And lurking on the fringes, I feel the Salorian's presence. Not attacking, but still present. I send him an angry push, letting him know he is not welcome, and he fades away.
"What is it?" Jenny asks, looking over her shoulder at me.
For a moment, I am confused as to what she asks about. The noise in my head is so loud—the infants greeting one another, sending happy emotions, Tunjozefren's newborn confusion, Vaan's delight at his son—that I momentarily forget that my mate cannot hear any of this. Vaan's mate has given birth. Their son is Tunjozefren.
"Oh!" Her thoughts fill with joy. "I'll have to make him some clothes. Gwen and Vaan must be so happy."
They are. I scoop a handful of foam off my mate's head and try to concentrate on her despite the noise in my mind. It is not bad noise, not like usual. This is a familiar, friendly clutter of minds reaching out to touch one another. How much more foam do we need for you to be clean?
Jenny chuckles at me. "That's plenty. Now we rinse." And she slithers forward in the tub again, dunking her head between my thighs as she shakes the foam free. Her thoughts drift while she rinses. Does Azar know? About the new baby?
He was there. Lurking.
You think he'll agree to our demands? She rises back up out of the water, sputtering and wiping her face.
I consider this. I think he has no choice. He will either continue on as he has and risk losing Vaan and Jurik and their mates—and their young—or he will have to give in to us. He will not like either option, but if he is smart, he will ally with us because we do not seek to take his fort from him. He will fight to keep control of something.
Do you think he'll break the rules and try to steal your mind again? Her thoughts are full of worry.
Salorians are not to be trusted, but he will lose all if he tries it. Jurik and Vaan and their mates will not stand for it. I touch one of the rivulets of water running down her back. If we three pairs are together, he will be forced to bow to us.
"I hope so," Jenny says softly. She shifts her weight, her backside rubbing against the insides of my thighs.
I grow hard, enjoying the feel of my very wet, very slippery mate pressing up against me. More washing? I ask, even as I stroke my fingertips down her arms.
Maybe later? Her thoughts are hazy with pleasure, and her desire mounts. Maybe we…do something else for a bit instead?
I lift her up and settle her on my lap, sliding my legs under her. My cock now presses against her backside, and she rubs herself against me. I cup her breasts, teasing the tips. So responsive, my soft, pretty mate. She is utterly perfect, my Jenny. Just…perfect. Do you want to mate here or on the bed?
She wriggles against me again, her movements deliberate. Can we do it here?
Oh yes. I tug her backward until she is leaning against my chest, and slide a hand between her thighs. We can do a lot here. Let me show you.
I love the sigh of pleasure she makes almost as much as I love how slick she is for me already.
38
JENNY
The next morning, Mhal awakens me with a kiss. The captive drakoni are gone.
That shakes all the lingering slumber off of me. I race out of bed and move toward the metal shutters of the room, pulling them open and peering into the early morning daylight. The sun glints off some of the broken windshields of the old cars that make the barricades, but I see no dragons atop them. "You're sure?"
Their scents are old. They have been gone for a while. Something happened overnight. Mhal moves behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders. Are you not pleased?
I turn to look up at him. He's wearing his glasses, and he looks so darn cute in them. Like the most feral, golden nerd I've ever seen. It's distracting, and for a moment I forget my train of thoughts. "I'm pleased," I say. "I just don't trust Azar. I'm wondering what he's up to."
Shall we go and find out?
We dress quickly. I pull on one of my piecemeal dresses and a pair of sandals. Then, I brush Mhal's hair for him, pulling it back into a loose queue while he ditches his glasses. He wears nothing but gray sweatpants and manages to look mouthwateringly hot. It's distracting, because part of me wants to drag him back to bed.
But there's so much going on we can't.
The moment we set out of our room, Vaan is there, his arms full of his new son. We pause for a few minutes to admire the sleeping baby—Tunjozefren is the prettiest little mite with a cap of thick black curls and golden skin. It feels like a tongue-tangling name for such a tiny baby, but the drakoni are very pleased with it and I know names mean a lot to them.