The Beast

Alas, he ran into no other servants and no one else as he went to the rear of the house and reconnected with the staff stairs that he had previously ascended. Taking them back down to the basement, he stopped in front of the padlocked door.

Now that he was less rushed, he discovered a scent lingering in the air. It was one that he could not immediately place, but he did not tarry to suss it out.

Continuing on, he proceeded to the mistress’s dungeon and sneaked back in. Things had progressed with admirable efficiency, his cousins swarmed over the female’s naked flesh, blood marking skin and mattress alike, their cocks and her sex slick with orgasms. That Hermès tie was still in place over her eyes, however.

Such well-performing cousins he had—

The door opened wide mere moments after his return, and Assail looked over his shoulder.

“Well, well, well,” he said with a smile, “madam’s favorite houseguest returns.”

Throe was none too pleased, going by the tight brows and tension in his body. “I was not aware you were coming.”

“The cellular phone is an incredible device. It allows one to call others and to receive calls from others, resulting in meetings taking place.”

The mistress of the house moaned and arched as Ehric traded places between her legs with his brother.

Throe’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

Assail indicated the sex that was ongoing. “This is not enough of a rationale? And if you are so concerned about my presence, do speak with your madam. This is her show, is it not?”

“Not for much longer,” the male said under his breath.

“Busy with plans. Such a surprise.”

“Watch and learn.” Throe’s eyes glinted with malice. “This household is about to be transformed.”

“Do tell.”

“Enjoy her while you can.”

Throe departed, closing the door behind himself with no sound at all. Thanks to Assail’s ministrations.

As Assail turned his attention back to the bedding platform . . . he had the distinct impression a funeral was coming. The question was whether it was the master’s or the mistress’s first.

FORTY-SIX

Layla sat up on her elbows as Doc Jane began wiping off the clear lubricant from her big belly. This previously scheduled exam had turned out to be well-timed—even though she’d just had one, the double-check was reassuring.

“Yup, everything’s fine.” The physician smiled as she helped bring the pink robe’s two halves back in place. “You’re doing really well.”

“Just a little longer. And then I can relax some, right?”

“You betcha. Soon enough, those two sets of lungs will be at a point where we can handle them better.” Doc Jane looked across the exam room. “Any questions from the dads?”

From over in the corner, Qhuinn shook his head as he twitched in the chair and rubbed his mismatched eyes. Beside him, Blay massaged the male’s shoulder.

“We were wondering about the feedings,” Blay said. “Is Layla getting enough from us?”

“Her levels have been looking great. What you all are doing is working just fine.”

“What about the delivery?” Blay asked. “How do we know if . . . I guess we don’t know if it’ll be okay, do we.”

Doc Jane sat back on her rolling stool and crossed one knee over the other. “I’d like to tell you that we can predict anything about what will happen, but I can’t. I will say that Manny and I are all set, Havers will be on standby, and Ehlena has assisted at over a hundred deliveries. We are ready to help nature take its course—and when they’re out, I have two incubators here, as well as breathing assistance equipment that’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I understand, and I’m glad, that you all are open to anyone lending a vein if it comes to that. And the good news is that the babies are tracking perfectly at this moment in time. We’re prepared, and that’s the best position we can be in. Bear in mind, though, that there could be months and months left to go. The two-week mark from now is just the bare minimum for survival. I’m hoping they stay where they are for another six months, at least.”

Layla looked down at her belly and wondered how much more space she had to give. She already felt as though her lungs were crammed up under her collarbones and her bladder was somewhere south of her knees. Whatever it took, though. Whatever the young needed.

As Qhuinn and Blay got to their feet, there was some lighthearted conversation, something about Rhage and Mary flooding their bathroom, and then there were hugs good-bye as the males left.

Doc Jane sat back down on her stool. “Okay, so what do you want to ask me?”

“I’m sorry?” Layla pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “About?”

“You’ve been my patient for how long now? I can read you—which Qhuinn and Blay probably could, too, if they weren’t so worried about you and the babies.”

Layla fiddled with the fluffy lapel of her robe. “It’s nothing about the pregnancy. I feel better about everything there.”

“So . . .”

“Well, ah, Luchas and I were wondering.” Layla smiled in what she hoped was a nonchalant way. “You know, he and I don’t have a lot to talk about down here. Other than how big I’m getting and how hard PT is for him.”

Doc Jane nodded. “You two are both working really hard.”