I SOMEHOW ENDED UP WITH A HAREM FULL OF BEAST MEN

The morning sun filtered through the canopy in dappled gold, casting patterns across the wooden floor of our new home. We had settled in over the past few days, each of us finding our rhythm in this space Aurin had given us. He had placed Eryx in a home a few houses away, close enough that Veylan could find him if he chose, far enough that my wolf did not feel crowded in his own sanctuary.

I rose early, my body still carrying the subtle warmth of Soryn’s eggs within me and stepped outside to explore our surroundings properly. The jungle hummed with life, birds calling to one another in melodies I was only beginning to recognize. I wandered down a narrow path, letting my feet carry me where they would, enjoying the simple pleasure of walking without fear of attack.

Then I saw them.

Cotton trees.

I stopped walking so abruptly that I nearly stumbled. There they stood, tall and proud, their branches heavy with fluffy white bolls that caught the sunlight like captured clouds. My heart leaped in my chest. Cotton. Real cotton. I could make soft clothes, bedding that did not scratch, wraps for the babies that would be gentle against their skin.

I quickly walked back to the house, my earlier fatigue forgotten, and gathered baskets, tools, anything I could find. I had barely taken three steps toward the cotton trees when Ravin appeared beside me, his hand closing around my wrist with gentle but firm pressure.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his amber eyes scanning my face with that irritatingly assessing gaze.

"I am going to harvest cotton," I said, trying to pull free. "So we can have soft bedding."

"You should rest."

"I have been resting. I rested yesterday. I rested the day before. I am tired of resting."

"Krys."

"Ravin."

He sighed, the sound long suffering, then took the basket from my hand. "I will carry it. You can point."

"I do not need you to carry it. It is empty."

"Then I will fill it. You can supervise."

"I do not want to supervise. I want to harvest."

He ignored me, walking ahead with long strides that I could not match without jogging. By the time I reached the cotton trees, breathless and annoyed, I found Leon already there, his massive arms full of the fluffy white bolls he had apparently stripped from the lower branches.

"Look what I found," he said proudly, his black eyes gleaming. "Soft stuff. For the nest."

"I was going to harvest that," I said, my voice tight with frustration.

"You are welcome," he said, clearly missing my point entirely.

I opened my mouth to explain that gratitude was not the issue when Caelion emerged from the trees, his arms laden with reeds and grasses he had gathered from the stream. "For stuffing," he announced, his blue eyes bright with helpfulness. "I thought the nest needed more cushioning."

"The nest is fine," I said, though my resolve was weakening. "I was going to get reeds too."

"Now you do not have to," he said simply, as if this solved everything.

I turned to Soryn, who had slithered up silently behind me, his tail carrying a bundle of dried bark and herbs. "Please tell me you are not going to start doing my tasks for me too."

He looked offended, his scales rippling. "I would never. I was merely going to suggest that you sit while I finish gathering. The sun is warm. You could rest."

"I do not want to rest," I said, my voice rising to what I recognized as a whine but could not stop. "I want to do something. Anything. I want to feel useful."

Aureon appeared then, his arms full of fruit he had clearly been picking from his mother’s trees rather than harvesting cotton, but the principle remained the same. "I brought snacks," he said cheerfully, then noticed my expression. "Why does she look like she wants to throw something?"

"Because she wants to work and we will not let her," Veylan said from his perch on a nearby rock, his voice dry but his eyes amused.

"Exactly," I said, pointing at him. "See? He understands."

"I understand," Veylan said, "but I also agree with them. You are carrying Soryn’s clutch. Our babies. You should not be straining yourself."

I looked around at them, at my six mates who had formed a protective circle around me without me noticing, each one holding something they had gathered, each one looking at me with identical expressions of loving concern and stubborn determination.

"I hate all of you," I announced, though my lips were twitching.

"We know," Ravin said, his mouth curving in a smile he tried to hide.

"Completely hate you."

"Understood."

"Utterly and completely."

"Of course."

I sighed, the fight draining out of me, and allowed Leon to guide me to a soft patch of grass. "Fine. I will sit here and supervise like an invalid."

"You are not an invalid," Soryn said quickly, settling beside me, his tail wrapping around my ankle. "You are precious."

