“Shall we let Fern light it?” Ben suggests as he wipes sweats from his forehead.
Theo leans into him, rubbing his horns against him, even as Ben’s wing claw digs playfully into Theo’s shoulder.
“That’s a great idea,” I answer, a smile on my lips.
“Oh, but I wanted to start bread for her,” Theo says, a frown crinkling his forehead.
She has not been interested in much food lately, but toast with goat cheese is always approved. The cast iron pot is waiting near the newly finished kitchen wood fired oven.
“That’s silly,” she calls through the window of our “summer” cabin. The door opens as she continues, “We’ve been cooking in it for weeks now. Nothing special because you got the last bricks in.”
I managed to get Frederick thrown out of Quorum for his bullshit. Since then, I’ve been pushing for reform. Backed by Ben’s data of human omegas, I had most of the leadership frothing at the mouth for peace. It helps that it is mainly alphas that end up in Quorum but fuck it, I’ll use any advantage I have to help my bride achieve the peace she so greatly desires.
Fern places a hand under her swollen belly as she leans in to kiss Ben. I had been worried about how quickly she was growing until I had met one of her friends from Sylrya who was expecting a fully-human babe. She appears to be on par, even with three little ones in there.
She had been quite worried to find out there were three; not common in human women. But in a gargoyle omega? Totally normal. Our young are born small and with delicate, wet wings, more facts that helped our ripe little omega feel at ease.
We had started building the cabin outside Sylrya within a month of her first heat ending. A large one, with a well-suited outbuilding for her brewing and land to grow our own hops. I had rather intended this to be a summer home for us, but Fern, turns out, adores swimming and wants to be in the lake near our main house enough that I was a bit worried she’d grow gills.
Given it is a reasonable flight, we are alternating between our manor and the cabin, getting at least a week here every month. Between work and the split locations, some of the smaller details of finishing the cabin have been pushed aside. Such as the clay tile Theo had made us all sign, Fern’s scrolly name in the middle, of course. Finally ensconced above the keystone of the hearth, Ben had obviously been having some tender thoughts.
“But fine,” Fern acquiesces, kissing me, then Ben.
She crouches down and grabs the matches. “Much easier than a striker,” she chuckles, placing it in the dry tinder.
It blazes to life, sudden, bright, and overwhelming.
Just like our omega.
The End
