Clothes clutched to my chest, I dashed along the dark hall for the bathroom. The light in here blinded me. Another twinge of queasiness. This time I was prepared to put it down to heat and psychological and emotional … conditions.
I’d flushed the toilet and started the shower when I thought I heard a tiny tapping at the door.
“Andrew?” I cracked the door.
He was rubbing his eyes, groggy and blinking in the light.
I let him in. He joined me in the shower, spending most of his time with his forehead against the cool, white surface of the tub/shower combo running up the wall. I hugged him and shampooed his thick hair before he started tending to his own affairs and I was already getting out.
I was dressed, hair in a towel, starting on my face, before he was out and shaving—towel around his waist, pulling things from his toiletry kit on the counter.
“Is your bag on the couch? I’ll get your clothes.”
He nodded and turned his face the other way to the mirror. He was not one of those in the pack who used a straight razor, yet I still worried about him—he looked so out of it.
I brought him is bag, then finished with the last of my own preparations. I skipped coffee, but sucked on a ginger candy drop while I packed up phone, charger, notebook, and took my two bags to the door.
Only papers and a couple books in the messenger bag. I stared stupidly at it for a second in the entrance, then rushed back to my room and completely traded out the bag as fast as I could. I replaced the messenger with a big, bright blue duffel bag that had room for the school books and papers as well as my pillow, dreamcatcher, slicker brush, the rope toy they’d played with in fur, and the elk antler that stretched the bag out from tip to tip.
Andrew passed me in the hall as I hurried back to dry my hair. I hated to run the hairdryer with Preeda trying to sleep but kept things as brief as I could.
One last check of my room, fans off, my few bits of dirty laundry tossed in the hamper under the desk, everything else put back in closet or under the bed. Andrew had folded his sheets and blanket and left them on the foot of my made up bed. Jewelry either on or in my backpack. Shoes at the door. Water bottle to sip until security. Ginger and elderberry. On a last whim, I grabbed another red fragment of adobe from my bedside drawer. I added this to the newly packed blue duffel and dashed to meet Andrew, waiting for me at the front door.
He took the blue bag. Backpack and shoes on, I grabbed the van keys, and my own home key, let the door lock behind us, then turned to Andrew in the illuminated hall. Besides his messenger bag across his shoulder and the duffel, he carried a paper sack with his box of PayDays and perhaps more food. That should fit in the blue bag as well. We could consolidate at the airport.
He had his glasses on for the long travel day, watching what I did with my keys and backpack straps rather than looking at me properly.
I took a breath, stuffed the keys in my pocket, and faced him squarely. I lifted both hands to his face, gently cupping his sharp jaw, hardly touching. For an instant he met my eyes, then dropped his gaze again.
I longed to ask him if he was all right, if there was anything I could do. Such stupid things to ask. Of course he wasn’t all right. I only leaned in closer, forehead to his shoulder, hand to the back of his neck: an embrace which Andrew returned by leaning into me as well. Then we jogged downstairs for the van.
A quick drive to the hostel—everyone ready and waiting as promised.
Another drive to the airport and car rental company to leave our van. They provided a shuttle to the terminal. It was on this brief ride that I began to feel really sick.
Another ginger candy. Shuffle contents of bags around to economize. Now I had a bag to check so I left the others at self check-in and took Jason to wait in a short line for in-person help.
“Give me the collar,” I told him, hardly moving my lips. I’d be fine. The ginger was already helping.
Jason was blank, but I prompted him and he rummaged the huge steel collar from his backpack. I wrapped the nylon leash around it and stowed it in with my pillow. No one had asked what I had in the bag.
Soon, all seven of us were waiting in the much longer line for security. Still, this seemed a good hour for minimal airport lines—if not a good hour for anything else.
I gulped down water and threw out the bottle, then wished I had it back as we waited with other sleepy or frustrated travelers. My stomach rolled over. The security area felt hotter than my bedroom last night. I could get a cup of ice at a Starbucks. But not until we were through. Just get through.
