"Like hell is she leaving home." This from Lana, who reigned like a queen on the couch, her feet soaking in a tub of briny water. Her green hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her summer dress hiked up over her knees. "If anyone goes, it should be me."
"You are not going anywhere," declared her mate, Jory, a strapping Viking who seemed to think forbidding Lana anything was a bright idea.
"I'm pregnant, not an invalid," Lana snarled, her voice reaching a pitch that made me wince even though it wasn't directed at me.
My head bounced to Jory for his reply. "You need to take it easy. The doctor said so."
"Only because he's a moron," she snapped. "Did you know he told me I should stop taking baths because showers are healthier? As if. He's lucky I didn't burst his eardrums for that stup
