Four Weeks Later.
“You’re pregnant,” Raidon tells me as I heave my guts up, his hands tangling in my hair. “Scarlet is barely four months old,” I retort.
“And you went into heat, we fucked you, and you’re knocked up,” Raidon chuckles. “That’s not a guarantee!”
“Isn’t it?” he laughs.
“We can’t have another right now. They’ll be the same age! Scar—” I heave, upturning my stomach again, my hands clutching the toilet bowl.
“Only for a few months,” he tells me unfazed by my retching yet Rhen I threw up in front of him the other day and he in turn threw up in the bathtub, his heaving made mine worse and we were like a synchronized dance, both of us unable to stop until we had nothing left.
Leon walked in on us both, laying on the cold tiles, feeling like death, then Thane got stuck cleaning up after the mess we made in the bathroom.
“Please don’t be pregnant, please be a stomach bug,” I whine. I didn’t want to be sick every day. Scarlet didn’t make me this sick. Our pregnancies were only 16