Chapter 585
Ivan woke slowly, the kind of waking that came with awareness before movement.
For a moment, he didn’t open his eyes.
He just… existed.
Then he did.
Kaelan was beside him, still asleep, one arm draped loosely over Ivan’s hip like it had settled there without permission and refused to leave. His breathing was steady, unbothered, deeply unconscious in a way Ivan found personally offensive.
Ivan looked at him for a second.
“…Of course you are,” he murmured under his breath.
Then his gaze shifted.
The cribs.
Silence.
Ivan narrowed his eyes slightly.
Not relief.
Suspicion.
He carefully lifted Kaelan’s arm off him and slid out of bed with controlled precision, ignoring the quiet protest of his own body as if acknowledging it would make it worse.
“…If they are quiet for too long, it usually means something is wrong,” he muttered.
Or worse—
They were behaving.
Unlikely.
He crossed the room and stopped at the cribs, looking in with sharp attention.
Lana.
Of course.
Still.
Composed.
Perfectly arranged as if she had chosen that position deliberately and refused to compromise.
Ivan’s expression softened—barely.
“…Yes,” he said quietly. “That is correct.”
Then—
Ivanna.
Blanket off.
Completely.
Half-turned like she had fought something in her sleep and won.
One small red ear visible.
Ivan stared.
“…Unacceptable.”
He reached in and fixed the blanket immediately, precise and deliberate, tucking it back around her with quiet authority.
“You are not a stray,” he informed her calmly. “You will remain covered.”
Ivanna shifted slightly.
Ivan froze.
Watched.
She settled.
He exhaled—just once.
Then he looked at them both.
Really looked.
Not a passing glance.
Not a check.
A pause.
A study.
Two small bodies.
Both with red hair.
Soft.
Bright.
Unmistakably his.
Ivanna’s ear twitched faintly beneath the blanket, a hint of the wolf she carried without apology.
Lana remained still, as if she had already decided chaos was beneath her.
Ivan’s gaze lingered.
Longer than it should have.
“…I carried you,” he said quietly.
Not dramatic.
Not soft.
Just—
Stated.
“I endured months of discomfort, poor decisions, and an unacceptable diet.”
A faint frown.
“…Human food.”
His hand hovered briefly over them.
Then, carefully—
Very carefully—
He rested his fingers lightly between them.
Not pressing.
Just there.
Guarding.
“…You are both excessively pretty,” he added, almost like it annoyed him.
A pause.
Then lower—
“…and entirely mine.”
He watched them breathe.
Counted it without realizing.
Made sure.
Again.
And again.
“…I do not regret it,” he said after a moment.
The words came slower.
More deliberate.
Less defensive.
“I would not repeat it willingly,” he added immediately.
A beat.
“…but I do not regret it.”
Ivanna shifted again under the blanket.
Ivan adjusted it automatically.
Without looking away.
“…You will not grow into peasants,” he informed them calmly. “I did not suffer for that outcome.”
A pause.
Then—
Quieter.
Warmer.
Barely there.
“…Papa loves you.”
He stilled after saying it.
Like the words had slipped out without permission.
Then immediately straightened, composure snapping back into place.
He stayed where he was, standing between the cribs, watching them with that same composed, unreadable expression—except now it lingered a little too long to be just observation.
“…Now,” he said quietly, as if continuing a conversation they were expected to follow, “we will establish expectations early.”
His gaze moved to Lana first.
Of course.
“You,” he murmured, tone measured, almost approving, “are a Vaelmont.”
A small pause.
“You will study properly. You will carry yourself properly. You will not embarrass me in public settings, and you will absolutely not tolerate mediocrity.”
He tilted his head slightly, studying her stillness.
“…You seem capable.”
Then—
Ivanna.
Ivan’s eyes narrowed faintly.
“…You.”
A breath.
“Your father will likely teach you to run through forests and howl at inappropriate hours.”
A beat.
“…and, apparently, roll in mud.”
Ivan let out a quiet, disbelieving huff of laughter.
“Which we will be correcting.”
“I heard that.”
Ivan froze.
Slowly—very slowly—he turned his head.
Kaelan was awake.
Half-propped against the pillows, watching him with very little subtlety.
Ivan straightened immediately.
Composure snapping back into place.
“…I apologize,” he said flatly. “I did not intend to wake you, mutt.”
Kaelan blinked once.
Then raised a brow.
“I thought we had moved past that.”
Ivan lifted his chin.
“I was pregnant.”
Kaelan stared at him.
“…That is not a valid excuse.”
“It is an exceptional one.”
Ivan turned back to the cribs, as if the conversation had already ended.
“They are quiet,” he added, tone returning to neutral.