"I am annoyed."

"That too," he agreed.

They worked around me then, gathering cotton with efficient movements, bringing me samples to inspect, asking my opinion on which reeds were softest, which grasses made better stuffing. They let me direct, let me choose, and make me feel as though I were contributing even as they did all the labor.

It was infuriating. It was sweet. It was the most annoying display of love I had ever experienced.

And when Aureon handed me a perfectly ripe mango, peeled and ready to eat, I decided I could tolerate being coddled for a little while longer.

By midday, the house had settled into its usual rhythm. The older cubs played in the field beyond the stream, their shrieks of joy carrying on the humid air. Caelion and Leon watched them with careful eyes, wading into the water when the heat became too much, allowing the children to climb on their backs and pretend they were great sea monsters. Veylan sat beneath his favorite tree, ostensibly resting his injuries, but I noticed his gaze never left the playing cubs for more than a moment. He was healing, slowly, finding peace in the simple act of watching life continue around him.

Aureon had gone to visit his mother and siblings, carrying a bundle of the sweet fruit I had found near the eastern path. I watched him go with a full heart, loving how he doted on his parents, how his face lit up when he held his baby brother and sister. He was a good son. A good brother. Seeing him embrace that role made me love him more, made me grateful that he had this chance to reconnect with his family before our own new arrivals came.

Inside the house, Soryn worked on his nest with single-minded focus. He had expanded it twice already, adding layers of softness, arranging heated stones just so, hanging herbs to purify the air. Ravin had surprised us both by staying to help, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he wove reeds into baskets for the eggs, as he positioned furs in patterns that would retain warmth. The two of them worked in companionable silence, united in their need to prepare.

I sat in the main room, sorting my cotton harvest, planning the clothes I would make when the first pain hit.

It was not like the births I had known before. No gradual build, no warning cramps. One moment I was planning a dress for Levy, the next a band of pressure wrapped around my middle so tight I gasped. I dropped the cotton, my hands flying to my belly as the sensation intensified, sharp and insistent.

Then the second pain came, and I understood.

"Soryn," I called, my voice steady despite the sudden fear. "Ravin."

They came immediately, Soryn sliding through the doorway with serpent speed, Ravin close behind. They found me on my knees, breathing through the third wave, my forehead pressed against the cool wood of the floor.

"What is happening?" Soryn demanded, his voice cracking with panic.

"The eggs," I managed, gritting my teeth as another pain rolled through me. "They are coming. Now."

Ravin moved with efficient speed, snapping orders that belied his own worry. "Leon! Caelion! Take the children to the stream, keep them occupied!" He turned to me, his amber eyes fierce. "How long?"

"Now," I gasped. "They are coming now."

I heard the scramble as my other mates responded, heard Leon’s voice raised in false cheerfulness as he gathered the cubs, heard Caelion’s deeper rumble as he promised them a game. Veylan appeared in the doorway, his face pale, his body tense. "What can I do?"

"Keep them away," Ravin said firmly. "All of them. This is not for children’s eyes."

Veylan nodded, understanding immediately, and limped toward the field to help contain the chaos of curious cubs.

Soryn knelt beside me, his hands trembling as he supported my shoulders. "What do you need? What can I do?"

"Stay with me," I said, clutching his hand. "Just stay with me."

Ravin positioned himself at my other side, his presence solid and grounding. "Breathe," he instructed, his voice the same one he used in battle, calm and commanding. "Let your body do what it knows."

The pains came faster then, one after another in waves that left me breathless and sweating. I bore down when the urge became irresistible, my body working with an ancient knowledge that needed no instruction. Soryn held one hand, Ravin the other, both of them murmuring encouragement, both of them terrified and trying desperately not to show it.

Through the haze of effort, I heard the door open, heard Aureon’s cheerful voice cut off mid-sentence. "I brought more fruit from my mother’s garden, she said Krys would..."

He stopped. I heard the basket hit the floor, heard his footsteps stumble as he took in the scene.

"Is she... are you... what is happening?" His voice rose to a pitch I had never heard from him, cracking with panic.

"She is laying the eggs," Ravin said, his voice tight with patience he did not feel. "Aureon, either help or get out."

