Page 32

Kylie

With renewed determination, I pushed myself to clean more around the cabin, reclaiming a sense of control.

Charlotte hovered nearby, ever watchful, insisting on frequent breaks—water, rest, anything to keep me steady.

My stomach had swelled enough that every step had a slight waddle to it.

My lycan did what she could, lending me energy in small doses, just enough to manage the cabin while Charlotte handled the cooking.

The breaks helped, but sometimes, they weren’t optional.

When I felt dizzy and the world succumbed to blurriness, I had no choice but to sit and let it pass.

That feeling was the worst.

I’d be in the middle of something when, without warning, my vision blurred, the room tilted, and my knees wavered beneath me.

It happened often enough that I finally dragged a stool around, keeping it close for when the dizzy spells struck.

Nathaniel had growled about it until I gave in—his frustration barely masking his concern.

“You are going to make my hair go gray, Kylie. When I’m not home, I worry I’ll come back to find you on the floor,” Nathaniel growled during dinner.

“I’m sure it’s a normal pregnancy thing.”

The rich aroma of hunter’s pie filled the air, and my mouth watered at its savory scent.

At least the pup allowed me to enjoy deer, as if she instinctively understood her nature.

The lycan soul within her recognized the food she’d one day hunt for herself.

Charlotte had ground the venison Nathaniel brought home, simmering it in tomato paste, thyme, peas, carrots, and a blend of spices that melded perfectly.

The creamy potatoes and cheese were complemented by a hint of garlic, rounding out the flavor.

I moaned with pleasure when the first bite hit my tongue.

The savory depth and rich creaminess were irresistible, and I couldn’t help but shovel food into my mouth.

I devoured two platefuls before I realized my mistake.

I had stretched my stomach to its limit and immediately felt regret.

The swollen feeling in my stomach made me feel sick.

My stomach lurched, and I feared I was about to throw up again.

I leaned my head back, focusing on steady breaths.

Sometimes it helped; sometimes it didn’t. Thankfully, it worked this time.

“We can move you to your bed, Kylie.”

“No, I’m good here. I think if I move right now, dinner would splatter all over the floor.”

I turned my head toward an oblivious Nathaniel, which was a mistake. A sickening wave rolled through me, and my stomach lurched. I swallowed hard to force it down before it could rise any further.

Nathaniel sighed with enough frustration to fill the space between us.

I could feel the quiet tension and unspoken helplessness simmering beneath his calm exterior.

He wanted to take the pain away and fix what wasn’t working, but there wasn’t anything he could do.

Still, he tried. Over the past few months, he had become more of a father to me than my own ever was, doing everything in his power to ease my burden.

There were few things I could keep down, but when he had the chance, he always brought them home for me.

Lemon cake was my favorite—a surprising comfort.

I had expected the acidity to turn my stomach inside out, but somehow, it never did.

The weight of the meal settled in my stomach, demanding time to digest. If I had to sit here all night, so be it.

But my pup had other ideas. A few sharp kicks to my bladder sent urgency crashing over me.

I clenched my jaw with a steely determination to hold off just long enough to ensure I didn’t lose my dinner onto the floor.

Another kick.

How other females could get through pregnancy astounded me. All the kicking of our pups made the pain from their tiny feet striking my organs and even my ribs unbearable. I spent most of my day sprawled out on the couch so I could endure the kicks from the inside.

Nathaniel leaned in and cleared his throat—a subtle reminder that I had drifted too far into my own thoughts again.

I often lost myself in the quiet hum of my mind until someone pulled me back.

I lifted my head just enough to meet his gaze and found him smiling, patient as ever, waiting for me to return to the moment.

“You need a doctor,” he said. “Maybe they can help you more than you think.”

Charlotte laughed. “There’s no cure for the sickness pregnancy brings on. If anything, they would give her some antacids and call it a day.”

“Then let’s get her some antacids.”