Goddess, I was going to throw up.
I clenched my teeth, willing the bile back down, so hot I felt dizzy.
Shit. I was supposed to be better. This wasn’t better. This was just like yesterday morning only now I was upright and in public and could not go back to bed if my life depended on it. And maybe it did.
I started to take off my backpack for crystalized ginger but too late. The line was moving again and I had to hold out passport and boarding pass for scan and inspection. This done, I went straight into a new, short line for the actual security screening. Just enough time to pull off my shoes and stow my watch in my backpack. In the quick scramble, I had to bend to grab one of those plastic tubs and bring it up to the security belt where I dropped pack and shoes and my quirt bag of liquids. When I bent over, my stomach leapt straight into my esophagus.
Teeth locked painfully together, tears in my eyes, bile and worse filling my mouth, I straightened up and got everything into the bin or onto the belt.
Swallowing and swallowing, sucking in air through my nose, I waited until directed to walk through the simple metal detector—no full scan—then almost ran to get my things back. Forget the ginger. And the gate. I needed a bathroom.
There were shops and endless corridors after security. Huge yellow and black signs overhead pointed to left and right, indicating which way to head depending on the letter and number of your gate. Zar had been beside me in line, already at my shoulder as I was pulling my pack back on.
I couldn’t take off and leave them with the hopes that everyone made it through the screening without a hitch and Kage didn’t start arguing with security agents or anything. But I couldn’t stay either.
Terrified even to open my mouth a quarter inch, I tried, “Bathroom.” I gulped. “Gate’s close—” Pointing. “I’ll catch up.”
“Cass? All right?” He turned to follow me rather than waiting for the others.
“Stay with them.” I clenched my teeth and walked on as fast as I could without running.
Another fifty yards to the restrooms, then a hallway, women on the right, and I dived in. One more passage lined with stalls.
Voices, hand driers roaring, toilets flushing, artificial air freshener reek of the place sending my stomach over the edge again. At the first open door I darted inside, latched it, and threw up.
Chapter 18
Andrew waited for me in the corridor leading to the bathrooms. He was standing by the water fountain when I emerged—a considerable amount of time after I’d first gone in there. No other familiar faces in sight.
I’d already rinsed my mouth but drank from the fountain and put a piece of ginger in my mouth before I could face him.
“Hey.” I brushed my hands on my jeans, wishing I had on yoga pants as my stomach still rolled. Mostly, I wished I was lying down. “Did they go on to the gate?” I chewed a little at the ginger to get the taste in my mouth.
“What do you think?” He cocked his head.
I let out a breath. “No. They’re all out in the terminal waiting for me.”
“Plenty of time, Belle. We have an hour before it’s even time to board.”
I nodded. “Still—”
“I told them you were upset about having to leave home right after you’d only had a couple days back.”
“You did?”
Why was he covering for me? So he really had known I’d been sick the day before
? Meaning he knew there was something I wanted covered up?
For some reason, this simple understanding, not to mention the help and compassion, brought fresh tears to my eyes.
“Sit down.” He reached to touch my shoulder and led me back to the end of the wide corridor.
Inside this tunnel—giving the illusion of being away from hubbub of the main terminal in the early morning hours, with the windows to the tarmac beyond still showing dark skies and electric lights—we sat on the floor, backs to the wall.
“I’m sorry.” I fumbled tissues from my bag, wiped my eyes, and leaned back my head, eyes shut. “Maybe you’re right and I didn’t even know it. It’s been … intense here. I do wish we had more time.”
Andrew looked around. I also looked up.
Kage had come to sniff out the end of the hall. “Want to stay here?” he asked me.
“Of course not—” I started to get up. I didn’t know if he meant Portland or this exact spot, but it hardly mattered.
Andrew caught my arm, holding me in place. “We’re talking, mate.” He addressed Kage coolly. “Loads of time. Go buy water bottles.”
