"Absolutely."
Orpheus tilted his head whimsically. "I may be a servant to my raven side's urges sometimes, but you know, you do some silly things too."
"Oh? Like what?"
His gaze travelled down to my hips. "The way you hunt?"
I raised my eyebrow. "And what about it?"
Orpheus did an imitation of the so-called behaviour. "You always shake your ass for a good long time before you finally pounce."
I gasped, putting an offended hand to my chest. "You mock my pouncing? Keep in mind that ass-shaking behaviour is what kept you fed when you were sick in a den."
Orpheus smiled. "I know. Did I ever tell you how much I appreciated that?"
"I don't know, it seems like I might be forgetting…"
Without hesitation, Orpheus carefully slung down his bag onto the ground, then embraced me tightly. I giggled as he dipped me and kissed me hard. I felt silly whenever we got so lovey-dovey like this, but I was quickly learning not to care. Nobody was around except us and I'd be an idiot not to enjoy the moments I shared with him to their fullest.
As he held me, his hand travelled down my chest and landed on my belly. It looked the same as it ever did, and probably would for the next few weeks. I'd always admired the way that the pregnant omegas in the pack looked. They glowed like the sun—which I know sounds dumb, but I swear it's true—and everybody always doted on them. Back then, I told myself I would never be interested in that much attention, but I was warming up to the idea now. A little. Of course, that wasn't the case with Orpheus. I wanted his full attention and I had no doubt he will give it to me lavishly.
"Our little fox egg might be growing here already," he said.
"Donotcall it a fox egg."
"Raven cub?"
I stared at him blankly until he revised his statements.
He grinned at me. "Okay then. How about just baby?"
"Better." I kissed him as a reward.
Orpheus's peck on the lips—no pun intended—melted into a moment of passion. All my thoughts disappeared except for the feeling of his lips against mine.
At least, they did until I backed up and my foot accidentally nudged the bag of utensils. The noise startled me into yelping.
Orpheus gasped. "My spoons!"
He let go of me to tend to his precious spoons. Never in my life did I think I would be jealous of an eating utensil. I glared at the bag while he made sure each one was okay.
But my annoyance was cut off. I saw a flurry of movement from the corner of my eye. It was harder to tell exactly what it was here among the trees, but it was definitely a large, dark bird. My suspicion returned, a few shades stronger this time. I tried to think about it realistically. Of course a loud, unnatural sound would startle a bird. But was that really all it was?
I didn't let it go this time. I watched the bird’s flight trajectory, trying not to lose it among the thick canopy of leaves. It didn't take to the sky and fly away; instead, it nestled higher up in the forest on a branch somewhere. I didn't know if it was my imagination or if that being stared at feeling had returned.
My skin felt prickly. Once could've been a coincidence, but twice?
"Don't worry," Orpheus said with a resigned sigh. "They're all safe. You don't have to keep a lookout for them."
I didn't look back at him right away. I was still scanning the treetops.
Orpheus put his hand on my shoulder. "I don't know how to tell you this, Red, but spoons don't fly." When I turned to him and he saw the serious look on my face, he frowned. "What's wrong?"
I debated not telling him, but we were supposed to tell each other everything. If this was upsetting me, and it was, I should be able to tell him about it.
"I saw a raven in the trees," I said.
"Oh." Orpheus regarded my face, unsure of how to take this. "You sound upset."
