Chapter 212
Blake
I wake to the sensation of being trapped in quicksand, every muscle in my body screaming with the effort of staying still. Kara's pressed against my chest, her blue silk nightgown riding up just enough to reveal the curve of her hip, and the scent of her—magnolia and snow laced with something new, something richer—makes my wolf claw at the inside of my skull.
Pregnancy hormones. The realization slams into me before I'm fully conscious, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper just to keep from rolling her beneath me and proving exactly how much I want her.
I shift carefully, trying to ease the pressure building in my groin without waking her, but it's a losing battle. She's tucked between Cole and me, one of her legs thrown over my thigh, and every small movement she makes sends fresh waves of her scent washing over me.
Through the bond, Asher's voice cuts in, sharp with irritation. I spent the entire night on the outside edge of this bed, listening to her breathe. I couldn't even touch her.
Despite the ache in my balls, I almost laugh. That's because you insisted I take the outer spot last night, remember? Payback's a bitch, brother.
Both of you need to grow up, Cole mutters, but I can feel his own frustration bleeding through the link—he's got Kara's back pressed against his chest, and from the tension in his mental voice, he's just as hard as I am.
Our scents fill the bedroom—my gunpowder and leather mixing with Cole's mint and ozone and Asher's ebony and tobacco. All of it made sharper, more dangerous by the night we spent pressed against her without being able to do a damn thing about it. The combination is thick enough to choke on, a declaration to any wolf with a working nose that three Alphas spent the night in sexual purgatory.
It's almost seven, Asher sends, and I can feel him forcing his mind toward logistics, toward anything that isn't the memory of Kara grinding against him last night. The OB-GYN appointment is at nine. We need to get moving.
I can't wait to hear the heartbeat, Cole responds, and his mental voice goes soft in that way that always makes me want to punch him and hug him at the same time. To know for sure that our baby's really in there.
MY baby, I send back automatically. Obviously it's going to be a strong boy. My son will be perfect Alpha material.
You mean MY cub, Cole shoots back. And I'm telling you, it's a girl. I can feel it. She'll be just as beautiful as Kara.
You're both idiots, Asher cuts in with that infuriating older-brother superiority. The child is OURS. We don't get to claim individual parentage.
I roll my eyes even though neither of them can see it in the pre-dawn darkness. Spoken like someone who's secretly hoping the kid inherits his obsessive need to alphabetize everything.
Better than your tendency to destroy property when you're angry.
Or Cole's habit of crying at sunsets, I add.
I don't cry, Cole protests. I appreciate natural beauty.
You cried at that commercial with the puppy last week.
That puppy was LOST—
A soft thump interrupts our bickering. I glance toward Asher's side of the bed and see his pillow on the floor. Through the bond, I feel his immediate spike of anxiety.
He sits up carefully, trying not to disturb Kara, and I watch in disbelief as he opens his nightstand drawer and pulls out a packet of antibacterial wipes.
Are you seriously—
We have a pregnant Luna, Asher sends sharply, his mental voice carrying that edge of panic he gets when he's trying to control something he can't actually control. We need to be vigilant about bacteria. About germs. About anything that could potentially—
Asher, I interrupt, trying to keep the exasperation out of my mental voice. It's a pillow. It fell two feet.
But he's already methodically wiping down every inch of the fabric, his movements precise and controlled in a way that would be reassuring if it wasn't also completely unhinged.
A pillow that was on a floor where we walk with shoes, he argues. Shoes that have been outside where there are animals and dirt and—
The pillow is clean, Cole cuts in gently. You're spiraling.
Asher pauses mid-wipe, and I feel his embarrassment flicker through the bond before he ruthlessly suppresses it. But he doesn't stop cleaning. When he's done with the pillow, he pulls out a small notebook and pen from the same drawer.
I crane my neck to watch him start writing, and my eyebrows climb toward my hairline when I see what he's doing.
7:00 - Wake Kara. 7:30 - Breakfast. 8:15 - Depart for medical center. 9:00 - Appointment. 10:30 - Return to estate...
Are you planning a military operation? I ask incredulously.
Kara's health and our baby's safety are more important than any military operation, Asher responds without looking up. I need to make sure everything is perfect. That we don't miss anything. That she's—
Safe, Cole finishes softly. We know, Ash. We want that too.
Through the bond, I feel Asher's gratitude, but also his bone-deep fear that if he doesn't control every variable, something will go wrong. That we'll lose her again.
The doctor is female, right? I send, needing the confirmation even though I already know the answer.
Dr. Elena Martinez, Asher confirms, still writing. The best OB-GYN in Silver Frost Pack. Board certified, fifteen years of experience, excellent patient reviews—
Does she have kids? Cole asks, genuine curiosity in his mental voice. I mean, has she actually been through pregnancy herself?
I can't help myself. Don't let Mom hear you asking about other maternal figures. She'll lose her shit.
I'm not looking for a mother, Cole protests. I just want to make sure the doctor has practical experience, not just theoretical knowledge.
Dr. Martinez has three children, Asher supplies. And her scent is a gentle lavender—non-threatening, unlikely to trigger stress in Kara.
The clinical way he phrases it makes me want to laugh, but I get it. After everything Kara's been through, we can't be too careful about who gets near her.
Movement against my chest makes me freeze. I look down to find Kara's eyes open, those warm brown irises focusing on my face with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
"Morning, baby," I murmur, keeping my voice low and gentle.
She blinks slowly, like she's trying to orient herself, and I watch reality settle back in—where she is, who she's with, that she's safe. Her hand comes up to touch my face, fingers trembling slightly as they trace my jaw.
"Last night..." she starts, her voice rough with sleep and confusion. "Nothing happened."
The words hang in the air between us, and through the bond I feel Cole's concern spike and Asher's immediate tension.
She's wondering why we didn't touch her, Cole sends.
She thinks there's something wrong with her, Asher adds, alarm bleeding through the link.