Chapter 214
Blake
Once Kara's dressed in the ice-blue ensemble—and I have to admit, even if I won't say it out loud, that Asher chose well—she walks to the window. Her shoulders hunch slightly as she looks out at the snow-covered landscape, and I hear her mutter, "Alaska is so damn cold."
Asher's at her side in an instant, concern radiating through the bond so strongly it makes my own chest tight. "Do you ever wish you were a Southern Luna instead of a Northern one?"
The question comes out more vulnerable than I think he intended, and through the bond I feel his genuine fear that she regrets being bound to us, to this frozen territory, to a life she never really chose.
But Kara turns to face him, and the look in her eyes makes my breath catch. She goes up on her toes and kisses the tip of his nose—a gesture so tender, so unexpected, that Asher freezes completely.
"You're well worth the frostbite," she says softly.
Through the bond, Asher's emotions explode—joy, relief, possessive satisfaction, and something deeper that makes my own chest go tight with feeling.
She kissed my nose, he sends to Cole and me, and I can practically hear the smugness even though his mental voice is trying to stay neutral.
Only because you stole my turn, I grumble back, but there's no real heat in it. Seeing Asher this happy, this openly emotional, is worth any amount of clothing-choice theft.
Asher immediately springs into action, gathering Kara's winter gear with the same meticulous care he applies to everything. He helps her into her Canada Goose parka, wraps a cashmere scarf around her neck with precise folds that cover every inch of exposed skin, and kneels down to help her step into her UGG boots.
"Can't have you getting cold," he murmurs, and through the bond I feel how much this matters to him—keeping her warm, keeping her safe, keeping her with us.
When we're all ready, Asher pauses at the bedroom door. "I'll drive today."
I raise an eyebrow. Since when do you volunteer to drive?
Since I stole Blake's turn to dress her, he sends back, and there's actual guilt in his mental voice. This is my way of making it fair.
Cole and I exchange a look but don't argue. If Asher needs to atone for his clothing theft by playing chauffeur, who are we to stop him?
We settle Kara in the back seat of the Arctic White Tesla Model X, with Cole and me on either side of her. I reach for her left hand while Cole takes her right, our fingers interlacing with hers in a gesture that's become second nature.
Through the bond, I feel Asher adjusting the rearview mirror, angling it so he can see Kara's reflection. The car glides smoothly out of Midnight Estate's garage, the electric engine silent as we head toward Silver Frost Pack's medical center.
None of us speak. The silence isn't uncomfortable—it's loaded with anticipation, anxiety, hope, and the bone-deep relief that we're finally taking this step. Through the bond, we share everything: Asher's careful focus on the road, Cole's gentle concern radiating toward Kara, my own fierce protectiveness.
Kara sits between us, surrounded by our scents—my gunpowder and leather on her left, Cole's mint and ozone on her right, Asher's ebony and tobacco drifting back from the driver's seat. Outside the windows, Alaska spreads out in endless white, the morning sun turning the glaciers to pale gold.
Asher
The waiting room's white walls closed in on me, sterile and suffocating. I stared at the cold-toned furniture, and my mind dragged me back to a memory I'd rather forget—the first time I'd brought Kara to this medical center. After the hide-and-seek incident.
Father had insisted on medical care afterward, worried about liability more than her welfare. I'd stood in the hallway while doctors treated her for hypothermia, her small body shaking so violently the examination table rattled. That had been her first experience with proper healthcare in this territory—and it had only happened because we'd nearly killed her.
The guilt twisted in my chest, sharp and relentless.
We can fix this now, my wolf insisted. Give her the best care. Make it different.
But no amount of expensive medical attention could erase what I'd done. What we'd all done.
"We shouldn't be waiting." Blake's voice cut through my thoughts, sharp with impatience. He paced like a caged predator, his gunpowder-and-leather scent flaring hot. "We're Alphas."
I glanced at the clock—8:45 AM, fifteen minutes early. My fingers tightened around the leather notebook I'd brought, already filled with notes about pregnancy symptoms, nutritional requirements, potential complications.
Kara's soft voice intervened before I could respond. "Blake, we arrived early. The doctor isn't even here yet."
She sat between Cole and me, her hands twisted together despite Cole's attempts to hold one. Her magnolia-and-snow scent carried undertones of anxiety that made my wolf whine.
I forced my voice to stay calm. "The appointment is at nine. Dr. Martinez is punctual. She'll be here on time." I paused, then added more gently, "We're early because I wanted time for any necessary paperwork."
Through our mental link, I felt Blake's frustrated acknowledgment and Cole's worried focus on Kara. Right now, our bond was a cacophony of barely restrained protective instincts.
I watched the enormous aquarium on one wall, silver angelfish gliding through water plants with hypnotic grace. I tried to let the rhythm calm me, but my mind kept circling back to Kara's anxiety, to all the ways this could go wrong.
Stop, I commanded myself. Focus on keeping her safe now.
Through the bond, Kara's anxiety was getting worse, not better. Her breathing had gone shallow, fingers twisting with enough force that I worried she'd hurt herself.
I wanted to reach out, but I held back. She'd set boundaries about touch yesterday, and I would respect them even if it killed me. Especially after last night, waking up with her scent thick and intoxicating, every instinct screaming to claim her while having to deny both her and ourselves because we couldn't risk the pregnancy.
You did the right thing, Cole sent through our link. She needed to know we can control ourselves.
Doesn't make it easier, Blake growled back.
A nurse in pale blue scrubs emerged from the hallway, her gaze sweeping over us with the instinctive recognition of superior predators. "Sterling Alphas." Then she turned to Kara, her demeanor shifting to something approaching reverence. "Luna Kara Sterling."
I felt Kara flinch slightly at the title, her complicated feelings bleeding through the bond—pride warring with unworthiness, hope tangled with fear.
You are our Luna, I sent to her privately. Nothing will change that.
"Luna Kara Sterling, please come in." Dr. Martinez's warm voice called from beyond the half-open door.
Kara stood, and Blake and Cole immediately flanked her. I moved ahead to hold the door, positioning myself to be first through in case of any threat.
There won't be a threat, I told myself. This is a medical facility. Everything is under control.
But my wolf didn't believe it. Control was an illusion. We'd already lost her once.
Dr. Martinez's office surprised me—cream walls decorated with watercolors of wolf pups, plush toys on shelves, warm lighting instead of harsh fluorescents. Someone had thought about what a pregnant Luna might need to feel safe.
I stepped forward first, extending my hand. "Good morning, Doctor."
Dr. Martinez was mid-forties, warm brown skin, silver-streaked hair in a neat bun, kind eyes behind glasses. She shook my hand firmly, then Blake's and Cole's, but I noticed how she moved with deliberate slowness around Kara, never making sudden gestures.
She knows, I realized. She knows Kara has medical trauma.
"Today we'll do a first-trimester standard examination," the doctor said, addressing Kara directly. "An ultrasound scan, listening to the heartbeat with a Doppler, and some basic blood work. Nothing painful or dangerous—I promise."
Kara nodded, but her shoulders remained rigid. Through the bond, I felt her anxiety spike at the mention of blood work.
She's terrified, Blake sent.
We stay calm, I commanded. If we react, we'll make it worse.