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I wake in our bed. Fenrother is sprawled on his back next to me, still clothed, and he snores quietly. I suspect he’s been watching over me and will insist he’s been awake all this time when he finally snorts himself into consciousness. I brush a kiss over his cheek because he is the absolute cutest when he sleeps, and one side of his mouth quirks into a soft smile.

But he doesn’t wake.

I slip off the bed and remove my dress, pulling on a comfortable, warm nightgown instead and wrapping myself in a large fur. The castle’s Duegar have left a pot of hot coffee and some fresh baked goods on a tray in the window.

I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed this place as I sit and sip my drink. Not just Fenrother, but the castle too.

A place I can call home.

As long as it’s what he wants.

My stomach rumbles and I rub at it. There is most definitely a bump, which admittedly I wasn’t expecting so early, but as Igot little to eat in Queen Mab’s less than tender care, despite the best attentions of the Duegar, it can only be due to one thing.

I am pregnant.

I’m going to have Fenrother’s child.

I’m going to have our child.

“Mate,” Fenrother rumbles, sliding in to the window seat next to me, his hair mussed and eyes half lidded with sleep. “What are you doing out of bed?” His voice is like sin spread like hot butter, decedent and warm.

“Breakfast,” I say, holding up the cup of coffee.

He smells amazing, like cereal and spice, whereas I have to smell like Warden’s withers. He takes the cup from my hands and downs it in one.

“In my bed, under me, is the only place I expect you to be for the next one hundred years,” he growls, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth as he puts the mug down.

“A hundred years?” I raise my eyebrows, struggling to contain my smile. “Why only a hundred?”

“Forever then.”

“And when are we going to eat?” I tease.

“I will feed you,” Fenrother growls.

“And when are we going to bathe?”

“I will bathe you.” His eyes flare with all their holographic beauty. “I will fill you with my pizzle, and then I will clean you out. Thoroughly.”

“Thoroughly?” I squeak, heat rushing to my core.

“Thoroughly,” Fenrother says emphatically.

With a single claw, he reaches out and slits my nightshirt from the collar to the hem.

“Hey, I liked that!” I grumble.

“The wardrobe will make you more,” he rasps. “I want to see you.”

He peels back the destroyed nightgown, and his eyes rake over my body, landing on my rounded stomach. The strangled noise he makes in the back of his throat is only made better by his cock bursting from his pants. Fenrother groans, fisting himself, eyes remaining steadfastly locked on my stomach.

“Ripe,” he forces past his fangs. “Ripe with my young.”

FENROTHER

My senses are fit to burst with all the delights my mate has to offer. Her belly might be filled, but my instinct is to mate her and mate her often. This little mate needs constant attention, and she will get it without any question, fear, or favour.

I’m going to enjoy every single second. In fact, I might decide not to let her leave the bed at all while she grows our young. That way I get to taste her and mate her constantly.