Chapter 237
Kara
I'd just noticed the stack of books on the nightstand. Thick, official-looking books with titles like Expecting Multiples: A Complete Guide and The Wolf Pregnancy Handbook.
"Those are the books Dr. Martinez recommended," Asher said, and there was something almost defensive in his tone. "I thought we could review them together. Make sure we're prepared for—"
"Asher." I turned to face him fully. "Did you stay up all night reading pregnancy books?"
His jaw tightened. "I skimmed a few chapters."
"He read all of them cover to cover," Blake translated. "And made notes. Color-coded notes."
Despite everything, I felt warmth bloom in my chest. This was how Asher showed love—through preparation, through control, through trying to anticipate every possible problem before it arose.
"Okay," I said, surprising all of them. "After I shower and eat, we can look at them together. But—" I held up a hand when Asher's face lit up. "—we're not going to obsess. We're going to review the important stuff, make a plan, and then move on. Deal?"
"Deal," he agreed, though I could already see him mentally organizing which chapters to prioritize.
The shower was blissful, even with Blake insisting on standing guard outside the bathroom door "in case I got dizzy." By the time I emerged, dressed in soft leggings and another of their oversized shirts, I actually felt almost human.
Cole had prepared lunch—grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and wild rice, perfectly balanced and pregnancy-appropriate. I ate at the small table in our suite while they watched with varying degrees of intensity.
"You know I can feed myself, right?" I said around a bite of chicken. "You don't have to stare."
"We're not staring," Blake protested. "We're... observing."
"That's literally the same thing."
"We're making sure you're eating enough," Asher corrected. "You barely had dinner last night."
"I had toast and fruit."
"That's not dinner, that's a snack."
I rolled my eyes but dutifully cleaned my plate. The truth was, I was ravenous. The babies seemed to have decided that now—now that I'd finally gotten some sleep—was the perfect time to demand all the nutrients.
Once I'd finished, Asher gathered the pregnancy books with barely contained enthusiasm. We reconvened on the bed, me propped against the headboard with pillows, the three of them arranged around me like overprotective bookends.
"So," Asher began, opening the first book to a marked page. "Chapter three covers nutritional requirements for triplet pregnancies. You'll need approximately three thousand calories per day, with emphasis on—"
"Wait," I interrupted. "Start from the beginning. What's chapter one?"
He looked uncomfortable. "Chapter one is... basic pregnancy biology. We don't need to review that."
"We?" I raised an eyebrow. "You mean you already know it all from your late-night reading binge?"
"I may have familiarized myself with the fundamentals," he admitted.
Blake snorted. "He can probably recite the entire book from memory at this point."
"Then he can teach us," I decided, settling back against the pillows. "Pretend I know nothing. Walk me through it."
Asher's eyes lit up—he loved teaching, loved organizing information. "Alright. So, wolf pregnancies differ from human pregnancies in several key ways. First, the gestational period is shorter—approximately seven months instead of nine."
"Seven months?" I did the mental math. "So I'm due in—"
"Late June, early July," Cole supplied. "Assuming conception happened during our Hawaii trip."
Which it definitely had. Multiple times. In multiple positions. I felt my cheeks heat at the memory.
"Second," Asher continued, mercifully ignoring my blush, "fetal development is accelerated. You'll start showing earlier, feel movement earlier, and the babies will be more active than human fetuses."
"How much more active?" I asked, one hand moving unconsciously to my abdomen.
"The book says to expect significant movement by twelve weeks," he said. "And with triplets, space will be limited, so they'll be competing for room fairly early."
"Great," I muttered. "Internal cage match."
Blake grinned. "Our kids are going to be fighters. I love it."
"You won't love it when they're kicking my bladder at three AM," I pointed out.
"Fair," he conceded. "But I'll love you while you're cursing them out."
Asher flipped to another marked page. "There's a section here on scent changes during pregnancy. Apparently your pheromones will shift to include protective markers that signal to other wolves that you're carrying."
"I've already noticed that," Cole said quietly. "Your scent has this... sweetness now. Like milk and honey layered under the white musk."
"It's driving us crazy," Blake added bluntly. "In the best way. Every instinct we have is screaming to protect you, provide for you, keep you safe."
"Hence the hovering," I said dryly.
"Hence the hovering," he agreed, unrepentant.
We continued through the chapter, Asher explaining everything from hormone fluctuations to the increased nutritional needs of wolf pregnancies. It should have been boring—clinical medical information—but the way he presented it, the care he took to make sure I understood, made it oddly intimate.
"Chapter four," Asher said, flipping forward, "covers physical changes and common symptoms. Morning sickness, fatigue, increased appetite—"
"Increased libido," Blake read over his shoulder, voice dropping to something rougher. "Says here that some pregnant wolves experience heightened sexual desire due to hormonal changes."
The temperature in the room seemed to spike.
"Blake," Asher said warningly.
"What? It's in the book. We're supposed to be informed." His amber eyes found mine, heat flickering in their depths. "So, baby. You experiencing any... heightened desire?"
My face flamed. "We're studying. This is educational."
"Education can be fun," he countered, one hand finding my ankle under the covers, thumb stroking the bone there. "The book also says that sex during pregnancy is perfectly safe, assuming no complications."
"Blake," I warned, but my voice came out breathy.
Cole cleared his throat. "It actually says sex is safe and beneficial. Helps maintain the mate bond, reduces stress, promotes healthy blood flow." His mint scent sharpened slightly, taking on a warmer edge. "We should probably make sure we're following all of Dr. Martinez's recommendations."
"This is not what Dr. Martinez meant," I protested, but I was fighting a smile.
Asher sighed, closing the book with exaggerated patience. "Can we get through one educational session without it devolving into—"
"Into what?" Blake challenged, his hand sliding higher on my calf. "Into acknowledging that our mate is gorgeous and we haven't properly appreciated that in almost sixteen hours?"
"Sixteen hours is not that long."
"It's an eternity when she smells this good."
I should shut this down. We were supposed to be learning about pregnancy, not—
But Cole's hand had found my other leg, mirroring Blake's position. And Asher, despite his protests, had shifted closer, his ebony-and-tobacco scent thickening with want he was trying to suppress.
"The book says," I heard myself say, "that pregnant wolves need extra... attention. To feel desired and beautiful even as their bodies change."
"Does it now," Asher murmured, and there was something predatory in his smile. "Well. We should definitely follow the book's advice."
Blake's hand slid higher, reaching my knee. "Absolutely. We're very committed to your health and wellbeing."
"So committed," Cole agreed, his fingers tracing patterns on my shin that made me shiver.
The books were forgotten, pushed aside as Blake moved closer. His lips found my neck, just below my ear, and I couldn't quite suppress my gasp.
"Still want to study?" he murmured against my skin.
"I—" My brain was rapidly losing the ability to form coherent thoughts. "We should—"
"Should what?" Asher's hand cupped my cheek, turning my face toward his. "Tell us what you need, Kara."
What I needed. God, what didn't I need?
"You," I admitted, the word barely a whisper. "I need you. All of you."
The bond exploded with triumphant desire, three sets of wants crashing into me with enough force to steal my breath.
"Thank fuck," Blake growled, and then his mouth was on mine, demanding and hungry and perfect.
Blake kissed me like he was trying to crawl inside my skin, one hand tangling in my hair while the other gripped my hip hard enough to leave marks. Through the bond, I felt his desperate need—not just for sex, but for connection, for reassurance that I was really here, really his, really safe.
I kissed him back just as fiercely, pouring everything I couldn't say into the slide of lips and tongue. I'm here. I'm yours. I'm not going anywhere.