Jason appeared at Kage’s side, hand going to his elbow. He remembered himself—no touching in public in this country—and stepped back, only jerking his head at Kage, who scowled at Andrew.
“We’ll be along in a minute,” I said. “I’m fine, Kage.”
He nodded, yet still glared as he turned away. He muttered something as he left with Jason.
“What’d he say?” I glanced at Andrew.
“‘Like she hasn’t had plenty of minutes with that prick lately.’”
I sighed. “You’d think Jason might defend you.”
Andrew shrugged. “I wouldn’t. I’d think Jay would side with Kage over me even if Kage had the bloody knife in his hand and I was lying on the floor. ‘Brotherly love’ around here only stretches so far against a mate’s love.”
I looked at him, his eyes focused on mine through the glasses. This time, I was the first to drop my gaze.
“You scared?” He asked at last.
“Scared?” I thought about my breathing and chewing the ginger. I rummaged out another piece. “Sure I’m scared. But … no matter. We have to do what we have to do.”
He nodded, head against the wall, eyes shut for a moment, taking his own deep breaths. “And I suppose you don’t want them to know?”
“To know?”
He looked at me.
“That I’m scared?” I asked.
“No, about what’s happening.”
“Happening? I’ll be better soon enough. It’s not going to help anyone to know I’m not feeling well. They’d only fret.”
“Better soon?” He twisted his head, frowning. “Cassia, you’re pregnant.”
I smiled, almost laughed. “No I’m not.”
“You’re not?”
“Of course not. You really think I have even more happening in my love life than the bunch of you? Good grief, I can hardly keep up as it is. I hadn’t slept with anyone in months before I met you guys. And we’re not compatible. So…” I held up my hands.
Andrew stared for a second—while I felt any little bubble of lightness pop, any little certainty melt, and any big ignorance slowly die under that disbelieving gaze.
“Highly … highly … unlikely…” I corrected myself.
“Not impossible,” Andrew said. “As I thought you knew. It does happen.”
“I…”
“You seriously didn’t know? I mean … aren’t you late? Didn’t you have an inkling?”
“I … guess … yeah.” Shit, maybe … a couple weeks late? Not unheard of for me to be a bit irregular. “I haven’t been at my best for focus and keeping up with personal … situations in the midst of … stuff…”
“Indeed.” Andrew cocked his head the other way, his eyebrows drawing in, his eyes very sad, pitying. “Well, then, let me be the first to congratulate you.”
Chapter 19
I stared at him for a good many breaths, mouth open, taste of ginger on my numb tongue, before I managed, “You can’t tell them. No one can know.”
“Yes.” He sighed and pushed a hand through his newly dry hair. “I reckon not.”
Maybe it was a weird—even disturbing, cruel—thought to be the first when one finds out one is pregnant. Right at that moment, though, with a wave of terror flowing over me—shock, bewilderment, no plan, no idea what to do, already trapped in a life or death situation—my frantic mind had to focus on one aspect at a time. And the first aspect was right this minute.
The fact that Andrew agreed with me offered a glimmer of courage, of hope that such an instant thought was actually rational and made perfect sense. First hurdle: no one knows. Check. But he knew.
“The extra viciousness tossed into an already tense group relationship situation for starters,” I said—as if Andrew had asked me to justify my request for secrecy.
“Viciousness? What about?”
“Like who the father is? New arguments?” I wiped my eyes.
“They don’t care.”
I sniffed, drawing the tissue away. “What?”
“No way. A non-issue, believe me.”
“How’s that?”
“Consider the options,” he said. “Morning sickness is pretty typical about a month along. So that could only be Isaac or Zar. On the other hand, it’s not unheard of to start as early as a couple weeks. Besides that, you’re dealing with a cross-species fetus. Who knows what the little miracle might do to you? So we could maybe take Jason and Kage into account. Right?” Giving me a pointed look over the top of his glasses, but not really pausing to let me answer. “Then your breakdown is thus: Jason doesn’t give a shit. The other three? They’re already sure she’s theirs. Nothing to discuss, like I said.”
