Page 29

“WELL,” SAID TAWNY’S mother, pouring chamomile tea into a mug as she settled at the kitchen table in her house, “I want you to know that you’re always welcome here, and that this is your home, whenever you need it, but I have to say, I’m a little relieved.” She handed her daughter the cup of tea.

Tawny accepted the mug, surprised. “You are?”

“I’m only saying, after your brother moved out, I turned that other bedroom into my craft room, and I was thinking of the hassle of that, and the baby crying all night, and…” Her mother poured herself some tea, too. “That sounds dreadfully selfish, doesn’t it, but really, I raised you to be independent, and I’ve always been proud of you. I always knew you were going to do things your own way. Now, we can put a little crib in the craft room and—of course—I’ll be a grandma all day while you’re at work, but then, we’ll have a little time not to be on top of each other constantly. It’s not traditional, but maybe tradition is overrated, in some ways.”

Tawny hadn’t thought her mother would say those words aloud, but she had to admit, she wasn’t entirely surprised. Her mother liked her independence, too, after all. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree and all of that.

“And tell me again about this stag of yours, waiting on you hand and foot and running all your errands?” Her mother smirked at her from over the lip of the mug of tea.

Tawny couldn’t help but smile. “He’s not moving in with me either, but we live close, only three blocks away, and we spend most nights together anyway, so it shouldn’t be difficult for us to be together once the baby is born.”

“Well, good,” said her mother. “It’s backwards, maybe, keeping fathers from their children. You know how your uncle used to go to watch all of those recitals for that little fawn of Gemma’s, of course. I know he was convinced she was his, even though Gemma would never say one way or the other. It sort of broke my heart, really, watching him want to be involved and never being allowed because of Gemma refusing to let him in.”

“Uncle Fraser was always a good uncle,” said Tawny.

“He was close to you kids, of course,” said her mother. “But it isn’t the same, and I don’t think we always acknowledge that. You do this, then. You let that Athos dote on the both of you. We should all have dinner or something.”

“Okay,” said Tawny, surprised at that. She hadn’t expected her mother to be so welcoming. “I think that sounds nice.”

“You like him, then?” said her mother.

“I do,” said Tawny, nodding. “Well, he likes me, anyway, and I like him for that. I’m a lot to take.”

“You are exactly the right amount,” said her mother, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “You are my beautiful, brave girl, and you’re going to be the best mother in the whole world.”

Tawny flushed under the praise. Her mother didn’t dole it out often, but when she did, there was a sincerity to it that buoyed her up.

“Now, where are those sonogram pictures? You promised me pictures of my grandfawn!”

“Right,” said Tawny, fumbling to find her purse. “There’s not much to see yet. Just a little blob.”

“An adorable blob, though!” exclaimed her mother. “The most adorable blob I’ve ever seen, I’m sure. I’d expect nothing less of my grandbabies.”

IT WAS COLD outside. Eiren could see her breath and there was frost on the leaves that crunched beneath her feet as she hurried through the woods, running and leaping over fallen logs, glancing over her shoulder now and again to see if Lyall was behind her.

He always was, and she knew he was just toying with her at this point. He could have caught her already, but he was following at a distance, stretching this out.

He wouldn’t catch here out here, in the cold and frost.

They would run, and he would stare hungrily at her little white bobbing tail in the dusk, and she would lead him on a circular route through the woods around his house, and then, she would head back towards his house, and he would close in on her, and then, just when she was getting close to the porch, then he would catch her.

They had done this before.

Maybe they did this too often.

It was good exercise, though. If she needed a way to get a workout in, this was a fun way to do it.

This time, when he caught her, he picked her up and threw her over her shoulder as she squealed.

He secured her, one hand firmly around her tail, and carried her into his house, careening through his living room and back to his bed, where he tossed her down onto her back, and she bounced, squealing again.

He loomed over her there.

It was growing dark outside, so there was only a bit of light coming in through the windows, and he was all hulking angles and just a hint of sharp teeth as he gazed down at her.

“Try to get away,” he ordered in a gruff voice.

And she squealed again, laughing, rolling over and trying to crawl across the bed, until he caught her and stopped her, and tugged on her tail again.

She panted, excited, knowing that he’d hold her down and peel away only enough of her clothing to get at the parts he wanted to get at. Knowing that he’d find her wet and ready and he’d rub her in all the best places, work his thick hardness all the way deep into her sleek core, fuck her into his bed with energetic abandon. Knowing this, waiting for this, ready for this.

“Are you going to let me go?” she gasped.

