My jaw clenched, a growl building in my chest that I forced myself to swallow, I would tear apart anyone who had) harmed her family, who had caused her this pain. The wolf inside me snarled in agreement, demanding blood.
I nced back at Reba. <b>She </b>was watching me, her gray–green eyes filled with questions she was too tired to ask. The sight of her calmed the rage somewhat. I needed to focus on her now, on helping her heal. Vengeance could
wait.
“What is it?” she asked softly.
“Nothing important, I lied, slipping the phone back into my pocket. I worked to keep my expression neutral. “Just pack business.”
She nodded, epting the half–truth, and I felt a stab of guilt. Even now, I wasn’t beingpletely honest with her. But some truths were burdens she didn’t need to bear–not in her current state.
I moved back to her bedside, noticing how her hand <b>had </be to rest protectively over <b>her </b>abdomen. It was an unconscious gesture, one I’d seen her make several times since I’d arrived. My senses sharpened, focusing on that subtle change in her scent again. It was almost like…
No. Surely <b>not</b>. It was too soon.
My eyes fell on her <b>chart</b>, hanging at the foot of the bed. One quick look would confirm my suspicions. But <b>that </b>would be a vition of her privacy, her trust. If she wasn’t telling me, she must have her reasons.
A nurse entered to adjust Reba’s IV, and I noticed how <b>she </b>nced at certain notations on the chart with particr interest. After she left, curiosity nearly overwhelmed me, but I resisted the urge to look. Instead, I knelt beside Reba’s bed, taking her hand in mine..
I breathed deeply, letting her scent wash over me. Yes, there it was–that new note in her fragrance, subtle but unmistakable to my heightened senses. A change that spoke of new life, of something precious growing within her. My child.
The realization hit me with the <b>force </b>of a physical blow. Reba was carrying my child. A surge of primal protectiveness washed over me, nearly overwhelming in its intensity. My wolf howled within me, demanding that I im her, mark her, keep her safe from all harm.
With effort, I controlled the urge. She hadn’t told me, which meant she wasn’t ready for me to know. Perhaps she was afraid of my reaction, or unsure of her own feelings. I would give her time. She would tell <b>me </b>when she <b>was </b>ready.
I brought her hand to my lips, <b>kissing </b><b>her </b>palm gently. Her skin was warm despite her pallor, and I could feel her pulse–<b>quick </b>and light. Tears had dried on her cheeks, <b>leaving </b>faint trails that made my <b>heart </b>ache.
est,” I told her, keeping my <b>voice </b>even despite the storm of emotions within me.
“You should rest,” I
She nodded, her eyelids already drooping with exhaustion. “Will you stay?”
“As long as you need me,” I promised.
A small smile touched her lips as her eyes closed. “Good.”
I watched as she drifted into sleep, <b>her </b>breathing bing deep and regr. Only then did I allow myself to truly process what I’d discovered. A child. My child. Growing inside this human woman who had somehow broken through every barrier I’d built around my <b>heart</b>.
The implications were staggering. A half–werewolf child was rare enough, but one born to a future Alpha? There hadn’t been such a birth in generations. The pack would be divided–some would see it as a blessing, others as a threat to pure bloodlines. My mother would be furious. The elders would demand exnations.
And none of it mattered. Notpared to keeping Reba and our child safe.
Outside, a police <b>siren </b>wailed in the distance, and I instinctively moved between the window and Reba’s sleeping form<b>, </b>my body tensing for danger. It passed, just a coincidence, but my vignce didn’t ease. I would protect her with my life if necessary.
I noticed how, even in sleep, her hand <b>rested </b>on her abdomen, protective and tender. The gesture struck me deeply. She might not <b>have </b>told <b>me </b>about the pregnancy, but it was clear she already loved our <b>child</b>.
Leaning close, I whispered in her ear, using the ancientnguage of <b>my </b>people: “By the moon <b>as </b>my witness, my heart, my strength, my life are yours, <b>no </b>matter what secrets you hold<b>.</b>”
My fingers brushed against the mark on my neck–her mark–feeling its warmth. “When you’re ready, I will be here to listen, my mate, my everything.”
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