by Dixon, Ruby
Laina looks over at her sister’s dummy and then attacks it, too. “I’ll help!”
“Girls,” Nassakth says patiently. “You know your lessons. Stay focused—”
But Laina—always the follower to Elkha’s aggressive leader—lets out the cutest little feline snarl and pounces on her sister’s dummy. “Mean! Mean!”
Elkha shrieks with delight and flings herself onto her sister, adding to the dogpile.
My poor mate just rubs his forehead and sighs.
“Enough of that,” I call out, doing my best not to laugh at them. “It’s breakfast time.” I stride over to the corner and scoop up Keth, my sweet son. He shares none of his sisters’ warlike attitudes, for all that he looks the most like his father. Instead, my third-born child is all smiles and light and loves nothing more than drawing…or hugging animals. He smiles up at me with the most gorgeous miniature version of Nassakth’s smile and I wonder for the millionth time how any parent could sell their child into slavery. “I made everyone their favorite breakfast and if you don’t come in the kitchen right now, Mommy’s going to eat all of it!”
The girls squeal and race past my legs, heading for the table. Keth puts his arms around my neck and holds onto me, hugging my torso as Nassakth comes to my side.
“Lessons going well?” I ask my mate, trying not to laugh.
“They have the attention span of a grain-fly,” Nassakth grumbles, pressing a kiss to my forehead as he pulls me close.
“They’re three,” I point out, smiling. “Of course they’re not paying attention. They have all their lives to become warriors. If they want to play, let them play.”
My mate just mutters something under his breath about how fighting IS fun, and I heft my heavy son on my hip and follow the girls into the kitchen, where we sit at the table and eat breakfast together, like we always do.
As I watch my family eat, my heart surges with affection. I watch as Nassakth leans over and helps Keth cut his pancakes, while the girls cover theirs in sticky syrup and then promptly eat them with their hands. They chatter at me about their training session, and when Laina trots over to her father and puts a syrupy hand in his tail, he calmly detangles her, smothers her with kisses, and then hauls her to the sink to wash her hands.
He’s such a good father. Endlessly patient with the little ones, Nassakth always finds time in the day to spend with them, no matter how busy things might be. Right now, the meat-stock are pregnant and giving birth, and the noli back on my farm were recently harvested, so there are a lot of shipments going out and small details to be handled. I normally try to help out where I can, but keeping up with three children and making sure the house isn’t an absolute disaster pretty much takes up my entire day.
Once three little sets of hands are washed, Nassakth glances over at me as I pick up the plates. “You did not eat.”
“I’m fine,” I promise him. “Just not that hungry this morning.”
His brows go down and he watches me suspiciously, then grabs Keth and swings him under his arm. “It is time for more lessons, cubs. Come with your father. I will show you how to operate the bots to make sure the meat-stock are fed.” Nassakth looks over at me and there is a wry look of understanding, a secret sharing between us. “We will leave your mother alone for a few hours.”
As he herds the rambunctious children out to the barn with him, I’m struck by how much I love him, all over again. It’s been almost four years since we got married, a little over three since the triplets arrived, and he still takes my breath away every day. He wants me to have some alone time to myself, imagining me tired or sick (or both) and so he’s taking on the children even though he’s got a million things to tend to.
He’s such a good man. And I know I’m emotional and hormonal, because my eyes fill with tears at the thought. I love him so much.
I clean the kitchen and put away the dishes, poking at the occasional bite of my food. My stomach is still unruly, so I give up on eating and sip some hot tea instead. I’m not about to squander a few quiet minutes to myself, though, and pull out my datapad. I write for a good hour or two on my latest book—a gladiator romance. My chapters have become fewer and further between now that raising three toddlers has taken over my life, but other women have taken up stories, too, and in-between we message each other with tips about babies and life in general. Our farms are so spread out that visits are not frequent, but I imagine that will change now that my children are getting older. Some of the other half-human children on the planet are, too, and that means there’s going to need to be a school of some kind. I’m not sure if the thought of alien kindergarten in a few years makes me excited or terrified. I know Lord va’Rin’s wife has a couple of children about the age of mine and has expressed interest in future playdates. It’s something I need to talk to Nassakth about and just haven’t yet. He’s very protective of the children and something tells me he’d want to be there through the entire playdate, scowling at everyone.
