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Syrus slowly shifted away from Luke’s tempting body. “Dada is sleeping,” he whispered. “We must let him rest.”

Colby took that statement in silence as he stood solemnly in the doorway. His pajamas had little sharks on them. Adorable.

Syrus himself wore nothing, which he knew Luke wouldn’t appreciate under these circumstances. Syrus’s robe was too far away to reach without revealing himself. But Luke’s underwear…

Syrus reached blindly under the sheets—careful not to disturb Luke with his movements—and found the balled fabric, straightening it and tugging it up and over his hips under the cover of the blanket.

Luke slept through it all, which couldn’t have been entirely due to Syrus’s natural grace. His human was clearly exhausted, poor thing. He’d barely stayed conscious long enough after their mating for Syrus to cleanse him with a damp cloth before his eyes had fallen closed, worn out from his tiring day. And, possibly, from Syrus’s…enthusiastic attentions.

Syrus grinned at the thought, then grimaced at the tight fit of the wretched underwear around his hips and thighs. What in all the oceans could be the purpose of such a thing? Nonetheless, he kept the offending fabric in place as he slipped out from under the covers and easily lifted a silent Colby.

Colby didn’t protest, just wrapped his little arms around Syrus’s neck. Perhaps he knew the truth of things, in the wise way of young spawn. Perhaps he felt it in his tiny bones that Syrus would never let him come to harm.

Or perhaps he was simply too tired to complain.

Syrus took them both to the child’s bedroom. The room was dark, and there was a small machine letting out artificial sounds of ocean waves. Syrus’s eyesight was already quite keen, and he’d adjusted to the lack of light. Enough to see that Colby’s crib was truly beautiful, all warm honey wood, a colorful painting of a tide pool hanging above it.

Had Luke made the crib himself? Syrus had a feeling he had. Luke would have wanted something created by his own hands. His own way of welcoming little Colby into the world as the child grew in his mother’s belly.

The bars of the crib were certainly high enough for its usual purpose. Syrus smiled down at Colby. “Did you really climb out by yourself? So clever.”

Colby giggled, a quiet, sleepy sound, and Syrus plopped him down on the mattress carefully. Colby sat exactly where he’d been set, staring up at Syrus.

“I’m going to sing you a lullaby now,” Syrus told him. “You must lie down.”

Colby stuck a thumb in his mouth, seemingly in no rush to move. They gazed at each other for a long moment. Just when Syrus was considering repeating his command, Colby finally shifted down on his belly, his small bottom up in the air. Syrus grabbed the knit blanket in the corner of the crib and spread it over him, already humming.

The song was an old one, used by the breeders in his pod to soothe their young to slumber. It wasn’t quite true to form with Syrus’s stubborn human vocal cords, but Colby’s eyes drifted shut even faster than Luke’s had with the same melody, his breaths slowing until they were deep and steady.

Syrus still finished the song for good measure. It would have felt too incomplete to leave Colby without doing so. He was so small, so fragile lying there. It was a wonder any human young survived the harsh realities of the world around them long enough to grow up. What a task Luke had undertaken, all on his lonesome.

He wouldn’t be doing it alone any longer.

Syrus didn’t return to the bed right away, even though his healing feet ached from a long day spent vertical. Instead, he climbed carefully down the stairs, walking from room to room. He checked that the doors were locked, the windows shut tight. He wasn’t positive what threats might be out there, but he did know he’d been brought to this land through violent and vicious means. He would not deem this town Luke so loved safe until he’d come to that conclusion on his own.

Syrus could understand now the appeal of the box as shelter. The way it kept the world out and the humans safely inside, where they were meant to be. It would allow Syrus to sleep easily at Luke’s side, trusting the walls around them to stand watch when he was unable to do so.

Syrus returned to Luke’s room with a strange sense of satisfaction running through his veins. He slipped into bed beside his human and wrapped him up in his arms, tossing his leg back over Luke’s hip.

Syrus didn’t even mind now that the bedroom window was closed, keeping the refreshing night air from touching his skin. Nor that his bones had started to ache, a telltale sign that he needed to return to the water soon. None of that mattered in the moment, not when he had the scent of a warm, satiated Luke to soothe him back to sleep.

Syrus smiled as he tucked Luke deeper into the safety of his own body.

Yes, everything was just as it should be.

16

LUKE

Luke dreamed of the ocean again.

He wasn’t standing on the shore this time, safe and dry with his feet firmly on land. He was under the waves, his body pulled this way and that by the current. It should have been terrifying, but it somehow wasn’t. Maybe because there no struggle to hold his breath, no salt sting when he opened his eyes. The water was cool against his skin but not cold. He could almost believe he belonged there, right up to the point where a warm, muscular something rose from the depths and brushed against him, jerking Luke awake.

Luke panted, trying to get his bearings as his eyes shot open. It was a struggle. There was nothing familiar about the way he woke up.

For one, it wasn’t Luke’s alarm or Colby’s crying rousing him from slumber. It was a firm body behind him, a hard length at his lower back, and roaming hands stirring through his chest hair. Which led to the second unfamiliar aspect of the morning: Luke wasn’t alone in his bed.

But of course he wasn’t. Luke shivered, a surge of heat running through him as memories of the previous night came rushing back. Inviting Syrus to his bed, getting wrecked by Syrus’s dexterous fingers, and then…