Page 111 of Echo and the Homicidal Sea Panda

“There’s the fight I’ve been waiting to see,” Mael whispered, brushing back a few strands of hair from Echo’s face. “There’s nothing we can’t do together, baby.”

Echo eyed the front door and the knob hanging from a thin piece of wood shrapnel. “Regardless of what my dad is doing, I don’t want to be here tonight. I don’t feel safe.”

“Let’s go get dressed. While you toss some necessities into a bag, I’ll call Havoc.”

Echo nodded. “Okay.”

Mael jerked the metal cuffs off his wrists and offered a hand.

They strode upstairs together.

Ready to wage war if they had to.

24

The boat rocked softly as Mael rolled over in bed and sought Echo out, eyes closed. His hand met empty bed—and he hated to find empty bed first thing in the morning. Mael frowned, curious where his mate was. He sat up and rubbed his face, trying to wake up.

The sound of retching came from the bathroom.

Oh, no…

Mael peeked into the bathroom and found Echo hovered over the toilet.

“Hey,” Mael called from the door.

Echo jumped a bit. He glanced over a shoulder, face pale.“Hey. Good mor?—”

He whipped his head back and retched again.

Mael crossed the bathroom. He knelt behind Echo and pulled back his mate’s hair, curling one arm around Echo’s chest for support. Echo listed a bit to the side, clinging to Mael’s arm.

“Thanks… but I think I’m done,” Echo whispered a few seconds later.

“Has this been happening for a while?” Mael asked.

“Every morning for about six weeks.” He rested his head on Mael’s chest. “The baby sites say it usually stops around month four, so I have another month to go.”

Mael pressed a kiss to the top of Echo’s head. “There’s nothing a doctor could help with? Medicine or something?”

“Not really,” Echo said. “I’d just throw up a pill. There’s a suppository they give humans, but I was told that our slick prevents us from absorbing all of it.” He sighed. “It usually passes pretty quickly. I’ll be fine in a minute or two.”

Echo lifted his body off Mael and leaned his upper body over his knees.

Mael rubbed Echo’s back and frowned when he felt his mate stiffen under his touch.

“Are you touch sensitive when you’re sick?” Mael asked.

Echo shook his head. “No.” He dragged himself to his feet before Mael could get up to help him and walked to the sink to brush his teeth and wash his face.

Once Echo was done, he scooped his mate into his arms and headed for bed.

“I can walk,” Echo murmured.

Mael eyed him but kept on walking.

“I saidI can walk,” Echo said, his tone unusually firm.

Mael frowned. He allowed Echo to slide down his body, feeling as if he’d crossed a line he’d not seen nor understood. “I was only trying to help.”

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