Then, because I can’t help myself, I log into Bethiah’s profile on the bounty hunting guild’s database.
She gave me the passcode to get in years ago, as long as I promised not to touch anything. Once I’m logged in, I cut and paste a particular set of symbols I have saved, and then look for updates on the bounty logs. It’s the same as ever—an old, outstanding bounty request for information on Nassakth—the same one his parents put in years ago. It’s still flagged with a little red symbol that Bethiah told me means the clients are unwilling to pay despite the amount offered. As such, the bounty’s pretty much dead in the water. She’s told me this a dozen times, but I still check it from time to time because I like to be certain. Satisfied that all is as it should be, I log back out, put my datapad away, and get to my feet.
The moment I do, Nassakth comes into the house with three crying children.
“Oh no. What happened?” I ask, picking Laina up as she runs toward me, arms outstretched. I hold her close and stroke her hair and Elkha clings to my legs, sobbing, so I touch her head, too. Keth holds tight to his father’s mane, his small face buried under Nassakth’s wealth of hair. “You guys didn’t get into the bull pen again, did you?” The last time they did, Nassakth grew furious with them, even though the proper alarms had gone off and the meat-stock bull had been re-routed to a safe pen automatically. It still frightened the over-protective father in my mate.
“Daddy wouldn’t let me hit the button!” Elkha wails.
“We have had this discussion before, cubs,” my mate says in a tight voice. “When Daddy tells you to do something, you do it. The barn is dangerous.”
All three just wail harder.
I fight back a smile. Something tells me that our impulsive little ones went into the barn and merrily hammered on buttons no matter what Daddy said, and Daddy finally had enough. “You know you have to listen to your father,” I say in a soothing voice, stroking Elkha’s hair as she sobs against my thigh. Laina’s grip is chokingly tight around my neck but I ignore it. “Have you all apologized to your Daddy? If you do, I’m sure he won’t be mad.”
Elkha—our little instigator—immediately flings herself against her father’s legs and weeps a tearful apology as only a three-year-old can. The other two babble something snot-filled and incoherent, and then Nassakth is given equally snot-filled kisses and all is well in the children’s world again. I wash faces and hands, make lunch, and then it’s time for the afternoon nap.
Naps are the best part of the day. It’s a few quiet hours in the daytime before the children wake up again. I tuck them into their bed, kissing all three heads before escaping the room. They have a round bed like myself and their father, each with their own special little blanket. Laina has yellow, Elkha a fiery red, and Keth a soothing green. When they were infants, we tried keeping them in three separate rooms, but it became too much work between feedings to scurry back and forth, so that didn’t last long. Now that they’re old enough to sleep in a bed, they don’t like to be separated. Ins
tead, like the praxiian part of them demands, they pile atop one another like kittens and snuggle. When they get older, we’ll get separate beds. For now, it helps them to sleep to cling to one another. I watch them doze for a moment and then go into my bedroom. There’s dishes to be done, and so much laundry that even the bots can’t keep up. The floors are sticky from breakfast—I don’t know how they managed to get syrup everywhere, but they did—and the whole house needs a good dusting. I’ve found that the bots handle a lot of the cleaning but some things just can’t be done electronically, and dusting is one of them.
The list of things I need to get done seems immense, but the moment I go into the cool silence of my bedroom and see Nassakth lying on his back on the bed, I crawl in next to him.
“They are utterly exhausting some days,” he tells me, pulling me against him.
“Most days,” I correct. “Most days.”
He grunts.
“It probably wouldn’t be so bad if it were just one, but three at once and…” I sigh, thinking of the news I have to share.