“Oh … right…”
“No, darling, you have plenty of other reasons for keeping this to yourself for as long as you can. Lady-hair for example. How would he be if he knew?”
“He’d…”
“Disgusting. Absolutely revolting. I don’t know what you see in him.”
“Zar? He’s so … it’s in such a good way. He’s so kind and sincere and … it just…”
“Makes you want to eat his face? He’s only one example anyway. You know—and I know—that when they find out it will destroy your life.” His gaze into my eyes had become alarmingly fixed, latched onto me like a sheepdog with scary intensity that drove home his words and made me lean back. “If they know, they won’t let you walk down the street. They won’t let you leave home. You’ll stay within reach of two or three at all times with an armed guard. They’d go buy guns if we were staying in this country—it’s so bloody easy. Once they know, you will be carefully held, coddled, fed, guarded, adored, worshiped, and looked after, not merely for the next seven or eight months, but for the rest of your life.” His eyes narrowed. “You think we hang on you now, darling? Won’t let you out of our sight for a bathroom break? Won’t let you spend a night alone in your own home out of concern for your wellbeing? Let me tell you. You have no idea.” Drawing out the last words very slowly.
“Goddess.” I swallowed. “What am I supposed to do?”
Andrew smiled. “Don’t tell them. You already said it.”
“No, I know. But … eventually.”
“Explode that bridge when you reach it. For now, do everything you can to keep them from knowing. Including following my story of you being upset—not sick—about leaving here. If you can’t hide being sick, maybe a doctor’s visit in Brighton? Let them see you popping pills for a stomach flu?”
I nodded. “You’re very … devious.”
“You’re welcome.”
“But what about none of you getting sick?”
“Different immune systems. Highly unlikely we’d catch anything from you.”
“Highly unlikely I’d catch a baby from any of you.”
“Touché. But don’t worry about that. Now th
at you know what’s going on, take anti-nausea meds—like that ginger—and don’t be sick. That would be the easiest to cover up.”
“Andrew,” I gasped and he looked around, trying to follow my unfocused gaze past him. “This explains so much. I’ve been feeling … weird. The nausea wasn’t the first thing. It was emotional stuff, I think. Tearing up at everything. Then … feverish. A lot more than just ‘late’ if I start to think about it. But … I don’t even know … it’s not like I’ve ever been pregnant before. I’ve never… I thought … years from now. Plenty of time to educate myself.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage to do that under time constraints, darling.”
“And you… How did you know?”
“I was suspicious from smell since the Rockies. But, after the last few days, and today, pretty easy to put it together.”
“Smell? You mean they’re going to figure it out fast anyway?”
“I … don’t think so.” He hesitated. “They’d have to be in fur. Our noses are not canny enough like this. Then, they’d have to know what they’re sniffing in female human hormones to tell the difference. We all have hormonal cycles, male and female, wolf and human. It’s nothing to write home about. Those with noses untuned to humans, or to pregnant females, are probably not going to catch on to what they’re smelling for a good long time. Jed might have his nose on you every Moon, but he’s never had his nose on another woman, so as far as he’s concerned that’s just how you smell. Right? The only one I’d be concerned a bit more about is Isaac. I don’t know if he knows pregnancy from heartburn, but he does know humans. Fortunately, in our day-to-day, it’s pretty rare for you to be around him when he’s in fur.”
“But you knew.”
He looked into my eyes a moment, finally dropping his gaze and facing the opposite wall.
“Not just the smell,” I said. “You know way more about this than I do.”
He still seemed to watch the wall, his eyes not flickering as several people walked past us.
“How far along was Sarah?”
“Three months.” A pause. “But our gestation period is only eight months. No idea how it will be for you, mixing things up.” He looked at me.
Moonlight Lovers: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 7) Page 11