Des had to laugh at that, bending to take a kiss. He carried Starry to their bedroom, placing him gently on the bed. “Let me go get us some snacks and drinks, hmm?”
“And check in with your guards,” Starry said with a knowing smirk.
“That too. Be right back.”
“Hurry.”
“I will.” He wanted a shower, actually. With Starry. Maybe they needed to move out to the country house for the rest of the pregnancy. The city air was so filthy.
But he did check in with the guards, and then helped to lock up for the evening. The cook made him up a tray of all of Starry’s favorite foods, and he headed back upstairs to have a nosh and a lazy night with his mate.
Starry gave him a soft smile when he came back into the room, and Des knew then and there that he would never push his mate away again.
This, them together, was too important.
Chapter
Nine
Starry stared at the furniture in the living room.
They hadn’t been to the country house in almost two years. Like it was some sort of Jane Austen thing, the furniture had all been dust covered, and a skeleton staff had kept the place in tip top shape.
But the furniture was all wrong.
“Alistair? What’s wrong?” Reed came in, a cup of tea in each hand, and he gave one to Alistair.
“The furniture is wrong.” He rubbed his belly and chewed his lower lip.
“Oh.” Reed set his tea aside. “Did you want some help?”
“I do.”
“Okay.” Reed set aside his tea on the huge old primitive table that would really only fit right where it was. “Let me go get the guys.”
They had brought a full complement of guards and such with them when they came. Their whole high rise, really.
Des, of course, was in a tele-meeting with Reed’s clan this morning, so that took precedence over misplaced furniture.
“Okay.” He sipped his tea, then made a face and put it down. Ugh. That was foul.
Reed returned with three stout dragons. “Let the rearranging commence.”
Alistair laughed, delighted to have the help. “Okay. Oh, Reed, we need a Swiffer thingee too.”
“One for the floors, one for the windowsills and such.” Reed scampered off again.
He had the guards moving the big couch when Des strolled into the room.
Des raised an eyebrow at him. “Love?”
“Hmm?” He pushed a small table over six more inches.
“What are we doing?”
“The furniture was all wrong,” Alistair answered, though it should have been so obvious. It was getting better, but honestly. Who had decorated this place? A death dragon?
“Oh.” Des’s expression changed to humor the lunatic kind of thing. Or maybe humor the preggers guy.
