Baby System: I'm the Beast World's Only Hope!-Chapter 126: Episode : A Heartbreaking Nightmare

"Too?" Roxy raised an eyebrow but brushed it off. "They can never take me, I can’t even leave, honey. Is Z, Kae, and Rian a joke to you?"

She collectively pointed at them, and they all raised their chin in pride.

Girl, you are the problem; they could kill you when they are not around.

Syris, sighed, knowing he couldn’t change her mind. "Can you please just stay with me? I am cold." He whined, and that hit Roxy straight in the heart, so she had no choice.

"Okay... I will be here with you." She climbed into the warm but sturdy bed built into him, and he coiled himself into her arms, despite his wounds.

Roxy had given him first aid either way, so now his body was helping itself heal.

The other three Alpha males stood there looking out of place, well, until Roxy snapped her gaze to them and waved for them to leave. She practically shooed them away.

Right when Torian was about to leave after Kaelen, Roxy stopped him.

"Rian?" She called for him, and the big guy turned immediately, facing her with expectations. "Can you bring in some ice cream for Syris?"

She watched as his face fell, and then she quickly added. "Please... baby?" She forced a half smile, but his face didn’t budge.

She sighed, "Alright, come here."

He obeyed, and she grabbed his arm and pulled him, crashing her lips against his in a soft, chaste kiss that made the big-headed tiger king’s eyes turn to slits.

His tail sprang out immediately and flicked side to side in excitement.

Roxy wants me?!

When Roxy withdrew, her eyes a little hazy, she whispered in a soft, silvery tone. "Can you get me ice cream, Rian~"

"YES. ANYTHING YOU WANT."

Like a robot, the tiger king stood up and marched out of the sunroom. Roxy giggled and turned to face Syris, who was watching her. She pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Don’t tell me you want a kiss too?"

His cheeks flushed pink, and he quickly glanced away. In a small voice, he hissed, "If you want to."

Roxy giggled.

"You are unbearable," Roxy murmured, leaning in as she captured his lips.

It started soft, a gentle reassurance that she was there and not going anywhere. But Syris, even with a hole in his tail and his blood dangerously low, was still a Basilisk.

The moment their lips touched, his instincts took over.

He groaned and surged upward. His hand, which had been resting weakly on the sheet, flew up to grip the back of her head, tangling in her hair. He deepened the kiss instantly, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with a desperate hunger.

Roxy melted into him.

Maybe it was because of the child in her stomach, but she needed the contact.

She opened her mouth to him, letting him devour her. For a moment, it was just the two of them, bound by the terrifying realization of how close they had come to losing each other.

Syris’s hand slid down her back, pressing her hips closer to the edge of the cot. The kiss grew heavier. He strained against gravity, trying to pull her body flush against his.

"Sy," Roxy gasped against his mouth, pulling back just an inch to breathe.

"More," he rasped, his eyes dark with pain and desire. "I need... I need to feel you."

He tried to pull her to lie back in bed with him, his hand reaching for the hem of the oversized shirt she wore. But the movement jarred his lower half. A spasm of agony ripped through him, traveling up his spine.

"Hhh-ngh!" Syris hissed through his teeth, his body going rigid. His face twisted, fresh sweat breaking out on his brow instantly.

"Stop," Roxy said firmly, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him gently back onto the pillows. "You have a hole in your tail, Syris. You are not ravishing anyone tonight."

"I can manage," Syris wheezed, though his knuckles were white from gripping the sheets. "I have... high pain tolerance."

"You passed out ten minutes ago," Roxy reminded him softly. She brushed the hair back from his forehead, her touch lingering. "Just rest. Please. For me."

Syris slumped back, defeated by his own feelings for Roxy. He looked at her with a pout that was ridiculously childish for a 350-year-old apex predator.

"Fine," he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest carefully. "But you must hold me. If I cannot be inside you, I must be around you."

"I will," Roxy promised.

She laid down with him carefully, mindful of his injured tail, which was propped up on pillows, and settled beside him. She pulled his head onto her chest, letting him listen to her heartbeat.

The door creaked open. Torian stepped in calmly.

The Tiger King was holding a fresh bowl of vanilla ice cream that he had clearly just re-churned. He had watched the tail end of the kiss from the doorway. His ears were flattened against his head, and his tail flicked agitatedly behind him.

"So," Torian said, his voice stiff. "The invalid lives."

Roxy looked up, keeping one hand stroking Syris’s hair. "He’s stable, Torian."

Torian walked into the room, setting the bowl of ice cream on the small table with a little more force than necessary. The spoon rattled against the ceramic. He looked at Syris, who was practically purring with his face buried in Roxy’s cleavage, and then he looked at Roxy.

The jealousy was radiating off him in waves hot enough to melt the ice cream again.

"You were going to leave," Torian accused quietly. "You were going to march into the swamp."

"I was angry," Roxy admitted.

"And now you are here," Torian continued, gesturing to the bed. "Cuddling the snake who caused the mess. While I am standing here, unmated and unkissed."

