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“In my rags?” Perry asked, amusement back in his tone that Sebastian was relieved to hear.
“In your rags. In anything. Or in nothing at all.” Sebastian slid a hand down Perry’s hip and around to cup his ass.
“Impossible dragon.”
“You wouldn’t love me any other way.”
A sweet, musical chuckle burst from Perry. “What you mean to say is that you couldn’t be any other way, and that’s exactly why I love you, darling.” Perry caressed Sebastian’s cheek with cool fingers. “Just know that as hard as it is, and as much as I mourn, I have you and the boys, and it is enough.”
Emotions churned within Perry. Hope and resignation and anger and despair and love. So much love, always. But for all his grace, there was sorrow, too. Sebastian felt it through their bond, which told the truth even when Perry did not.
“But I promised you everything,” Sebastian said after a time.
“And you have given it to me. By your side I have raised a clutch, seen the world, and learned so much. I can weave tapestry and brew beer, both paint and sculpt, cut and polish gems then set them into precious metals, and grow a mighty tree from a tiny acorn. I have learned to ride a horse, to swim, to fence, and to defend myself. I have managed to read nearly as many books as Alistair. Truly, my love, you have given me everything any omega could ever want.”
“Not entirely.” Sebastian’s hand wandered back up Perry’s body, stroking along his side. “You can try to hide the truth from me, but you will never succeed. You are my mate, Perry, and through our bond, I know what you feel. You long for this child. You don’t have to pretend otherwise.”
Perry made a delicate noise of irritation in his throat, then rolled onto his back so his head was on Sebastian’s lap and his body was stretched across the limo’s bench. In his new position, his curls fell away from his face, showing off the golden ear cuffs he wore and the pearl-studded posts in his lobes. “It’s not right of me to want more when you’ve already given me so much,” he admitted quietly.
But Sebastian would not have it. “It is right, Perry, because you are a dragon. Wanting more is in our very bones.”
“Gold, perhaps,” Perry argued, but his heart wasn’t in it. “Or jewels, or art, or coin, but this? It’s not the same, Sebastian.”
“It is.”
“How?”
Sebastian swept a stray curl off Perry’s brow and afforded him a smile. “We hoard the things we consider treasure, Perry. Be they art or gold or the ones we love. This is the way of the dragon. And I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make sure you never lose another treasured thing again.”
* * *
Perry took a sip from the goblet Sebastian proffered and then turned green. He bolted out of their bed and fled for the bathroom. There, he was noisily ill.
Sebastian sighed. Perry was not being a cooperative patient. He wanted to be up and doing, not stuck in a bed, forced to eat and drink the things Everard recommended.
What could be so bad about beet juice?
Sebastian looked into the goblet at the villainous juice that had made his mate ill. It was a deep red color and had a rich smell that reminded him of autumn, after the leaves had fallen from the trees and become crisp.
Perhaps it was morning sickness. What else could it be?
Sebastian tilted the goblet back and forth, watching the liquid swirl and pool. Perry had been feeling so poorly lately that he’d been forced to stop venturing out, lest any of the more observant members of their family notice that something was wrong. For the sake of Perry’s heart, not one of them knew of the struggles he’d been through, save Everard, and the three of them endeavored to keep it that way. Once it had been because Sebastian had doubted any of them would understand why they’d mourn the loss of a Disgrace, but now that hearts were changing, it was simply for Perry’s sake.
It hurt badly enough to suffer a loss like that in private, but to have to relive it time and time again when well-meaning family inquired after the health of the babe who’d passed? It was too much.
Sebastian absentmindedly took a sip from the goblet and reeled back like he’d been struck. Only his strong constitution kept him from spitting it out. No wonder Perry couldn’t keep it down. Beet juice tasted like liquid dirt. How did humans drink this? It was, in a word, disgusting.
When Perry came back to their bed, he pointed at the offending glass of dark red liquid. “That’s it,” he said. “I don’t care how healthy Everard purports it to be—I’m not drinking it. I refuse.”
“I cannot blame you.” Sebastian set the goblet aside and held out another, this one filled with a clear and colorless liquid. “It’s quite vile.”
“Quite,” Perry agreed, and regarded the new goblet with suspicion. “I don’t suppose this will prove any better?”
“It’s water.”
“Good.” Perry cuddled up to his side and took the goblet from him, sipping the water slowly.
“To be fair,” Sebastian said after a while, “the beet juice may taste terrible, but it is good for you.”
