Page 74 of Where the Current Takes Him
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The first few weeks of his Omega’s pregnancy felt like a fever dream. Beau’s stomach remained flat, and each timeLoriun remembered his nymph was in there, it sent a thrill of excitement through his blood.
Beau was supremely unimpressed by his inability to use the brand new bar in the upstairs room, and had taken to making irritable mocktails each evening.
“I can’t even makeyoua drink,” he grumbled, pouring a shot of pomegranate syrup into a shaker. “Because you’ll die or something.”
Disgust crossed Loriun’s features. “I wouldn’t die, but we Mer don’t enjoy recreational poisonings. Although,” he added, eying a flat bottle filled with amber liquid near the top of a shelf, “I might die if you give me that.”
Beau glanced at it. “I would never waste my Old Taylor whisky on someone as ungrateful as you.”
Loriun snorted. “That is just old poison.”
“Yeah, old poison from theprohibition era. Do you have any idea how valuable that stuff is?”
“Yes. I bought it.”
“Oh. Right.”
Ice rattled in Beau’s shaker, its non alcoholic contents sloshing in his grip. Loriun propped his elbows on the bar counter, admiring the way his mate’s lean muscles flexed under his soft skin.
The Omega paused. “You see something you like?”
Loriun tilted his head. “Of course.”
Beau laughed. “You need to hang out with Vuos more, so you’ll understand when I make a joke.”
Red liquid splashed into a pair of wide, flat cups on tall stems. Martinelli glasses, or something like that.
“Here,” Beau said, handing one over. “I guess the upside of drinking mocktails is that we can drink them together.” He clinked his glass with Loriun’s, and took a sip.
Loriun tasted the beverage with caution. Over the past few weeks, he’d learned the hard way that his and Beau’s taste buds did not always align.
Tart juice and pleasant bubbles seemed to light his mouth. “Oh, I actually enjoy—”
Beau slapped a hand to his mouth and shot out of the room.
Loriun lurched upright. “Beau?”
He heard the bathroom door slam from inside the adjacent bedroom, then the sound of his Omega being violently ill.
“Turys’asi bua,”he swore, thundering downstairs. He’d read the pamphlets and the Alpha preparedness booklet, yet he did not feel even slightly prepared. He slapped the lever on the electric kettle, then dug into a cabinet. Little ginger candies rained down on him, and he collected as many into his pockets as he could.
Shaking hands seized a large mug and a sachet of peppermint tea. Behind him, the roaring kettle clicked off, and he filled the mug with boiling water. A drop of steaming tea sloshed over the rim as he made his way back up the stairs.
Loriun emitted an undignified yelp at the burn on his wrist.
“Loriun?” a weak voice called. “Are you okay?”
“AmIokay?” he yelled back, outraged. “I should be askingyouthat. I’m coming in there.”
“Wait—”
The door struck the stopper with a thud. Beau was slumped across the toilet, looking sweaty and pale.
“I have peppermint tea,” Loriun announced. “And ginger candy.”
Beau groaned. “I thought morning sickness was supposed to happen in the morning.”
