Chapter 88 88
“What happened?” Sofía asked, breathless, as she hurried into the lounge. A cluster of people stood gathered around the sofa, their faces pale, their bodies rigid.
“It’s Monica. S-she… she lost her mate,” Jeanne choked out, her voice breaking.
The moment Sofía caught sight of the girl sprawled across the cushions, it felt as though claws had torn straight through her chest and ripped her heart free.
Monica’s body was trembling violently, as if she were wasting away before their eyes. Her skin had taken on a sickly yellow hue, her lips drained of color, her eyes rolling back until only the whites showed. It was horrifying.
Doc and Corinne were crouched beside her, working quickly while the others could only stare, helpless and stricken. Sofía couldn’t move. She stood rooted to the floor, shock paralyzing her limbs.
Doc pressed a syringe into Monica’s arm. Seconds later, her convulsions slowed. Her body slackened, surrendering to unconsciousness. Corinne released a shaky breath.
Rising to her feet, Corinne turned and found Sofía standing there, frozen, staring at Monica’s limp form.
Without a word, Corinne crossed the room, seized Sofía’s hand, and pulled her away, guiding her into the kitchen.
“Why are you down here?” Corinne asked, her voice tight with panic.
“M-Monica… she…” Sofía couldn’t finish. The words dissolved on her tongue.
Tears pooled in Corinne’s eyes. She looked away before they could fall.
“When someone’s mate dies,” she said quietly, her voice trembling, “the pain is unbearable. Agonizing. It feels like your soul is being ripped apart… like someone is carving your heart open with a dagger dipped in acid.”
The image was brutal enough to make Sofía instinctively press her hand protectively over her stomach. Her own eyes filled as she sank into a chair, gripping her head.
“Please… no,” she whispered.
In an instant, Corinne was kneeling beside her.
“Hey. Sofía. Calm down,” she murmured, cupping her cheeks and forcing her gently to look up.
“I’m s-scared,” Sofía confessed, the words barely audible. It was the first time she had admitted it out loud since Fernando left.
She was terrified. So damn terrified. The mere thought of losing him felt corrosive, like acid eating through her chest. She wouldn’t survive that kind of pain. She wouldn’t.
“Nothing will happen to him.”
The new voice came from the doorway. Cécile stepped into the kitchen, her expression steady.
“Do not stress yourself,” she said softly. “It isn’t good for the baby.”
Sofía’s gaze dropped immediately to her belly.
They were right. She couldn’t let fear consume her. Not now. Not with a life growing inside her.
“B-but Monica…” she murmured weakly.
“She will be fine,” Cécile assured her. “I’ll take care of her.”
Sofía nodded, though the dread still clung to her like a shadow. Corinne escorted her upstairs to her room and left her there alone.
She tried not to think. She truly tried. But worry drowned her, pulling her deeper and deeper. The fear of losing him wrapped around her throat and refused to loosen.
She paced her room all day.
She prayed. Over and over again, she prayed for Fernando, for his warriors, for their safety, for victory, for his return. Night fell, but sleep refused to come.
Eventually, she stripped and sank into the bathtub. Warm water enveloped her, soothing her aching muscles. The heat melted some of the tension from her body, though not from her heart. She lingered there a long time before rinsing herself under the shower.
After drying off, she stepped into the attached wardrobe. Instead of her own clothes, she reached for Fernando’s shirt. It swallowed her frame, falling to mid-thigh. She lifted his perfume and sprayed it lightly across her skin.
His scent wrapped around her.
A soft sigh escaped her lips. Breathing him in steadied the frantic rhythm of her heart.
She returned to the bedroom, curled into a small ball on his side of the bed, and hugged his pillow tightly to her chest.
“Please come back, Fernando,” she whispered to the moonlight streaming through the window.
Sleep claimed her soon after.
—
Sometime in the middle of the night, heat crept through her body.
Warm.
Then hotter.
Too hot.
Sweat dampened her skin. Her breathing turned shallow as the warmth intensified.
Suddenly, her body jerked when she felt something between her legs.
A low, primal growl vibrated through the room.
Hot breath fanned against her sensitive flesh, and her eyes flew open.
A cry of pleasure tore from her throat as sparks ignited through her body the moment a tongue dragged over her most intimate place.
Her head snapped downward and she froze.
Familiar green eyes stared up at her from between her thighs.
Her breath vanished. Her heart stopped just for a second before it began pounding wildly against her ribs.
“F-Fernando…” she breathed.
He hummed against her core in response, the vibration sending shockwaves through her.
His large hands gripped her thighs firmly, holding her open as he devoured her like a starving man, as if he had been denied her for years.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, clutching tightly.
Her cries mingled with his groans, filling the room.
“Fuck… my doll,” he growled hoarsely. “I fucking missed you.”
He sucked harder, relentless, and her back arched off the mattress. The orgasm crashed over her with brutal force. She collapsed against the bed, gasping for air, her body trembling in the aftermath.
Her eyes squeezed shut.
Tears burned behind her lids.
It had to be a dream. A hallucination born of longing. But it felt too real. Too vivid.
“I’m d-dreaming,” she whimpered.
A deep, throaty chuckle answered her.
She froze.
She felt the mattress shift as he moved. Then he was beside her.
Her chin trembled when his large hand cupped her cheek.
The sparks were still there.
With shaking fingers, she laid her smaller hand over his, terrified he would dissolve into nothing.
He didn’t.
He remained.
Her eyes flew open, wide and disbelieving.
The next second, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to him with all her strength.
He chuckled again, his chest vibrating beneath her, and pulled her tightly into his embrace.
But the moment her baby bump pressed against him, he stilled.
Completely.
His hand slid down to her stomach.
He tensed sharply.
The duvet had been bunched there earlier, hiding it. He hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t scented it.
His fingers spread gently over the curve.
“Ana…?” he questioned, voice rough, confused.
Sofía pulled back just enough to look at him.
Tears shimmered in her eyes as she placed her hand over his, which rested on her belly.
His green gaze snapped to hers.
With trembling lips and glassy eyes, she nodded.
He sucked in a sharp breath.