Nassakth rubs my shoulders. “I think I am too old for this. Did you see that the streak of silver hair by my ear has grown larger? I blame Elkha for that.”
“Oh please. You’re a praxiian in his prime.” I chuckle, running my fingers over his chest in a tired caress. “Did you see how gray I’m getting?”
“Nonsense. You are beautiful and young.”
“Sounds like you need your vision checked, old man.”
He hugs me closer, tucking me against his chest. At naptime, it’s nice to just collapse against one another and take a few moments of quiet. I want to get up and get a head start on the washing before the kids wake up, but I’m too tired to get out of bed.
I stroke my hand along Nassakth’s stomach. It’s rock hard, just as it ever was, and he jokes about getting old, but all I see is my incredibly handsome, impossibly perfect mate who should be touched all the time. “We have a few minutes to ourselves,” I murmur, sliding my hand between his thighs to stroke his cock. “Are you too tired to spend some quality time with your wife?”
“Never too tired for that,” he rumbles, a purr starting in his chest. He drags me forward, pulling me over him until I’m straddling his hips. He looks up at me with a sultry look of promise. “Which part of me do you want to mount today, my pretty Kim? My mouth? My cock?”
I lean forward, my breasts brushing against his chest. “I think—”
“Mommy?”
Laina. I glance over at our door, left open just a crack in case the kids need us. Sure enough, my daughter stands in the entryway, her thumb poised to return to her mouth. I slide off of Nassakth with an apologetic caress. There won’t be time for this now, it seems. Hopefully later, we’ll be able to spend some quality “alone” time together. I never thought I’d enjoy quick, furtive sex…but then I had triplets and learned to appreciate every damn moment. “What is it, honey? Mommy and Daddy are laying down for a nap.”
“I wet the bed again.” Her lip trembles and she stubbornly shoves her thumb into her mouth, blinking hard.
I fight back a cry of frustration, because it means more laundry, but there’s nothing to be done about it. I smile and pick up my wet daughter, patting her back. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Let’s get you cleaned up and fix up the bed, okay?”
“Are you mad?”
“Not at all,” I say soothingly, and any frustration I might have had disappears in an instant. “Let’s get you in clean clothes and get your brother and sister moved over to the bed in the guest room, all right? Then you can finish your nap and Mommy will take care of everything else.”
My daughter buries her face against my neck, purring like her father, and even though she smells like pee, I couldn’t love her more in this moment.
* * *
By the time dinner is finished and all the dishes put away, I’m exhausted. At night, we normally watch a vid together—something clean and appropriate for the children—or play Slapjack, a family favorite. Tonight, though, I’m too sleepy to do much more than smile gratefully at my mate as he puts on the children’s favorite vid and pulls me against his side. I curl up next to him on the oversized sofa as Elkha, Laina, and Keth promptly crawl all over us, draping themselves over their father (and me by extension) like kittens.
I stroke Elkha’s fluffy hair as pink space critters bounce around on asteroids, warbling songs, just enjoying the quiet time. It’s nights like this that are the best; quiet nights with family, just enjoying being together, my children on my lap and my mate at my side. I feel so content that my heart can’t hold all my happiness.
Nassakth’s comm unit buzzes.
He groans, getting to his feet and moving the children, then heads to the panel and studies the screen. Once he does, an even larger groan escapes him. “Bethiah.”
Now I groan.
“Auntie Bethiah!” Elkha cries, bounding to her feet.
“Auntie!” Laina calls, chasing after her sister. Keth trots after the girls, my quiet little son, and then all three children are bouncing around their father’s legs, wanting to join in the video call with the bounty hunter.
My mate exchanges a patient look with me and then connects the call. “Hello, Bethiah,” he says in a tolerant voice. “Why do you call?”
“Do I need a reason?” The bounty hunter’s face fills the screen and she makes kissy faces. “I wanted to see my namesakes. How are you, my lovelies?”
“Auntie! Auntie!” the children cry out, waving little hands at her.
“None of them are named after you,” I call out.
