There's a tiny cry, and my milk lets down, making me bite my lip. I whirl as a stone section of the wall moves aside and creates a doorway. Khan steps through, holding a tiny blanketed bundle.
Our daughter.
My mate swiftly walks the length of the giant room, passing the canvases I’ve leaned against the towering walls.
“I stayed away as long as I could,” he says, apology in his tone. “But now she wants you.”
I scoot back so I can sit in my comfiest chair and unclasp the brooch at the top of my gown. The fabric falls away, baring my breasts. Ulfarri clothing is very comfortable and well designed, especially for lactating Omegas.
By the time Khan reaches me, I’m ready to nurse my daughter. I hold out my arms for her. He sets our little one in my arms, and something in me sighs. The last catch of tension in my shoulders melts away.
“There you are,” I murmur, loosening my baby’s midnight blue blanket so she can turn her head and find my nipple. Her tiny face scrunches up, then relaxes as the milk flows. Her little fist rests on the curve of my breast.
Our daughter’s skin is a very pale shade of lavender—like the section of sky closest to the brightest Ulfarri suns. Her hair is light blue. The color of Earth's sky. Earth and Ulfaria melded together—that's Emilia. The best of Khan and myself.
I shift her to my left breast and she whimpers. “Hush, little one,” I say. “All will be well.”
My mate hovers over both of us, his towering height casting a shadow over our faces. His guarded silence makes me feel safe. Khan rarely leaves my side, except to let me paint.
“Mommy was painting you,” I murmur to our daughter, then nod to Khan. “Take a look. I've done another portrait.”
He turns the canvas so we both can study it. The three of us are hovering on a skimmer above a silvery lake. Behind us, I painted the Altrim mountains rising in the distance, the regal expanse done in thick slashes of brown and green.Khan and I are smiling, and our clothing flutters in an invisible breeze.
“This is different than the last,” Khan says. His brow furrows, and he cocks his head to the side.
“Right.” I duck my head and hide a smile against Emilia’s head. Khan’s expanding his knowledge about art. The last few paintings I did were of us sitting in a garden. Those were light and airy, like a Mary Cassatt. The alien colors of my new world added a touch of whimsy.
“I like it.” He gives the canvas a nod, and returns to my side. “It has a sense of…”
“Grandeur.”
“Yes. Well done.” He catches my smirk, and touches my cheek. He takes time to study and murmur his approval of all my paintings, but once he got over that weird superstition Ulfarri have about animating living beings, he was obviously delighted when I began to paint him. It must be an Alpha thing. Their egos could power the suns.
Aurus had better never find out I paint portraits. He'd be begging for a life-sized one of himself. Or a giant one he can hang on a wall of his palace. I’d have to make it a hundred times his size before he’d be satisfied.
Not that we’ve heard much from Aurus lately. He’s too busy with his Omega.
My daughter’s mouth slackens on my breast. She pulls off with a sigh, and gives an adorable little burp.
“There now,” I murmur. “Did Daddy wear you out?” Emilia’s eyes flutter shut.
Khan takes her, and strolls back to our bedroom, patting the baby’s back. I follow him out of my studio, and into our cavernous chambers. Emilia is asleep before Khan reaches her crib.
“We have a few hours,” he says, swaddling her tight and laying her down. Her pale lilac face peeks out of the midnight blue blanket. Little baby burrito.
Khan turns, his broad shoulders blocking my view. The heat in his dark eyes halts my steps, sending a shot of arousal through my core. His scent surrounds me, and already I can feel the slick leaking down my inner thighs.
A few strides, and he’s scooped me up against his hard chest. “Are you tired?” he murmurs.
“No.” I wind my arms around his neck, ducking my head close to inhale his musk. His blue-black hair fans across my face. His scent is cinnamony today, deepening into the mouthwatering richness of his usual chocolate smell.
“Are you hungry?” Still carrying me, he leaves our daughter’s bedroom and heads to a table covered in food. “Thirsty?”
“No.” My voice is low and husky. I thread my fingers deeper in his dark hair so my nails can scratch lightly at his scalp.
Khan switches directions, heading toward our bedroom. Our nest. His growl starts to rumble through me and my body responds, my clit pulsing. I twist in his arms, angling my body so I'm pressed against him. My flowy gown bunches around my hips as he lets me straddle him. And then we're down on the bed. He's on top, of course, his weighted bulk covering me. Strong hands grasp my wrists, pinning them above my head.
“My Emma,” he purrs.“Mine.”
“Yours,” I breathe, just before his lips come crashing down over mine.
