Page 39 of King Luna

“Keep breathing,” Noah whispers. His palms sweep down my arms, back, and hips, warming my sore joints. I shut my eyes, leaning into his touch with a soft groan when he reaches the dimples behind my hips. “There you go. You’re doing so well.”

My heart flutters at his words. Thankfully, I don’t feel like I’m at the level of nausea where I have to fully throw up, but I’m stillproducing so much excess saliva in preparation that I’m forced to continually spit into the bag. It’s gross.

But Noah’s breath skates over the back of my neck, sending tingles down my spine. As he continues to rub, knead, and caress me, my muscles loosen, lessening my nausea.

“That’s helping so much. Thank you, love,” I whisper.

Noah sighs. “Fuck, I’m just so sorry you had to fly this far while pregnant. It seems absolutelymiserable.”

“It’s okay—” I pause, clearing my throat; my trembling voice is nowhere near convincing. Taking a deep breath, I steady myself. “Like I said, I want to be here with you. And I’d do anything for this baby.”

“I know, me too. So keep leaning on me and allowing me to carry this struggle with you, okay? You’re doing great.”

I nod, but I can’t bear to waste my energy on speaking a single word more. I’m forced to breathe deeply with my eyes closed, gripping my sickness bag tight.

“Are you both okay? Do you need anything?” A new voice chimes in.

Dammit, that must be a flight attendant. I pry one eye open, but Noah’s hands slow into gentle sweeps on my back, a silent reassurance he’ll take care of things. As he applies climbing pressure up my spine, I drop my chin to my chest, allowing my neck muscles to loosen between gentle, swirling presses of Noah’s thumbs.

He keeps his voice soft. “She’s just feeling a little stiff and motion sick. We’ll try to sit back down in a minute.”

“Would you like some ginger candies or sparkling water?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

As the flight attendant’s heelsclackaway from us down the aisle, I expand my rib cage further with each breath, allowing Noah’s pressure to deepen beneath my shoulder blades.

But a different voice in front of me snaps my eyes open.

“I’m so sorry to accidentally eavesdrop, but I have something else that could help, if you’d like.”

A fifty-something woman pokes her head around the privacy divider across the aisle. She’s wearing a tailored gray business suit, her silky black hair wrapped in a perfect bun.

My heart drops. For a second, she looks just like my mom—her kind, dark eyes radiating with care.

When I regain my bearings, my eyebrows pinch in worry. “Oh, gosh. I’m so sorry to disturb your luxury flight like this.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, no, not at all! You’ve both been incredibly quiet, actually. I just noticed your discomfort as I was trading another book to read from my bag, and even before your sweet husband commented about your pregnancy, I knew I could relate to your struggles.”

Shit, sorry. Maybe I was louder than I thought,Noah mindlinks.

Don’t be sorry for how incredible you’ve been, Noah. I think it’s more like you said in the parking garage; I’m starting to look pregnant now too. Maybe it was too wishful of us to think we could hide it at the Summit.

Noah’s uncertainty rises with mine in our bond, but his hand wrapping around my belly reminds me he’s here, figuring out this trip alongside me.

This stranger scoots to the edge of her chair, facing me in the aisle. Placing two gray, wide elastic bands into her palm, she extends her hand. “Ever since my first pregnancy, I’ve had terrible motion sickness. I have an extra pair of sea bands, if you’d like them.”

A sharp spike of surprise hits my chest. My emotions waver, uncertain how to react to such thoughtfulness. I’m tempted to apologize or dissuade my way out of this, preventing myself from being a burden on this kind stranger. But Noah’s hand still cupped around Little Wolf reminds me why I agreed with himthis morning; I don’t want our baby to learn this false belief that they can’t accept help.

And if they were in my position, feeling sick on a plane, I’d want our future pup to use a stranger’s sea bands.Especiallyif they happen to be missing their mom.

So I take the bands with a smile, even as my ribs tighten in discomfort. “Oh, my gosh, how kind. Thank you!” I lift one band to analyze it. A small, round bead is sewn into the elastic. “I’ve seen these before, but I’ve never used them.”

Noah’s fingers loosen around my sides as he peeks over my shoulder. “What do they do?”

“They’re for an acupressure point on your wrist. Here, let me show you how to use them.” The woman holds out her hand with a smile.

The world must be testing me today. I give her a shaky smile, cautiously extending my wrist. After adjusting the band into the correct position with thin, nimble fingers, she rubs its small, sewn ball attachment into my wrist. Noah copies her on my other hand, and I relax my back against Noah’s chest at their gentle massaging.

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