Roxy rolled her eyes. When did the Tiger King turn out to be such a drama queen?

Or was he trying to be like Syris?

He looked so dejected, so utterly unappreciated, that Roxy felt a massive pang of guilt. Torian had worked hard. And now he was watching her lavish affection on the mate she had spent 5 days with again.

"Torian," Roxy said softly.

The Tiger looked at her, his blue eyes shimmering with hurt.

"Come here," she beckoned.

Torian hesitated, then stepped closer to the bed. Roxy reached out with her free hand, the one not holding Syris, and grabbed his silk sleeve.

"Thank you," she said, looking him in the eye. "I know I haven’t been fair to you lately."

Torian sniffed, trying to maintain his dignity. "A King does what is necessary."

"I know," Roxy smiled tiredly. "And I promise you this: As soon as Syris is healed... as soon as he can walk without bleeding... I am all yours."

Torian’s ears perked up. "All mine?"

"I will clear my schedule," Roxy vowed. "I will give the kids to Kaelen. I will banish Zarek to the mountains to count rocks. Just you and me. For as long as you want. I will make it up to you, Rian."

Torian looked at Syris, then back at Roxy. He did the math. A few days of healing in exchange for dedicated, uninterrupted time with the Luna?

"Do you swear it?" Torian asked, narrowing his eyes.

"On the System," Roxy promised.

Torian let out a long breath. He doesn’t know what system she talked about, but his shoulders dropped. A small, triumphant smile touched his lips.

He glanced at the ice cream. "Eat. It will help the baby."

With a final, superior glance at the injured Basilisk, who opened one green eye to glare at him, Torian turned and marched out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

The night settled in, heavy and quiet.

Everyone was asleep, except the two couples in the sunroom. It was warm, dim, and smelled faintly of the vanilla that still lingered on Roxy’s skin.

Syris, despite his blood loss, was surprisingly still awake.

The injury had stripped away the little dignity he had left, leaving behind something raw and needy. He was clingy. He refused to let Roxy move an inch. If she shifted to adjust a pillow, he would make a small, distressed noise in his throat until she settled back down.

"You are a big baby," Roxy whispered fondly, running her fingers down his arm.

"I am wounded," Syris defended sleepily, nuzzling into her neck. "I require comfort.."

He shifted his hand, sliding it under her robes until his cool, long fingers rested on her bare stomach.

There was no bump, but Syris touched it with respect. His claws were retracted, his touch feather-light.

"He is quiet tonight," Syris murmured, tracing circles around her navel. "Probably sleeping and gathering strength."

To torture me later.

"Or she," Roxy corrected gently.

"No," Syris said confidently, his eyes half-closed. "A son. I can feel the resonance. He will be strong, Roxy. He will not be a runt. He will never be a runt."

Roxy’s heart ached, but she didn’t say anything; she just gave his hair a gentle stroke.

He tapped his finger gently against her skin.

"I cannot wait for him to start kicking," Syris whispered, a dreamy smile on his lips. "To feel the life thrashing inside you. It is the proof of our bond. To see your belly move like the ocean."

Roxy flinched internally.

She remembered the triplets. Wolf pups were active. They had bruised her ribs from the inside out. They had kicked her bladder until she thought she would explode. But a Basilisk?

I am not looking forward to that, she thought grimly, staring at the ceiling. I barely survived three. This one feels different. Heavier. Like carrying a stone.

"Yeah," she lied softly, kissing the top of his head. "Can’t wait."

Syris hummed, content. He kept his hand there, soaking up the warmth of the life they had created. Slowly, the rhythm of his breathing changed.

Roxy lay awake for a while longer, listening to the wind howl outside the glass walls. She watched Syris sleep, watched the way his chest rose and fell.

She felt safe here. She felt loved.

Her eyelids grew heavy. The warmth of the room wrapped around her like a blanket, pulling her down into the dark.

****

The next second, when she woke up, she found herself standing before her mum.

The Iron-Wood cabin was gone. The forest was gone. Roxy was standing in a hallway she hadn’t seen in years, but knew down to the smallest crack in the plaster.

The floor was cold linoleum. The lightbulb overhead flickered with a sickly yellow buzz.

She looked down at herself. She wasn’t the Luna. She wasn’t pregnant. She wasn’t the powerful woman with the System. She was small, maybe seven or eight years old. She was wearing a dirty pink t-shirt and jeans that were too short for her legs.

"Do you know how hard it is?" her mother hissed. "To feed you? To clothe you? To look at you every day and remember that my life ended the moment yours began?"

Roxy shook her head, crying silently. "I’m sorry, Mommy. I’ll be good."

"You can’t be good," her mother whispered. "Because you’re you."

She reached out and snatched the report card. She crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the trash can with the coffee grounds.

"Go to your room," her mother commanded.

Roxy turned to run, her heart breaking in her small chest. But before she reached the doorway, her mother’s voice stopped her. It was quiet, venomous, and final.

"I wish you had never been born."