Forbidden Love (Volume I)

Chapter Eighteen

A few months had passed, and Mistoffelees fell sick—really sick. He was getting really high fevers, and he barely could move anymore.
Good thing was that the entire Junkyard knew about it all already, so most of them were there to keep him company at all times whenever Tugger was out for some business—but mostly for prey for the two of them.

One time Demeter stayed with him the whole day for Tugger didn't return at all. Maybe the business he had that time was very important. But even if it was and if no-one knew about Mistoffelees, he'd have never left his mate.

"Tell me, Demeter," The tux murmured weakly.
"Yes, darling?" The tabby queen poured a glass of water for him, giving it to him.
He sipped from his glass, "Did You ever get sick this bad when you had Victor and Jemima?"
"Not that I recall. Perhaps not. Maybe you did because..." She sighed heavily, "Your body type is... different. Not to mention you're small for your age and gender. Your body is—how would I say—fragile. And you're carrying a big litter. I wouldn't be surprised. Tugger told me you had three close-calls on miscarriage, even. Your body can't handle much."
Misto teared up; he began sobbing, "Demeter, please, help me. You already had kits of your own, I'm pretty sure you know what's it like."
"I wish I could, but you're a tom and I'm a queen. It's different."
"It can't be different! In the end, I'm pregnant! I'm having kits of my own!" He groaned and whimpered, clutching his stomach.
Deme took hold of him, purring, "Calm down, sweetie. This isn't really helping the situation—you going mad isn't helping."
Misto was panting heavily, and groaned louder, "D-Deme, it hurts!"
"W-What hurts?!" The queen panicked.
"It's too much pain!"
"Oh, it will go soon, I promise." She caressed the tom's round belly.
Misto began moving in a uncomfortable way, still clutching his stomach.
"Hush, darling... Just drink this chamomile tea." Demeter gave the tuxedo a warm cup of tea. Misto trembled as he tried to get hold of the cup. He sipped a bit from his tea.
He then gave it back to her.
He's unbelievably sick, the queen thought.

There was a knock on the door. Demeter got up to open it, "Tugger! Glad you're back. He's not getting any better." She sighed.
"Isn't he? Everlasting, this is worrying me badly."
"Don't worry that much, either. He's not worse, either."
"Still... Misty?" Tugger approached the lying tux, giving him a nuzzle on the neck, "My poor sweetheart, why aren't you healing?" He rubbed his mate's belly.
Misto whimpered, "I don't know—I'm a stupid weakling!"
"Oh, don't say that! You're stronger than what you think!"
This made Demeter frown heavily.
"I want our kittens to be born healthy; their welcoming to be good!" Mistoffelees sobbed.
"Look, our kittens, they're going to arrive like any other kitten has. Please don't be sad." Tugger liked him.
"I think I should get going." Demeter insisted.
"Yes, we wouldn't like to keep you here any longer—you have things to do, too. And thank you for being here with him."
"Oh, it's nothing, and yes, I always do." She stepped outside the den, walking to hers and Munku's.

Mistoffelees was fast asleep with the chamomile tea and the soothing purring of his mate. Tugger watched how his mate fell asleep. He tucked himself into bed and pulled the tux close.