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Theon sat in a chair positioned beside the bed. He remained quiet most days. Though, to Naia’s surprise, he entered the room one afternoon offering her a carton of chocolate ice cream—a form of therapy Naia had overheard Akane informing him of before leaving for school that morning. Naia refused to accept it, but the god was more stubborn than she, unwilling to move out of the TV view until she took it.

“You cannot go on this way, Lady Naia,” Theon mumbled as the credits for the movie rolled on the screen.

Naia rested against the headboard, draining the breath from her lungs. The cold carton of unopened ice cream numbed her hand as she held it in her lap. “I know,” she replied.

She was missing all the small, blissful moments. Ignoring the tremors and tugs of her child in her womb, the nights snuggled in bed with Ronin, whatever laughter she overheard from the kitchen during dinner. Life did not pause for her to digest unsettling news, unfortunately. She needed to pick herself up and move on.

She did what she did best and tucked the issue in the furthest corner of her mind. Then, she climbed out of bed and carried herself into the bathroom to shower.

When her mind strayed into the darkness, she reminded herself of her promise to savor the present moment.

A month had gone by and Ronin laid across her chest, ear pressed to her sternum, and she wasn’t the least bit ashamed he overheard the satisfied anthem of her heartbeat. A melody that often played after him being inside of her.

The dim light of the TV streamed across his profile. His mussed strands rested against the bare skin of her chest as he inhaled long and slow to catch his breath. A rosy tint to his cheeks. While endurance was one of his many wonderful qualities, he was still a mortal.

His chest was snug against the side of her swollen belly, the thrumming of his own heartbeat echoing in her ribcage.

A primitive pride budded in her to feel it. Ronin, a man with a deadly power and artful precision, losing control of himself because of her. It filled her with a smugness she could easily admit to, but it was also knowing how nobody would ever listen to his heartbeat so intimately.

He nudged his nose against the flat plane of her sternum, his lips stroking the skin of her breast as his heavy-lidded eyes flickered up to meet hers.

She brushed his bangs from his face and tucked the strand behind his ear. “What are you thinking about?” she asked as he continued to watch her intently.

At the sound of her voice, a small kick shuddered through her stomach.

Ronin’s lips twitched, a subtle indication he had noticed it.

Naia grinned, although it was nothing new. In moments after a long silence, when she or Ronin spoke, Ash usually tumbled around or threw a kick in reaction to their voices.

“I was thinking about where I was a year ago,” he said.

“Which was?”

“Cooking alone in my apartment.”

She gave him a gentle look of understanding. A year ago, she wasted away in her bedchamber, alone.

Her fingers trailed down his cheek. “How does it feel to think you will have a noisy infant soon?”

A spark of happiness touched his features as he smiled. “And a goddess who can’t seem to keep her fingers out from underneath knives? I cannot wait.”

She huffed out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I am not as natural with a blade as my brother.”

Ronin snorted, drawing a path up the side of her torso to her breasts. He never found her Malik comments as amusing as she did.

Naia breathed in deeply. Ronin’s head rode the motion of her chest rising and falling. “I miss Violet,” she murmured.

“Me too.” He grinned a little. “She’s probably sipping pina coladas and making friends with introverted souls in the Land of the Dead.”

The image brought a sad smile to her face.

She distracted herself from the ache awakening in her chest by combing her fingers through Ronin’s strands. “What made you decide to form the Blood Heretics?”

He continued to trace along her ribcage. “The first people I met in the city were Avi, Theon, Damian, Noah, Vi, and…” he let out a sigh, “Jules. She was Damian’s sister. We were all friends. One of Finnian’s ghouls killed her.”

Knots formed in Naia’s stomach, and her fingers ceased their movement in his hair. “Oh.”

Ronin’s fingertips traveled over her ribcage and to the side of her breast. “The ghouls were taking over, and after Jules died, we had enough. So, we started the Blood Heretics. It split apart the city. Witches either sided with Finnian or us.”