Another laugh rang out. Charlotte and Nathaniel had no children of their own, but as the alpha and luna, they were parents to every pup in the pack, especially Charlotte.

She had told me once how she had been present at countless births, assisting mothers and tending to the nursery.

It was one of her favorite places, a space filled with new life and quiet devotion.

Her experience had given her more knowledge than most—she understood pregnancy in ways that went beyond textbooks and knew which remedies failed before anyone even tried them.

“You know as well as I do that those things don’t work on most females. Even human females struggle with things not working for them when they are pregnant.”

He looked at her, amusement in his eyes. “The female body fascinates me.”

“Of course you’d say that.” She laughed while shaking her head. “We’ve been together for almost a century, and you still say the female body is fascinating.”

“Because it is! You take something as small as sperm and turn it into a child. Your body creates the food for the pup, which is known to make the pup stronger. Your body can create life! Yet, for unknown reasons, your bodies can’t cooperate with certain medications.”

When he framed it that way, it did sound absurd. How could that even make sense? Our bodies could nurture and grow life itself, yet somehow, in other ways, they completely failed us.

“We would be unstoppable if we could grow life, feed them from the same body, and have every medication work like a charm. That’s why the Moon Goddess didn’t allow it.”

I couldn’t help but giggle along. It felt so natural, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed it.

The idea of leaving my new home for something better felt out of reach, a dream too fragile to hold onto.

But the Moon Goddess had guided me when I ran, steering me away from a cruel fate.

I could have been lost, left to struggle on the streets.

Instead, I found Charlotte and Nathaniel.

Or maybe they found me. I wasn’t alone anymore.

My stomach had finally settled enough to convince myself I could make it to the bathroom.

However, my vision faltered when I was halfway there, causing the room to twist and swirl into dizzying spirals.

My body swayed, unsteady, before darkness swallowed me whole.

The last thing I heard was my lycan’s furious roar echoing in my mind.

I found myself in a stark white room when I came to.

There were machines humming quietly around me and an IV taped to my arm.

My friends were on both sides of me, their hands wrapped around mine.

Their heads rested near my legs, and I could hear their soft, steady snores breaking the silence.

I couldn’t help but smile. These two could have easily left me here and slept in their own beds, but they hadn’t.

They stayed and never once left my side.

The realization made my chest tighten with the warmth of their love.

I refused to wake them. After the worry and exhaustion they had faced to get me here, they deserved this rest. It was a quiet reprieve after the chaos. So, I lay still so they could sleep. It was my way of showing gratitude for their unwavering support.

Their eyes snapped open in the dim light.

Together, they pushed themselves up in perfect sync and looked over me for signs of harm.

Worry etched deep into every crease of their faces.

Charlotte’s breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in uneven waves.

When she realized I was whole and unbroken, her eyes brimmed with tears of relief.

“Oh, sweetheart, we were so worried!” Charlotte choked before moving further up on the bed to wrap her arms around my shoulders and pull me into a hug.

“You scared the hell out of us, kid,” Nathaniel blurted out when Charlotte let me go.

Pain was a constant companion. It settled into my muscles like a shadow that never fully dissipated.

By some miracle, it wasn’t there this morning.

There wasn’t a dull ache gnawing at my ribs, and no sharp sting curling along my spine.

I stretched, expecting the familiar pull of soreness, but my body remained pain-free.

Even my lycan was silent, her presence tucked deep within me like a slumbering beast. She never stood still, always thrumming beneath my skin and ready to snap to attention at the faintest sign of danger.

She had remained on high alert for years due to the suffocating grip of my father’s rule.

I hadn’t realized she could drift into sleep, that she could trust the quiet enough to let go.

“What happened?” My voice was hoarse from dryness.

From what I could see, I had been here for a while. My throat felt raw, as if I had been swallowing sandpaper, despite the steady drip of fluids from the IV. The urgent and unrelenting thirst clawed at me. I wanted to drink an entire gallon of water in one breath.