Kaelen groans again. "Two months."
"Right. Two months of patrol coverage." I beam at him. "Looks like I'll have plenty of free time to spend with my pregnant mate."
"I hate you," Kaelen mutters, but there's no real heat behind it. Just resigned acceptance.
Gorrak barks out a laugh from his position upstream. "This is what happens when you raise competitive warriors, Mora. They turn everything into a contest."
"Apparently," Mora says dryly. But I catch the subtle pride in her expression. "Though I suppose congratulations are in order. Both to Serah for her pregnancy and to Rakk for..." She pauses delicately. "Winning his bet."
"Thank you." Serah leans into my side with comfortable ease that still makes my heart stutter. "Though I reserve the right to be annoyed about being wagered over."
"Noted." I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her—herbs and sunlight and something uniquely Serah. "I love you."
"I know." Her hand finds mine, fingers interlacing. "I love you too. Even when you're being an idiot."
Lola shifts on her rock, one hand moving to her belly with a wince. "Well, this is good motivation for me. Clearly I need to produce this baby quickly so we can start the next competition."
"Next competition?" Serah asks warily.
"Obviously." I grin at Kaelen. "Who can produce a second child first?"
"Absolutely not," both women say in unison.
But Kaelen is already smirking. "You're on. Standard terms?"
"Standard terms," I agree immediately. "Winner gets?—"
"No." Serah cuts me off firmly. "No more breeding bets. We're having one baby. Let's survive that before planning competitions about second children."
"Wise woman," Mora murmurs.
"Spoilsport," I counter, but I'm grinning because I don't actually care about the bet. I care about the reality of it—Serah pregnant with my child, happy and healthy and choosing this life with me. Choosing me, over and over, despite everything we've survived to get here.
Lola leans back against Kaelen with a contented sigh. "I'm just glad you finally won something, Rakk. Kaelen's been unbearable about his victories lately."
"I have not?—"
"You absolutely have," Lola interrupts, patting his arm. "You gloated for three days when you beat him at that hunting competition."
"That was different. That was skill-based."
"And this wasn't?" I gesture broadly at Serah. "Pretty sure getting someone pregnant requires significant skill."
Serah smacks my arm again, harder this time. "If you describe sex with me as a skill-based competition one more time?—"
"It's a skill-based activity of mutual pleasure and connection?" I offer innocently.
She tries to glare but ends up laughing instead. "You're impossible."
"You wouldn't have me any other way."
"True." She tilts her face up, and I kiss her properly—deep and unhurried, not caring that we have an audience. When we break apart, her eyes are soft with emotion. "I'm glad we get to do this together. Have a family. Build something real."
"Me too." The words feel inadequate for the depth of what I'm feeling, but she understands. She always understands now. "You're everything, Serah. You and this baby. This life. All of it."
"Sentimental," Kaelen mutters, but his expression is fond. "Domesticity has made you soft."
"Says the orc who just spent ten minutes fussing over whether his mate needed a cushion," I shoot back.
