Page 21 of Pregnant With Their Babes

He cast a glance at Oz as Myra hurried off to refill more pints and quarts.

“Do we search for lodgings elsewhere? Just in case?” Dagr asked.

“Where?”

There were no other inns in the port town they deemed safe. They could, of course, go back to the ship and sleep there—but after many weeks spent onboard, that was the last thing he wanted to do. He doubted Oz did, either. Deep down he realized they both craved to share that bed upstairs with Llyr. Was fate forcing their hand?

Pitiful excuse. We can’t blame fate or the lack of free beds for our slip in moral fortitude.

“I know you wish otherwise, but we can return to my cabin for the night once we’ve eaten. The ship will be fairly quiet. Only a few men remained aboard to keep watch,” Oz murmured.

“What about Llyr?”

“Any other time and we’d likely welcome him into our bed. With all that lovely, pale skin and that long, lean body. He’s exactly the kind of man we’d take between us.”

“Please stop.” Dagr closed his eyes, lust slamming into him. “I meant—I thought we were giving him our decision tonight? Though, it’s not as if we’ve come to one.”

Oz eyed him, seeming has haggard as Dagr felt. “We have no idea what his intentions are.” He drained the last of his ale. “I hate this uncertainty. We can’t touch him, Dag… we truly can’t. And it’s killing me.”

“Me, too,” Dagr countered. “Perhaps that’s something we can do on the morrow. Find a white witch who might be able to tell us if we’ve been spellbound. Then we’d have our answer to that concern.”

“Good thinking,” Oz said. “Maybe we take the merman to her, too. Let her get a good look at him and see what she says. Maybe she can fix his head while she’s at it.”

“I’m sure there’s one close to town. There usually is.”

Oz lifted a hand to catch Myra’s attention once more. Once she turned toward him, he lifted his empty cup and she nodded.

“You might need to slow down and keep your wits about you,” Dagr murmured.

“My wits left a long time ago,” Oz muttered.

“You’ll struggle to find oblivion in the bottom of a tankard. And even if you did, it only causes problems of its own,” Dagr replied.

Oz focused on him. “The only oblivion I want is in your arms.” Oz grinned at him. “The more I drink, the easier I’ll be. No fights as to who dominates.”

Dagr chuckled. They both leaned toward dominance, and there was often a tug of war to see who would be the one to eventually surrender. “Hell… the fight’s half the fun.” A movement at the edge of the tavern caught his eye. He shifted his gaze and saw a new arrival in their midst. “Well, we might not have one problem much longer. Perhaps he decided to leave on his own.”

Oz’s head spun to stare in the direction Dagr was staring. “Bloody hell.”

4

Llyr slowly crept down the stairs into the tavern. Heads turned with each of his steps, the singing quieting. All eyes were on him… it was quite uncomfortable. Men whispered to others beside them … and the whispering grew to a humming murmur through the crowd. He was used to being an object of curiosity. When the castle was opened to guests and he was commanded to stand at his father’s side—they would all come look their fill.

But there, he had his nobility to hide behind. Guards that would keep everyone at a distance. Now, he lacked that protective veneer.

He was all the more vulnerable.

“Please… continue singing. It sounded so joyful. It drew me downstairs,” Llyr said to those in the tavern.

Silence reigned a few more heartbeats. He quickly took a seat at the end of one of the long trestle tables, trying to make himself smaller. Trying to fit into the crowd and cause them to forget he was there. Thankfully, the singing started up soon after. Minute by minute, the volume rose until they were once again raucous and merry. Llyr smiled. He lost himself among their celebration, and that allowed him to watch them closely. Intimately. There was such comradery between the men of the ship, much like those who worked together at the palace.

He’d spied on the washer-merwomen and servants when they thought they were alone—and they would joke and laugh together. Their giggling had seemed so free yet Llyr had only experienced a powerful loneliness in those moments. He had one friend—but Ryland had grown distant after joining the castle guard. His brothers, both alphas being prepared to potentially lead their people, had little time left for him. Add in the fact they both blamed him for the death of their papa, and what time they did have was tense. The only person consistently in his life was his father’s spy, entrusted to prevent him from having any kind of adventures or friendships.

The whole castle is likely up in arms right now!

He smiled, pleased with that idea. Llyr turned his attentions back to the fun before him. The rowdy songs were sung by nearly every man in the room, and he wished he knew the words. There was such pleasure in their celebrating, and it did his heart good. Llyr clapped along with the beat of the music, trying to be a part of the fun.

Here, he was no cosseted prince. No one guarded him. He could have the familiarity of friendships.

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