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I curled up in bed beside Etienne. His strong arms held me safe and warm. The last couple months had been blessedly peaceful, doing normal things like decorating the nursery and assembling baby furniture. No gnomes, no crazy exes, no stalkerish wannabe husbands.

“You didn’t have to do the celebration, you know,” he said softly into my hair.

I pulled back to smile at him. “Yes, I did. That was important to your people, and to the witches too.” I rolled onto my back, my now showing belly poking up under the sheet. “And this is going to be a most unusual little baby.”

He smiled and placed a hand over the protruding mount. “Yes, he or she will be.”

The baby kicked, and we both grinned madly, still always fascinated by every movement of our little loved one.

Today’s celebration had been beautiful and the pack and the witches—and the fey had all celebrated together. It gave me huge hope for the future.

“Besides, I did virtually nothing to prepare for the event. I just showed up and looked pregnant.”

Etienne shook his head. “You were the pack’s princess. And you were amazing.”

I wasn’t sure about that, but it was nearly as overwhelming as I imagined it would be.

“I still wonder about the gnomes calling the baby, ‘Prenze.’” We had discovered that prenze meant prince in Italian. So, that was probably what I’d heard when they were whispering to each other.

“Maybe the gnomes were made in Italy.”

I nodded, but that word did still nag at me.

“Baba Yaga told me that the Licornes and that creep Lowell are going to be in the pokey for quite some time. But it will never be long enough for me,” Etienne said, kissing my hair.

“I’m just glad they are gone now. I don’t think they will bother us again.”

He made a noise that said he wasn’t quite as sure. But I wasn’t going to let myself worry about it. I knew my family would always be here and keep me and my children safe.

“So, have we agreed on the name?” Etienne asked suddenly.

This was the biggest issue we were currently contending with at the moment.

“I’m digging my heals in with Wolfgang if it’s a boy,” I said.

“We are not naming a Rougarou Wolfgang,” he insisted. Not for the first time.

“Come on, Wolfie, is so cute.”

“No.”

“Well, I don’t like Maverick. That doesn’t sound royal.”

He slowly nodded. “Yeah, you are right.”

“Thank Goodness.”

I yawned, suddenly very, very tired from all the events of the celebration.

He hugged me closer to him. “We can talk about this tomorrow. You need your rest.”

“I do,” I agreed. “Good night. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

We curled together.

I rubbed my hand over the swell of my belly. “Good night, Wolfgang.”

Beside me, Etienne groaned, but didn’t argue.

I smiled into the dark. Wolfie, it is.