Page 44 of Bred By Zyros
I nod, whimpering as he repositions the tip on my tongue, rubbing my tongue across the opening slit between his forked head. His clawed hand strangles his knot as he works it over, watching waves of his come paint my tongue before slopping out. It’s dirty, horribly so, yet another orgasm rips through me as he groans. “So beautiful.”
My eyes are watering by the time he gathers me up, letting me swallow what’s left in my throat and drags me deeper into the spring to clean me.
twenty-five
Melody
Hiding contractions from an entirely obsessive, overbearing, and half insane with worry alien is some straight Chris Angel shit. The Thryss start up another fuss around me as my fourth in three zentics slams through my lower back like a hot iron. I level them with a glare that saysI dare you. They all stop in unison, warbling at me in a way that I can only imagine is the alien frog critter version of a teenager talking back. One starts swaying dramatically as it makes a weird wailing chitter sound, and I’m pretty sure I am just told off.
They stick another round of barbs in the tail of my mate as he paces the cave, which is what he’s been doing for the past two days. I fear he’s not going to make it. He barely flicks at them, which is an indicator that he’s totally losing his grip, consideringhe’d usually at least smash them a bit. I risk a deep breath, and as soon as it leaves my lips, he's on me.
His severe brows furrow as he bends to my height, where I’m sitting on blankets piled by the spring. His teal hair hangs into his face as he stares at me. “Something is wrong,” he states.
“Nothingis wrong.”
“You lie. You’ve taken six deep breaths in this zentic alone.”
I shrug. “Maybe you’re just annoying me.”
“Your core’s scent has changed; there was different fluid in your underthings—”
“I told you to stop studying my underwear! It’s weird!”
“I can scent—”
“Stop scenting!” I snap.
He hisses in my face, making me rear back. “Don’t you fucking hiss at me!”
His tongue darts out, testing the air, and the perturbed look of momentary horror that crosses his face when I snatch the tip between my fingers almost makes me laugh. Almost. I kind of feel like I need to poop, but I’m scared to move. Scared to poop. I thought I was doing that before, and a baby tried to come out, had the poor thing right there in the wasting room, much to his dam’s displeasure. “Stop scenting me,” I warn as he jerks his tongue back, glaring at me.
“Do not grab my tongue,female,” he hisses as he resumes his pacing.
“Do not scent me,female,” I mock.
His scowl deepens, clearly affronted.
Another deep-seated pain builds in my lower back. Another round ofis this a contraction or poop. About a zentic later, when I work myself to a stand, I can’t hide the next one, taking in a sudden sharp breath as I brace myself on the cave wall. Zyros is on me in a second. “Sssaryth?”
I breathe through it, squeezing my eyes shut. “Okay, okay.Oof. I need to tell you something, but you have to be cool about it. Okay?”
Unscrewing my eyes, I stare at the large male as he nods.
“I’m in labor. My contractions are speeding up, but we’ve still got a while to go,I think.”
I watch as his eyes widen almost comically, my heart melting as he immediately drops to my stomach, pressing a handful of sweetlip touchesthere, murmuring prayers I still don’t know the words to under his breath.
Zyros was, in fact, not cool about it.
I groan into my arm, curling my toes as I float in the spring. One of the little dudes is tucked close to me. The rest of them are now oddly silent. “No, I need to get outnow.”
I let out a couple of puff breaths as Zyros helps me from the purple-tinged water, where I’ve been systematically getting in and out of randomly for the past few zentics. Zyros has, for the most part, busied himself getting some crystal paints ready. I’m too uncomfortable to ask or even care why at the moment, only as long as he stops looming over me, his scales paler than I’ve ever seen them. For the first time since this started, a tendril of worry slips into my chest. Just a small seed of anxiety as another spine snapping contraction rips through me. I double over onto my knees, groaning through it before I press my head to the cool cave floor, panting. I’ve labored down for zentics now, my contractions going from close together to spread out again andagain, but for the last span…it’s beenclose. My rule of thumb has been it’s go time when I can’t talk through them anymore.
We’re there.
We’ve been fucking there.
As soon as I told him I was in labor, my mate has been a whirlwind of frenzied activity, readying my birthing pallet, outside under the moon. Whatever goddess phase, as he calls them, it’s in seems to please him, edging away a small bit of his worry, but only barely.
