Pregnancy, I discovered very quickly again, is not a quiet, dignified experience. No, no, no. Pregnancy—especially when you are a male omega magically bonded to nine princes—is a chaotic disaster that drags everyone into its nonsense whether they like it or not. I woke up that morning with a strange feeling in my stomach, the kind that made you think something important was happening inside your body, something delicate and mysterious, and then that delicate mystery immediately demanded glowing moss for breakfast.
Yes. Glowing moss.
Chile....
"Why am I craving moss?" I asked out loud while standing in the middle of the royal garden like a confused goat.
Finn, who had apparently followed me out here because he had developed a habit of monitoring my movements like an anxious nurse, blinked slowly. "You… want to eat the moss?"