“Never,” he growled.

IN THE SPRING , Rora finally declared her major—and yes, she was going to get a degree in education and be a teacher, she’d decided—and she went in with three other does in her class on a little apartment in Alberdeen, which was more of a hullabaloo than her having a boyfriend, moving out of the family house!

Stockton spent so many nights there that he practically lived there, too.

He was accepted to the law school in their university, and they talked about getting a place together in the fall, just the two of them, even though they wouldn’t have been together a whole year by then.

They talked, and they looked at listings online, and they schemed and they planned.

She liked looking at him when he talked about their future together. She liked to believe it was true, that they were mates, that this was a lifetime commitment, that they’d found each other and they’d never be separated. He seemed to like it, too.

So, it would probably happen, she thought.

All of it.

She’d get a happily ever after, just like a book.

Everything she’d ever wanted.

TAWNY WAS YAWNING in bed, drowsy and warm in a nest of pillows that Athos had arranged for her according to her instructions. Even when she was demanding with him, telling him that she needed another pillow or that the one that was between her thighs wasn’t enough, he seemed to enjoy seeing to her comfort.

But this was possibly because he was a little enamored of her pregnant belly, and after he fetched another pillow or fluffed one or tucked one behind her neck, he would always run a reverent hand over the swell of it, stopping to plant little kisses against it, and telling her she looked like a goddess of fecund femininity.

If she didn’t shut him up, he’d go on a long diatribe about how there must be something programmed into mammals to revere pregnant women, how the look of her with that swollen belly always took his breath away, and how it must be so that he would—yes, sacrifice himself nobly for her safety and the safety of their unborn fawn.

“Don’t die, you idiot,” she would say. “Fix my pillows.”

And he would say, “I will get your pillows right or die trying.”

That evening, he was fondling her belly as usual, and straying too far towards the bottom part of her belly, straying towards teasing her between her legs, which she didn’t mind, not exactly, but she was going to tell him that if he wanted to do that, he was going to have to finish himself off because she could not move out of the pillow nest, not even for sex.

But instead, he brushed the underside of his knuckles around the swell of her and said, “What do you think about marrying me?”

And she was too stunned to breathe for a moment. Then she said, “Deerkin don’t get married!”

“Beg to differ,” he said. “You and me? Last I checked, we’re both deerkin, and we’ve both been married.”

She laughed, tilting her head back into the pillows.

“We don’t have to move in together,” he said.

“No, we should,” she moaned, shutting her eyes. “I was being stupid about it before. I already need you so much and once the baby is born, I’m going to need you so much more, and it would just be easier if we lived in the same house. We could get something in the suburbs, something close to the city for our jobs, but a little closer to both of our mothers’ houses. It only makes sense.”

“Oh, you’ve been thinking about this?” He was gently amused.

“I’m not saying yes, not right now, because that was a very bad marriage proposal. I thought your swan would have at least clued you in on how to woo a woman properly.”

“That wasn’t the proposal,” he said, hand spanning her belly. “That was me feeling you out, that’s all.”

“So, you’re going to propose some other way, then?”

“Definitely,” he said. “With a ring and on one knee, maybe in a public place, so everyone can see me on my knees in front of my perfectly pregnant goddess of a woman. I could have just done it, and I might have even liked it if you refused me in front of everyone, that might have been kind of hot, but I also thought, maybe not.”

“Not in public,” she said.

“Right,” he said. “Not in public. Got it.”

“Not in food,” she said. “I am not cracking my tooth on a diamond.”

He snickered. “You want to type me up some notes?”

“No, that’s cheating! I’m not doing the proposal for you.”

“But you’ll say yes?”

She smiled, sighing into the pillow. “I love you, you know that, Athos Rockne?”

“I love you, too,” he said. “Not in food, not in public. What do you think about sky-writing?”

She snorted.

“Can I lick your pussy now?”

She laughed a full-belly laugh, which made the tiny fawn in her dance, kicking out its small limbs against her skin.

He let out a sharp breath, moving his hands over the baby’s movement. “Wow,” he whispered. “Hi there, little one.” He kissed her belly again.

She giggled. “I’m very sleepy, Athos. And baby kicks are a mood killer.”

“You kidding? You are pregnant with my fawn. I knocked you up. Do you have any idea how hard that is making me?”

“You’re going to have to finish yourself off,” she said with a little moan. “And I cannot move. I have to stay right here. So, you have to figure out how to get in there without disturbing the pillows.”

“Challenge accepted,” he said in a low, resonant voice.

* * *