“Selthe,” he mutters. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save your bus.”
I laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling my face into his warm flesh. “I don’t care about that. I don’t care about any of it. I have you.”
“Always.”
Gathra is there, helping him to his feet. “What happened?”
“They won’t be back,” Mol says, and something tells me they met their match, and met their end.
“What now?” I whisper, trying to maneuver so that I can help carry him under the other arm. Instead, I find myself lifted up against him, my legs settled at his hip.
“Now we rebuild,” he says. “Starting tomorrow, we salvage what we can and—”
“She must leave.” A massive orc blocks our path, his arms folded over his bare chest. “She’s the reason all of this happened, she—”
Mol growls and the orc falls silent, taking a step back, but more come to stand with him. Orcs I recognize from their group, but don’t yet know the names of. My face heats. I have Mol back, but for how long? Will he choose them over me? Can I blame him if he does?
“Rag’yah is right,” Oran says, stepping forward. “Mol, if it wasn’t for Raven—”
“She goes nowhere.” I feel Mol’s grip on me tighten, his hand scrunching into my ass exactly the same as it did when he carried me the first time. It’s neither the time nor the place, but I can’t help the way it tingles all the way up my spine, making me think of things we could be doing right now if we weren’t standing here having an argument. “She is with my child.”
“Wait, what?” My own voice echoes in my head.
Mol turns his battered face to me, and a grin widens his mouth. One chipped tusk digs into his tongue as he licks his lips. “Don’t tell me you don’t know.” He spreads his hand out over my belly. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it.”
“Feel it, I—Oh my God.”
Something moved.
Something fucking moved inside me and it’s…it’s not possible. Not this fast. Even if I’m pregnant there’s no way that it could possibly…could it?
“My mate,” Mol says, his face growing serious. “I have mated you.”
“She stays,” Gathra says.
“No. You don’t get to decide for all of us. I say we—”
“She stays.” I glance to the side and see Tigor step out of the shadows. He winks at me, then settles himself beside us, staring them all down. “Raven is one of us now. Anyone who disagrees is welcome to leave, but this is Lakktra territory. You want it, you fight us for it.”
There are mutterings and grumbles, and a few of those standing with Oran and Rag’yah switch sides. Then Athaan arrives.
Her eyes meet mine, and I feel my cheeks heat. She’s judging me, I can feel it. And how can I blame her?
“Athaan, I—” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“Raven is my sister. None of this is her fault. She’s carrying the next generation. Any of you motherfuckers want to argue about that, here I am. I’ll rip your fucking eyes out, you so much as come near her or my fucking nephew or niece.”
Utter silence greets her words.
Oran averts his eyes, his tongue glancing across his tusks. Then he nods and steps away from Rag’yah, coming to our side. Behind him, the last few remaining stragglers also head our way, leaving Rag’yah on his own.
“Dickhead,” Athaan mutters as Oran steps in beside us, punching him on the arm. “What were you thinking? You know none of this was Raven’s fault.”
“Sorry.” He turns his head my way. “Sorry, Raven. I guess I just needed someone to blame. It’snotyour fault. You’re one of us.”
“It’s okay, I get it, I—”
“Damn right she’s one of us. And don’t you start apologizing to him, sis,” Athaan says, grinning. “He’s feeling guilty. Milk it. Have a slave for a few weeks.”