Chapter 205: Nesting
"We’re going to the nearest high-end settlement ruins," Ash shouted, his wires already spinning as he swung toward a northern ridge. "I’m getting the softest blankets in this godforsaken country. Silk, wool, I don’t care! She’s not sleeping on stone!"
"I’m raiding the valley bunkers," Shadow rumbled, his grizzly form a blur of menace. "I’ll hunt down every last sealed ration of fruit and sweets in the state. She needs food. If she craves a certain snack, I’ll scour the whole coast to get it!"
"Clothes!" another yelled. "She needs fresh ones! Warm ones! She’s definitely freezing up there!"
They vanished into the treeline like a pack of frantic, harried attendants, driven by the singular goal of ensuring their goddess’s comfort.
Back on the cliffside, the remaining husbands of the inner circle looked up at the Jackal’s Nest. The air around them was no longer just a war zone; it was a sanctuary in the making.
"She’s pregnant," Exile murmured, a dark, possessive grin spreading across his face as his tongue flicked out, tasting the air for the scent of the new life he was sure was there. "The Jackal doesn’t just die now. He dies for touching a mother."
Victor didn’t wait any longer. With a snap of his wings that shattered the nearby stone, he surged toward the spatial fold.
"Five minutes," Victor promised, his voice a golden vow. "And then she never spends another second in the cold."
Inside the cave, Felicity slept on the edge of the cliff, her small body curled tight, completely unaware that half her pack was currently raiding the ruins of New South Wales for dried mangoes and silk blankets, while the other half was coming to turn her captor into a memory.
Victor’s wings beat a frantic rhythm against the thinning mountain air. Inside his personal sub-dimension, a space typically reserved for tactical storage, a dedicated sector had begun to shift months ago. It was a nursery, soft-edged, filled with sunlight that didn’t burn, and a playground that seemed over-engineered for the two silver fox cubs they’d rescued. He’d told himself it was just for Luna and Frost.
But as the word pregnant echoed in his mind, the realisation hit him like a physical blow. He was Level 100. He was an apex predator. He had claimed her, and so had the others. The nursery wasn’t just a charitable addition; his own instincts had been preparing for this before his conscious mind even caught up. His cubs. Their cubs. Were they okay? Had the spatial jumps or the stress of the kidnapping hurt the tiny lives flickering inside her? The thought made his blood run cold.
The sky tore open as the group hit the spatial veil. Lucan didn’t just breach it; he reached into the fabric of the distortion and deleted it, unravelling Wanderer’s hard work like a loose thread.
There she was.
The sight of her stopped their hearts. Felicity was curled into a ball on the frozen dirt, her white silk dress stained with mountain grime, her tail wrapped tightly around her shivering frame. She looked so small against the vast, uncaring rock.
The silence that followed was deafening. The men were shaking, barely holding back from rushing forward. Voss stepped forward without hesitation; moving with the steady, unstoppable grace of a mountain, he knelt down, slid his arms beneath her, and lifted her in one careful movement. She felt far too light in his massive arms.
He turned back to the group, his amber eyes glowing with a protective fire. "I’m taking her to her space," he rumbled, his voice thick. He looked at the husbands, the snakes, the lion, the eagle—all of them vibrating with the need to kill.
"You guys... deal with that." He tilted his head toward the sleeping Wanderer. "You should probably interrogate him instead of deleting him."
"We will see," Victor growled, a dark, jagged sound that promised nothing but pain.
Exile and Damien didn’t even look at the Jackal. Their eyes were locked on Felicity as they followed Voss into the portal leading to her personal dimension. Ivan, Victor, and Lucan stayed behind. They stood over the sleeping Wanderer like four gods of death. The Jackal’s time limit had just reached zero.
Inside the sanctuary of her space, the air was warm and smelled of blooming jasmine. As Voss carried her, Felicity’s subconscious took over. Even in her sleep, she recognised the scent of the wolf. She turned her face into his chest, rubbing her cheek against his tactical gear and wagging her tail in a slow, rhythmic greeting.
Voss let out a deep, melodic chuff, a sound of pure, possessive happiness that vibrated through his ribs. He carried her straight to the hot springs.
"Damien, Exile," Voss commanded softly. "Soup. Bland. No heavy spices. Get a heat pack and prep her room. Fresh silk, the softest we have."
The two snake beastmen exchanged a glance, then disappeared, each immediately heading off in opposite directions to gather supplies. They began gathering items, already mentally listing what would make the room a perfect nest.
Voss knelt by the steaming water, his large, calloused hands surprisingly gentle as he undressed her and eased her into the mineral-rich spring. He held a cup of cool mint and lemon water to her lips.
Felicity’s eyes fluttered open. The steam blurred her vision at first, but then she saw the amber eyes watching her with a terrifying, beautiful obsession.
"Voss! Oh my god... Am I back? I’m in my space?" Her voice was weak but rising with excitement. She clutched his forearm, her blue eyes searching his. "Oh my god, it... I did well, didn’t I? I tricked him! Are you proud?"
Voss took a ragged breath, heart aching at her search for approval. "You scared us, little one. Not your fault, but it was dangerous," he rumbled. "He could have killed you."
"But he didn’t!" she chirped, a flash of her old spirit returning. "So... I did well? Right? Ahh, I missed you!"
She splashed out of the water, throwing her wet arms around his neck and hugging him with everything she had left.
Voss groaned, pulling her flush against his chest, his nose burying in the crook of her neck. He chuffed again, the sound a physical manifestation of his relief.
Then, Felicity’s face went pale.
"Oh gods," she gasped, her grip tightening. She leaned over the side of the stone spring and vomited again, her body racking with a sudden, violent nausea. "Voss... I don’t know what’s up. I feel so sick... the world’s spinning. Save meee..."
Voss held her hair back, his heart hammering. He looked at her pale face and then down at her stomach, his hand resting gently on her lower back.
"I’ve got you," he whispered, his voice steady even though his mind was racing. "
The world isn’t spinning, little one. It’s just growing."