“They’re sleeping,” Kaelan replied.
“As they should.”
There was a shift behind him.
Then warmth.
Kaelan stepped in close and wrapped his arms around Ivan from behind, pulling him back lightly against his chest.
Ivan stiffened—
Only slightly.
Kaelan pressed a soft kiss to his hair.
“Are they not perfect?” he murmured.
Ivan didn’t hesitate.
“Of course they are.”
A pause.
“They are mine.”
Kaelan laughed quietly, resting his chin against Ivan’s head, entirely comfortable in a way Ivan pretended not to notice.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “My love.”
Ivan went still.
Then immediately flustered—subtly, but unmistakably.
“…That is unnecessary,” he muttered.
A pause.
Then, recovering—
“…We should return to bed.”
Kaelan smiled against his hair.
“Of course.”
Ivan turned in his arms.
Smooth.
Controlled.
As if he hadn’t just been caught.
Kaelan kissed him.
Ivan kissed back.
No hesitation.
No resistance.
Just enough to forget himself for a moment—
And then immediately remember.
Ivan pulled back first, regaining composure with visible effort, smoothing an imaginary crease from his sleeve.
“…Also,” he said, tone returning to precise and controlled, “what I said earlier—about her howling and rolling in mud—was clearly a joke.”
Kaelan didn’t even hesitate.
“No, she will.”
Ivan blinked.
Once.
Slowly.
“…What.”
Kaelan’s mouth curved, already enjoying this.
“She’s a Stormwolf,” he said simply. “She’ll run, she’ll shift, she’ll howl. Probably loudly.”
Ivan stared at him.
“…No.”
“Yes.”
“No,” Ivan repeated, firmer now. “That is not happening.”
Kaelan folded his arms, amused.
“She’ll hunt too.”
Ivan went very still.
“She will what.”
Kaelan kept going, deliberately calm.
“Run through forests. Climb things. Get dirty. Probably come back covered in mud at some point—”
Ivan made a sharp, horrified sound.
“No.”
Kaelan nodded, as if confirming something obvious.
“And the hair—”
Ivan’s hand flew to his own head.
“No.”
“—will absolutely be a mess.”
“No.”
“Leaves. Dirt. Maybe blood—”
“I refuse.”
Kaelan grinned.
“Teeth out, ears up—”
“I REFUSE.”
Ivan took a step back, one hand pressed dramatically to his temple.
“This is unacceptable,” he declared. “Completely unacceptable. I did not endure pregnancy for my daughter to return to me smelling like a forest.”
Kaelan laughed.
“She’ll like it.”
“I will not.”
“She’ll enjoy running.”
“I will not allow it.”
“You won’t be able to stop her.”
“I will redesign her schedule.”
Kaelan laughed harder.
Ivan closed his eyes briefly, breathing in like he was trying to survive something catastrophic.
“…Her hair,” he muttered. “Do you understand what happens to hair in mud?”
“Yes.”
“…It tangles.”
“Yes.”
“…It ruins texture.”
“Yes.”
“…It—” Ivan opened his eyes, visibly distressed, “—it becomes unmanageable.”
Kaelan lost it.
Fully laughing now.
Ivan pressed his fingers harder to his temple.
“I cannot raise a child who willingly rolls in dirt.”
Kaelan stepped closer.
“You are raising two.”
Ivan turned his head slowly.
“…Do not include her,” he said, gesturing faintly toward Lana. “She has standards.”
From the crib—
Lana, perfectly still.
Ivanna shifted.
Kaelan reached for him, still laughing, and pulled him gently forward.
Ivan did not resist.
Mostly because he looked like he might collapse.
“This is happening,” Kaelan said.
Ivan let out a long, suffering exhale.
“…I need time.”
“You’ll get it.”
“I need control.”
“You won’t get that.”
Ivan stared at him.
Offended.
Deeply.
Then Kaelan simply lifted him.
Effortless.
Like it was expected.
Ivan made a quiet, scandalized sound.
“Put me down.”
“No.”
“I am serious.”
“I know.”
“This is undignified.”
“You’ll survive.”
“I might not.”
Kaelan carried him back toward the bed, still smiling.
Ivan allowed it.
Reluctantly.
Dramatically.
“…If she returns covered in mud,” Ivan muttered as he was set down, “you will be the one cleaning her.”
Kaelan leaned down, still amused.
“Of course.”
A pause.
“…You won’t help?”
Ivan looked at him like he had suggested something offensive.
“…I will supervise.”
Across the room—
Ivanna shifted again.
Lana remained perfectly still.
Ivan glanced once in their direction.
Then back at Kaelan.
“…We will fix this.”
Kaelan smiled.
“No, we won’t.”