varieties.
“I’m as big as a grassboar. None of them are interested in me, Askara.” Lumic patted his belly, which wasn’t quite as big as he’d touted. He still had two more moon cycles to go before the babe arrived.
Askara peered over Lumic’s shoulder and glanced down at his bottom. He’d definitely filled out his breeches nicely in the past few months. Plush, warm, squeezable. Askara was too polite to grab them in public or around witnesses, but he had no qualms with staring. “You have every alpha’s attention everywhere you go, Lumic. The least of which is mine.”
Despite Askara’s conviction, Lumic dismissed the notion. A quick glance up to the roof affirmed Askara’s suspicions, envious glances diverting at his glare. Perhaps, though, they didn’t envy Askara’s mate as much as they did his life. Princes had privilege, and they were blessed with a child to come, goddess willing. Either way, Lumic was his mate, and he would covet him dearly. A soft growl caught in his throat and Lumic snorted with laughter.
“I like when you get possessive and territorial. I think you actually believe that I’m that attractive.” Lumic sighed with delight and pulled away, turning to rest his hands on his hips.
The front of his tunic hung loose and low, the fabric much softer than he normally wore, as his skin grew unbearably sensitive. Askara drew his hand over Lumic’s hip, over his belly, and back again in a discreet gesture. “You are.”
“I’m a stocky, overgrown bulked-out omega bull, and now I’m a cow, too.” He patted his belly. His belly moved in retaliation, as if their little one resented his home being drummed upon.
“You’re strong. You’re solid. You’re fun.” Askara rested a hand on his shoulder and flinched as Lumic elbowed him in the gut, stealing his breath for a soft oof . Winded, Askara withdrew his hand and chuckled. “Strong enough to do that. You can hold me down, have your way. Both our ways.”
Askara’s whisper made Lumic glance over his shoulder with a raised brow. That scarlet feature of his so beautiful, such a unique feature. He was like a treasure, the fire of the sun in his very nature. Askara swallowed, his throat dry. He dropped his saw. “I’m calling it quits for the day.”
“Hmm?” Lumic glanced Askara up and down. “May want to see what Kimba brought with him and help him load the scraps.”
Askara glanced over at Kimba and Kershai, who had their heads very pointedly turned, as if ignoring their private moment.
“Apologies. I adore seeing him,” Askara said, laughing as his cheeks burned.
“And he enjoys you, too. Far too unfair. Your father and I couldn’t keep apart for the longest time after we mated.” Kershai grinned, giving Lumic a knowing look that had everything to do with how Lumic’s personality matched so closely to his omega father’s.
Askara patted Lumic’s back and gave Kimba a nod, ready to see what gift it was that the male brought.
From the confines of the cart, he drew forward a flower oak cask, finely inlaid with gold filigree, a toy chest fit for a prince. Askara grinned wide, reaching out to open the chest. Inside was a smattering of toys, little rings carved into one another, painted vivid colors to clatter about when shaken. Bright little shapes set with handholds and carved from a soapwood that would be safe to teethe upon, littered the bottom. Everything a little one would enjoy for the first year of life stacked high, and Askara brightened. It made him recall the few odds and ends his beta patrons had saved of his. A stuffed marshrabbit, one ear torn and chewed, a brightly colored horse carved from wheedle wood, and a toy boat that when a chamber was filled with water and a candle lit beneath, it puttered about the bath tooting little steam puffs. He wondered if he could bring those back for his little one.
“They’re beautiful.” Askara beamed.
“And Nemiah said that Virion was helping him make a little tinker thalmway engine. The tailor’s already sourcing fur to make him some stuffed animals.” Lumic rubbed his hand over the top of his belly and smiled.
“He’s making a marshrabbit, right?” Askara beamed. Passing on his own marshrabbit wouldn’t be as fulfilling, as he’d already tortured and torn the poor creature apart.
“Of course. I believe he was waiting for the right glass beads for the eyes.” Lumic put his hands on his hips, staring at Askara as if the entire world revolved around him. He didn’t like it. Askara wanted to be the one revolving around Lumic, worshiping him. Not the other way around. Lumic was his whole world.
“Whatever he decides will be perfect, I’m certain.” Askara gave Lumic a hug and helped Kimba load the back of the cart. He made sure to leave room for Lumic. He tired easily, but Askara would be happy to fly ahead and wash up to make himself ready for Lumic.
“I see that look, alpha.” Lumic dropped his voice low and leaned in, his breath a whisper over Askara’s ear. “Stay away from the baths. I like how you smell right now and I will have you between my thighs at least twice before dinner tonight.”
Askara swallowed hard, the burning in his cheeks intense before he nodded slowly. “I may need a moment before I fly.”
Lumic swatted his ass. “Quite the cockstand you have going on, dear.”
“Lumic, come on. Please, son. I’m right here.” Kershai sighed raggedly.
“And you don’t have to drop eaves!” Lumic waved off and sidled into the back of the cart while Kimbal readied his mule. The solid-black beast turned red eyes to his master almost balefully but delighted at a nibble of dried fruit from his palm before adjusting his hooves.
“I do love him, you know.” Askara shot Kershai a grin.
“I know you’d die for him, and that’s enough.”