“Of course they are,” Bethiah coos. “You just did your best with your strange little human mouth. It’s all right. We know the truth of it, don’t we, kids?” She puts her chin on her hands and leans into the vid-screen. “Want Auntie Bethiah to tell you a story?”
Oh boy. I exchange a look with my mate. Bethiah loves the children, but she also has no idea how to treat them. Like the time the girls admired her tinkling hair ornaments and Bethiah gave the girls matching ones—and then later pointed out that they were tiny explosives because “a girl never knew when she might need a bomb.” Or the time she visited and read them a bedtime story that was so horrifying they didn’t sleep for days without crying.
I’m pretty sure that story is why Laina still pees the bed.
“No stories,” I call out. “It’s almost bedtime.”
“Right.” She shrugs. “Maybe you guys can tell me a story instead?”
For the next hour, Bethiah listens intently as all three children babble at her. She’s a weird one, the bounty hunter, but I do appreciate that she likes the children. It makes me feel good to know that even though I can’t stand Bethiah for longer than a few minutes at a time, she’s fiercely devoted to my babies and will keep them safe.
Having a bounty hunter as a godmother-slash-auntie is not something I ever thought I’d have for my children, but then again, so little of my life has turned out the way I thought it would. Even so, I wouldn’t change a thing.
When Keth yawns, Nassakth scoops up my son and cradles him against his chest. “I think it’s bedtime. Everyone say good night to Auntie Bethiah.”
The children wave and blow kisses at the screen, and Bethiah promises to call again after her next job wraps up. I don’t ask about the “job”—learned that the hard way—and shepherd the girls toward the bedroom. The blankets are freshly washed and there’s a thin plas-film covering on the mattress to protect from little accidents. We brush teeth, wash hands and faces, and sing a bedtime song. Even though blankets aren’t a praxiian thing, my babies love having one tucked around them, and we give each child kisses and attention before turning off the lights and escaping the room.
Into quiet.
Sweet, sweet quiet.
Nassakth wraps his arms around me from behind and holds me close. “How long before someone wants a drink of water?”
“Five minutes,” I murmur, putting my hands
on him. He’s warm and wonderful and strong and I still haven’t told him my secret. Now might be the perfect time, though. I take his hand and slide it down to my belly. “So—“
“Mommy? Daddy? I’m thirsty,” Keth calls out.
Nassakth presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I’ll handle that. You go collapse into bed and I’ll join you in a moment.”
I head into the bedroom as he goes to get the drink. I’m not thinking about collapsing into bed, actually. Instead, I’m thinking about the noli perfume that the girl renting my farm sent me. She’s made soaps and bath oils and all kinds of fragrances that have become very popular in praxiian circles. I’m happy for her—she can do whatever she wants with the plants. She always remembers to send us our cut and takes care of the place as if it were her own. I’ll probably sell it to her in a few years, just because I know how important it is to own your own land.
But for now, I head for that vial of perfume, sniff it, and then dab the tiniest amount behind my ears. I’m getting less tired by the minute. Instead, I’m thinking about sex. I’m thinking about grabbing my delicious husband by his tail—or his mane—and dragging him into the bed. Sex is harder to find time for with triplets, which means my libido is through the roof…especially with the new “surprise” in my belly. I just hope Nassakth doesn’t panic at the thought of being a father again.
I change into my sleep clothes as I ponder how a new, fourth baby is going to change things. Even though I have nightgowns, I prefer sleeping in one of Nassakth’s tunics. He prefers it, too, because it’s easy to reach into the collar and tease my breasts in the morning, since they tend to slip free of the fabric and “greet him.” Me in his tunic is code for “let’s have sex” and his eyes light up the moment he enters the bedroom and sees me on the bed.
“Everyone is settled in,” my mate tells me, his tail swishing as he strips off his tunic. “How tired are you?”
“Not very,” I whisper. “Shut the door.” And I spread my legs apart and touch myself between my thighs in a bold gesture to get his attention.
