My Beastly Fertility System Chapter 14: How Lucky

Hearing the subtle gossip from the females around them about her and Rufus, Claire shot him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry I dragged you into this."

Rufus waved it off, chin tilted high as he swept his gaze over every beastfolk whispering nearby until they all shut up.

"It's fine. I came down on my own to clear your name."

As soon as he finished, Rufus shifted into his massive gyrfalcon form; his wings spread wide, and just two powerful beats sent a gust of wind straight into Claire's face.

His huge feathered head turned toward her as he rumbled, "See you, Claire."

Claire lifted her hand and waved, watching him fly off.

Staring at those enormous wings, she felt a stab of pure envy.

Under her breath, she muttered, "Why'd I have to be a fox? Being a bird would've been so much cooler."

Deep down, flight was the one ability she wanted more than anything else.

Still, she wasn't really complaining; being reborn at all already felt like the biggest favor fate could've done her.

By evening, Zane returned to the clan; when he heard the others gossiping about what had happened during the day, he dropped his prey on the spot and sprinted toward their cave.

Claire happened to be walking out just then, a thick log in her hands as she kept her head down, scanning the ground.

Sensing something, she looked up right as Zane came barreling in; he'd raced back in beast form and shifted the second he reached her, brown eyes dark with worry.

"Are you okay? I just heard about what happened with Mona."

Zane checked her over from head to toe, only relaxing once he was sure there wasn't a single scratch on her.

Seeing how rattled he was over her, Claire's heart went warm and fizzy.

They'd only been bonded for one day, but she could already feel how careful Zane was with her—how kind he was in all the small ways.

She just hoped, someday, he'd fall for who she was now, not just the original Claire he used to know.

Pome screamed in her head like it was front row at a concert.

"Master, Zane grills meat like a chef and treats you like treasure. Who cares which version of you he loves? It's all you anyway! Don't sweat the details! Go again tonight, aim for ten or eight cubs by morning!"

Every time Pome opened its mouth, it was all pregnancy, all the time; Claire could only laugh helplessly.

Zane pulled her into his arms, one hand rubbing gentle circles on her back as he said,

"Claire ... maybe you should find another beast mate in the clan, too. I'm scared I won't be enough to keep you safe."

She heard the tiny note of jealousy buried in his tone and smiled, reassuring him.

"Not for now. Having you is plenty. Besides, I can protect myself these days—I'm not that pathetic, timid Claire anymore. Trust me, okay?"

"Yeah. I trust you."

Ever since he'd found her hanging off that cliff, half dead but still refusing to let go, the stubborn light in her eyes had shaken him to his core.

Anyone who'd brushed past death like that was bound to come back different.

Zane tightened his hold on her. Her waist was so thin his fingers nearly met, and he sighed inwardly—he was going to have to hunt more. His little fox needed to put on a few more pounds.

Her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

Claire's face flushed; she rubbed her belly and tilted her head up at him with a playful pout.

"I'm hungry."

"Got it. I'll grab the meat I hunted today—I left it with Clifford when I rushed back."

Moments later, Zane came back carrying a wild boar the size of a small cow over his shoulder.

He tossed the boar onto the open patch of ground in front of their cave, then walked over and took the log from her hands.

"What are you doing with this?"

She'd been gouging at it with a rock so long she was sweating through her fur tunic.

Claire ran her hand along the log, marking out the place she wanted cut.

"I want the middle hollowed out—kind of like this."

She was craving boiled meat for once; grilled was fine, but eating it every day dried her out and made her feel overheated—she needed a change.

Cooking in the Beast World was painfully basic—no seasonings, no pots or plates, just wrapping meat in leaves and throwing it straight into the fire.

Zane understood immediately; he beast-shifted his hands, claws flashing as he carved out the center of the log with a few swift swipes.

Claire looked at the rough wooden "pot" and lit up with a grin.

"Just wait. I'm making you something good."

She carried the wooden pot down to the creek that ran right through the middle of the clan grounds to rinse it clean.

Meanwhile, Zane made quick work of the boar, chopping it into neat chunks and stacking them in the shaded corner of the cave.

Claire picked out several thick ribs, dropped them into the water-filled wooden pot, and settled it over the fire to simmer.

Watching her bustle around, Zane felt a deep, steady warmth spread through his chest.

Females in the Beast World were insanely precious; most of them were spoiled from birth, never lifting a finger—especially once they had a mate, food just appeared in front of them.

Yet Claire was personally cooking for him.

How lucky could he get?

Zane watched the strange pot curiously; bubbles rolled to the surface as the ribs tumbled inside, and soon a rich, savory smell drifted out of it.

When Claire judged the ribs done, she used two sturdy sticks, one on each side, to lift the wooden pot off the fire.

"Not bad. If I had some scallions, ginger, garlic—and a few proper spices—this would be perfect."