Page 46 of Orange Tundra
SIM
Her sharp gaspcut through the quiet of the ruined dome, and my heart seized. Another wave of pain. Brynn’s hand trembled as she pressed it to her belly, her lips whitening at the edges. I’d been watching her too long, tracking every flinch, every catch of breath, memorizing the rhythm of her pain. There was a time for giving her space, and a time for ignoring the expectations of the camp. This was the latter.
I moved before anyone could stop me. My tail wrapped low around her hip, possessive, insistent. “Come with me,” I murmured, not caring who noticed, not caring if Nim frowned or if the others muttered about overprotective mates. She tried to protest—she always did, stubborn creature—but when another sharp pain flickered across her face, she surrendered, leaning into me.
I hustled her out of the main encampment, heart jackhammering as I scanned for any semblance of privacy. The White Tribe ruins were endless, all broken grandeur and haunted corridors, but finally, behind the collapsed torso of a stone giant, I found it. An alcove walled off by ancient, half-melted pillars. Safe enough.
She winced, bracing against the cold rock. I drew her down to sit, brushing grit off the only patch that wouldn’t threaten to slice her open. She sat, legs parted, breath heaving. Sweat glistened at her hairline. My gut twisted—gods, I hated how helpless I felt when she hurt.
My hands hovering uselessly near her swollen belly. Worry coiled tight in my gut, a cold counterpoint to the warmth radiating from her skin.
"It's alright, my heart," I murmured, trying to sound reassuring when I felt anything but. "Just breathe through it."
She managed a weak smile, leaning her head against my shoulder. Her scent, usually a soothing balm, was thick with an undercurrent of distress that frayed my nerves.
“You should lie down.” My voice was hoarse. She shook her head, swallowing.
“I just need a second. I—” She sucked in air. “It’s not stopping.”
I knelt, caging her between my thighs, my hands a frame around her body. I let my fingertips brush her temple, then her jaw, tracing the places I’d claimed and worshiped so many times. “Breathe for me,” I whispered, not trusting my voice to do more.
She managed a laugh—raw, but real. “Bossy.”
“Always.” I grinned, but it felt tight. Inside, I was unraveling. There was blood on my hands, but none of it mattered now. The only thing that mattered was this woman, and the life she was carrying. I had no idea how to fix what was happening inside her, but fuck me, I’d break the universe to try.
We spoke quietly for a few moments, hushed words about fear and the strangeness of it all. Then, almost casually, she dropped the kind of statement that makes a male re-evaluate his entire understanding of the universe.
"It's just... we don't even know how many are in there yet," she sighed, rubbing her stomach. "Could be one... could be triplets, for all we know."
Triplets?My ears flattened against my skull. My breath hitched. Triplets? Twins were the stuff of legends whispered about in hushed tones, a near-mythical occurrence spoken of maybe once a generation. Triplets were... well, they weren'tanything. They were biologically improbable, a statistical absurdity for Manasty physiology.
"Tri-triplets?" I stammered, my voice cracking embarrassingly. "Brynn, that's... that's not really..."
She looked up at me then, and the exhaustion in her eyes was momentarily replaced by a spark of pure, unadulterated mischief. Acheekyglint that I was learning usually preceded some kind of perspective-shattering revelation from her bizarre homeworld.
"Oh, Sim," she said, patting my chest with unnerving calm. "Humans can carry more than that. There have been cases of nine."
Nine.
The word echoed in the sudden, cavernous silence of my mind. N-I-N-E. My vision swam. The crumbling wall behind Brynn seemed to waver. Did she mean...nine? Atonce? My tail, which had been trying to curl reassuringly around her leg, went ramrod straight and stiffened like a petrified tree branch, entirely of its own volition.
Were humans some kind of... ofincubation species? Did they just...fill up? Did theyhatch? Images flashed through my mind: Brynn, impossibly round, surrounded by nine mewling infants. Our shared sleeping space suddenly resembling a crowded nesting den. Would we need nine bassinets? Nine sets of everything? Was I going to need a bigger dome?Ninedomes?The logistics alone were staggering, the sheer biological impossibility of it short-circuiting my brain.
I must have swayed, because Brynn’s small hand suddenly gripped my arm tightly. "Sim? Hey, breathe! It's incredibly rare! Like, world-record rare. I'm just saying it'spossible. Probably not happening tome."
I gulped, trying to force air back into my lungs. The world slowly stopped tilting. Nine. The cosmic absurdity of it lingered. Suddenly, the idea ofjusttriplets seemed positively mundane, almost disappointingly manageable. Gods above, what had I gotten myself into with this tiny, terrifyingly fertile human female? The thought alone was enough to make me feel faint all over again.
She tried for levity.“At least it’s not nine. Humans can have that, you know. Nonuplets. Imagine your tails dealing with nine babies.”
I snorted despite myself. “I’d rather face a charging rakkor bare-handed.”
She grinned, brave and reckless and so fucking beautiful it hurt. “Maybe next time.”
“Next time I’m sedating you,” I muttered, only half joking. But the relief in her laugh loosened something in me. “If it is three…” I trailed off, unable to finish. The idea scared me, made me want to curl around her, bite the world, tear apart anything that threatened her or the children.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she said softly. “Everything’s happening so fast. My body—” Her voice broke, and I caught her hand, squeezing hard.
“You don’t have to do anything alone.” My words were a growl, desperate and raw. “You’re not alone, Brynn. Never.”
