Page 27 of A Swan for Christmas

Kellan furrowed his brow and rubbed a finger across his lower lip. “I’m dying for some good pond snails, but if I had to, I could make do with a couple juicy bull frogs.”

That’s it. I’m never eating again.

“I might have better luck with the frogs. There’s a specialty market in town that I’ve sometimes seen them in.”

“You’re the best mate ever, Vic. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

More sobbing seemed imminent, so Vic gathered Kellan in his arms, whispering soothing words and gentling him before he dared leave his emotional mate alone, so he could embark on his mission.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’d better get going before it gets too late. Do you think you can rest a bit while I’m gone? Make sure you have lots of strength for the nest-building later?”

Kellan swiped a finger under his nose. “I can try. I sort of feel weird again like I did that night at the market.”

Vic struggled between staying with Kellan if he wasn’t feeling well or getting the blankets—and snails—for his agitated mate. But Vic sensed that Kellan needed to focus on assembling his nest and, if he was having a craving, Vic could at least try to get him what he wanted.

“I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

After another kiss and hug, Vic took off. He jumped in his truck and headed to the restaurant to get an apple pie. While he hated to barge in on Rosemary, this was an emergency as far as he was concerned. He hoped the pie would soften the blow of his intrusion.

Once he reached her white, stately mansion that boasted three storys, he grabbed the pie offering and strode to her door with purpose. He attempted to maintain focus instead of obsessing over whether Kellan was at the cabin laying an egg with no one there to hold his hand.

Or whatever it is that swans do.

He smoothed a hand down his shirt them knocked on the door. Rosemary’s maid, Philomena, answered almost immediately.

“Good evening, Vic. How are you?”

“Hi, Philomena. I’m okay. Listen, I hate to bother Rosemary at home, but do you think you could see if she’ll speak with me? I promise I won’t take up too much of her time.”

“Well… she did just finish dinner.”

Vic held up the pie triumphantly. “Perfect! I have her favorite apple pie.”

Philomena let out a light laugh. “I’m sure that’ll buy you an audience. Hold on a moment, Vic. I’ll see if she’s available.”

To his extreme relief, Philomena returned not even a few minutes later and ushered him inside. He was led to what he remembered from a previous visit as being the drawing room. Rosemary breezed in right after.

“Ah Vic, I presume you’ve stopped by with some questions about that dear mate of yours?”

Vic twisted his hands, surprisingly nervous. If she didn’t give him some info about their situation, he wasn’t sure what he could do next. “Yeah, thanks so much for seeing me. I’m at my wit’s end.”

Rosemary gestured to the antique carved wood sofa with embroidered upholstery. “Have a seat, Vic. You’re putting me on edge. When a fellow werewolf begins to come unhinged, it’s rather disconcerting. The scent of fear is pouring off you.”

Vic winced. “Oh. My bad.” He perched on the edge of the couch.

She sighed then took the wing chair opposite him. “Now, what can I help you with?”

“His heat’s over, I’m sure of that.”

Rosemary snorted. “By ‘his’, I take it you mean Kellan?”

Vic rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, sorry, I’m so worried about him.”

“Now, now, dear. Take a deep breath. Swans have been laying eggs for centuries and wolves have been whelping just as long.” She shrugged. “Or thereabouts. Point being, the birth parent knows what to do—it’s a built-in mechanism.”

“Yeah, but most shifters here use the hospital these days and…” He clasped his hands together to keep from fidgeting. “Well, this is a swan and wolf all mixed up together.” He frowned. “Maybe. We’re afraid that if he does lay an egg, it won’t be fertile because of me.”

“Ah, I see. Well, we’ve had plenty of inter-specie shifter children before.”