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“My darling, you smell differently.”

“What?” His screech hurt my ears.

Shit. “But in a good way.”

“Out with it. Why have you been acting like the ass end of a… a… I don’t know… a pig.

Pigs are very clean animals. My beast chimed in at the worst time.

“You’re pregnant.” I hadn’t intended to blurt it out, but I’d messed up so badly I had to tell him it was good news, the best.

“Pregnant? How?”

“I can give you a demonstration.”

My mate slapped my hand away. “I know how babies are made. But how do you know I’m pregnant?”

“Because of your scent.”

He plopped onto the couch, and I crouched before him.

“Your scent has another layer, a tiny sweet hint of an aroma, and this only happens when an omega is pregnant.”

“But you’re familiar with shifter omegas. Humans don’t go around sniffing one another to discover if someone is pregnant.”

And that was one advantage in being a shifter. We had heightened senses.

“Do you remember me telling you I recognized you as my mate the instant we met?”

He nodded.

“I scented you.” I tapped my nose. “My supersonic sense of smell would have discovered you in a crowd.”

“Awww.” He fell into me. “We’d have found one another, even if you consulted about the project with Harold, instead of me.”

“Ummm, aren’t you forgetting something?”

My mate giggled. “I’m getting to that.” He nuzzled my ear. “Pregnant? Are you sure? What if you’re wrong? Should I get a test from the pharmacy to be sure?”

“You can. I won’t be offended, but I’m certain.”

“Then I trust your supersonic nose. Is that why you and your fox were so growly and protective this last week?”

“I guess so.”

I’m proud of you,I told my fox.

Proud of you too, partner.

“You’re carrying something precious.” I patted Joss’s belly. “A baby we made together.” How cool was that?

Joss picked up the coffee I’d brought him earlier, sniffed it, and made a face. “There were signs. I’ve been off coffee for a few days, and I’ve fallen into bed earlier than usual which is why I’m behind on this project.”

He sat at the desk and tapped the keyboard.

“But while I’m doing this, tell me everything about humans impregnated with a baby from a shifter.”

“I don’t know much.” The den elders would have stories. “But the baby has a fifty percent chance of being a shifter.”