A laugh bubbles out of me as Breccan groans.
“No one wants to hear about this,” Breccan says, shaking his head.
“I’m curious,” I blurt out. “Maybe you can write about these dynamics. For Quinn’s library.”
Sayer scrubs his palm over his face. “Grace will really throttle us if we write about that aspect of our mating in a book for all to read.”
“It’d be for the greater good of mortkind,” I argue, knowing Quinn would love this for her library.
“If Breccan tells Aria about this place and he lives to tell the tale, then perhaps we’ll consider it,” Sayer says, giving us the brush-off. “Now let’s get out of here and see if we can restore power.”
I’m exhausted by the time we make our way inside the familiar parts of the facility. Galen is nowhere to be found, most likely brooding someplace. Excited chatter fills the darkened building. Handlanterns light up the Medical Bay. We head that way to see what the commotion is about.
Before we reach the door, a dark shadow fills the space, sub-bones popping loudly.
“Is everyone okay?” Breccan asks, ignoring Draven’s threatening stance.
Draven seems to relax, realizing it’s just us. “Aside from being in the dark, everyone is well.” His teeth flash white and menacing in the shadows. “Molly gave birth.”
It’s then I notice the bundle in his arms. We all eagerly crowd around him to see the mortling. With a massive hand, he tugs away the blanket, revealing his little one to us.
“Why does it have two nogs?” Jareth asks.
Draven grunts. “There’s two mortlings there. She had two.”
“Two?” Breccan asks, astonished. “How? A mutation?”
“I don’t rekking know,” Draven growls. “All I know is they’re mine. Stop gawking or I’ll rip your eyeballs out to feed them to my young.”
“Draven!” Molly calls out. “Slow your ride, cowboy. They’re not villains, they’re your friends. I won’t have you teaching the twins cannibalism before they’ve even formed fangs.”
“But cannibalism is okay once the fangs have come in?” Quinn chimes in from beside her. “Interesting.”
Molly laughs. “I’ve had enough comments from the peanut gallery. Take a break, Quinn, sugar. You certainly earned it and quite frankly I’m tapped out on your odd sense of humor.”
Quinn makes her way over to the doorway where Draven is still blocking it. He steps aside and dips down so Quinn can peek at the mortlings.
“Which one is Quinlan again?” she asks, grinning.
“The female,” Draven grunts. “The male is called—”
“Nope,” Molly barks out. “Don’t say it.”
“Vendar,” Draven whispers. “A variation of my name. He is at least three times bigger than his womb mate.”
“Ew, don’t say it like that,” Molly groans. “Just call them twins. Or siblings. Not, er, mate anything. Not cool, Draven.”
“Vendar is her protector,” he explains to us. “And as he grows, he will protect his mother too in the event I am unable to.”
“His name isn’t Vendar,” Molly says. “I like the name Thomas after my pops.”
“What’s a Thomas?” I ask. “A good version of a Kevin?”
“He is not any version of a Kevin,” Draven snarls, “which is why he is Vendar.”
“Oh, sweet baby Jesus, are we really going to get divorced over the naming of our son?” Molly grumbles. “Vendar sounds like something out of Star Wars!”
“Quinn told me Star Wars was a vintage story of hero aliens in space,” Draven grumbles back.
“Vendar sounds like Vader!”
“Would you prefer it if we call him Vader?”
“Listen, cupcake,” Molly says in exasperation. “You’re lucky you’re so cute because you’re really starting to chap my hide.”
“Wait? Draven…cute?” Jareth cocks his nog to the side. “Are we talking about the same Draven?”
Draven’s sub-bones start popping again.
“On that note,” I say with a chuckle as I grab Quinn’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
It’s a dark walk back to my rooms, but once I get Quinn inside and manhandle the door shut, I pounce on her. The handlantern falls from my grip and rolls across the floor. I don’t need light to strip her down. Besides, the magnastrikes light up the room every few minutes, giving me just enough light to see what I need to see.
Once we’re naked, I run my palms down my mate’s rump and lift her up. Her fingers cling to my hair as I slide her down over my cock. We both groan at the sensation. Then, I pin her to the wall, driving hard into her, needing to fill her to the brim with my seed.
“You’re frantic,” Quinn observes, her voice breathless. “Talk to me, Oz.”
I capture her lips with mine, swiping my tongue across hers and devouring her moans. She kisses me eagerly in return. My flesh slaps against hers as I thrust closer and closer to oblivion. When I get close, I break from our kiss to smile against her lips.
“We did it,” I tell her. “We made a weapon and it’s going to protect us. We have a future, Quinn.”