"I want to help!" Aureon rushed forward, his golden eyes wide with alarm, his hands fluttering uselessly. "What do I do? Tell me what to do! Should I get water? Should I get herbs? Should I... should I..."

He spun in a circle, looking more like a headless chicken than the fierce tiger I knew, his movements frantic and uncoordinated.

"Aureon," I managed between pains, touched despite my discomfort by his panic on my behalf.

"Yes? Yes? What do you need?" He dropped to his knees beside me, his face inches from mine, his expression desperate.

"Calm down," I whispered.

"I am calm!" he shouted, then immediately lowered his voice. "I am calm. I am very calm. Tell me how to help."

"Hold my hand," I said.

He grabbed my hand with both of his, squeezing so hard I winced. "Sorry! Sorry! Less hard? More hard? What do you need?"

"Just breathe," Ravin instructed him, his own composure fraying at the edges. "Breathe and let her focus."

Soryn was not faring much better. I could feel his hand shaking in mine, could see the tears streaming down his scaled cheeks, though his voice remained steady as he coached me through each push. "You are doing wonderfully," he kept saying, his voice breaking. "You are so strong. You are so brave. Please be okay. Please let them be okay."

"They are fine," I told him, though I was not entirely sure myself. "We are fine."

Then the pressure peaked, and I bore down with everything I had, my cry echoing through the room loud enough to make Aureon jump.

The first egg emerged, smooth and perfect, glistening in the afternoon light. Soryn caught it with trembling hands, his sob of relief audible to everyone. "One," he whispered, cradling it against his chest. "One is here."

I barely caught my breath before the next came, and the next, each one sliding into waiting hands, each one greeted with fresh tears from my serpent mate. Ravin counted them, his voice steady despite the wonder in his eyes. "Three. Four. Five."

By the sixth, I was exhausted, my body trembling, my vision blurred. Aureon held a damp cloth to my forehead, his panic subsided into quiet awe, his hands gentle now as he wiped sweat from my face. "You are amazing," he whispered. "You are the most amazing person I have ever seen."

The seventh and final egg came with a rush of relief so profound I nearly wept. Soryn held it, his arms full now, his face a mask of joy and terror and love so overwhelming he could not speak.

Seven eggs. Seven perfect, beautiful coilings, each one a promise of life to come, each one nestled safely in their father’s arms.

I collapsed back against the furs Ravin had arranged, my body empty and aching and utterly spent. Soryn crawled to me, arranging the eggs carefully beside me, touching each one with reverent fingers. Then, with infinite care, he began to mark them. He used what he had gathered from the forest around us, thin strips of bark from different trees, grasses of varying thickness, each tied in a distinct pattern around the shell so he would know them apart. The firstborn received a band of rough oak bark tied in a simple knot, the second smooth river reed woven in a twist, the third thick grass braided tight, each one different, each one remembered, until the seventh wore a delicate circlet of pale vine. He had prepared them days ago, he admitted, his ears flattening with embarrassment, wanting to know his children individually from the moment they entered the world. He touched each marked egg in turn, counting them softly, before finally taking my face in his hands.

"You did it," he whispered, his voice thick with tears. "You gave me... you gave us... seven. Seven, Krys. I cannot... I do not have words..."

He was crying openly now, smiling through his tears, his entire body shaking with the force of his emotions. He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my hands, murmuring gratitude and love and promises I could barely hear through my own exhaustion.

I looked at him, my face pale and drenched in sweat, my hair plastered to my skin, my body feeling like it had been turned inside out. I smiled, reaching up to touch his tear-stained face.

"Welcome to fatherhood, Soryn," I whispered, my voice rough but triumphant. "Your own clutch, my love. Seven of them."

He buried his face in my neck and wept with joy, his body curled around mine, his hands reaching to touch the eggs again and again, as if he could not believe they were real.

Through the window, I could hear the distant sounds of children playing, unaware that their family had grown by seven. I could hear Leon’s booming laugh, Caelion’s gentle rumble, Veylan’s softer voice calling them to order. And I could feel the warmth of my mates around me, the love that filled this room, the peace that had come with creating something beautiful despite everything we had faced. We were safe. We were home. And we were seven more than we had been this morning.