Regis
Six a.m. I woke to the pre–dawn silence of my own room, my first conscious thought reaching through the bond to sense Eileen’s state in the room next door. Her breathing came slow and even, deep with genuine rest, and relief washed through me so intensely that Valdor stirred with a pleased rumble. She was actually in a deep sleep.
1 lay still, staring at the ceiling as my wolf pushed at my restraint with a low whine. Go to her. Check on our mate. Make sure she’s comfortable.
“She needs rest, I murmured aloud, as if speaking would make the directive more binding. “We promised to give her space.”
Just to look. Just to be sure.
The internal argument lasted a full ten minutes, Valdor’s insistence wearing against my resolve like water on stone. Finally I forced myself out of bed, channeling the restless energy into something productive. If I couldn’t be near her, I could at least ensure everything was ready when she woke.
The kitchen was cool and quiet, morning light just beginning to filter through the eastern windows. I tied on an apron and set to work. Oatmeal with honey,
the grains simmering slowly to achieve the perfect soft texture. Whole wheat bread toasted to golden brown. Chicken strips stewed until they fell apart at
the touch of a fork. Fresh berries arranged in a small bowl. And the herbal tea, a digestive blend I’d researched specifically for early pregnancy, steeped to
precisely the right strength.
My hands moved with the same precision I applied to combat drills, but my attention kept drifting to the stairs. I glanced up every few minutes, listening for
the sound of her door opening, the soft pad of her feet on the steps. Each time I caught myself, I forced my focus back to the task at hand, but Valdor’s
anticipation hummed beneath my skin like a low current.
Seven o’clock came and went. Then eight. I checked the bond again–still sleeping, her presence warm and peaceful. Good. She needed this. When had she
last slept past dawn without anxiety jolting her awake?
But by eight–fifteen, I was watching the clock with growing concern of a different sort. I had a first–period combat training session at eight–thirty. I’d planned to drive her to class myself, to see her safely to the healing building before heading to the training grounds. Now she was still asleep, and I faced
an impossible choice.
Wake her? Force her out of the first real rest she’d had in weeks?
Or let her sleep and abandon my own responsibilities?
I reached out through the pack bond, focusing on the familiar thread that led to Kieran. His response came almost immediately, his mental voice thick with amusement. “This had better be important, Regis. It’s barely past eight.”
‘I need you to cover my first training session.”
A pause. Then laughter rippled through the connection, warm and knowing. “Oh? Couldn’t resist, could you? New mate period does tend to override even your legendary self–control–”
“It’s not what you’re thinking. I cut him off, jaw tight even though he couldn’t see my expression. She’s sleeping Really sleeping, for the first time since 1 stopped, unwilling to detail her weeks of anxiety even to my closest friend. I don’t want to wake her
The teasing note in Kieran’s presence softened. “Ah. I see. Another pause. Alright, I’ll handle your little wall pups for the morning But you owe me.”
“I know. Thank you.”
1/2
2:38 pm P p p p
Chapter 42
The link dimmed as he withdrew, leaving only the faint echo of his presence. I stayed where I was, breakfast long prepared but cooling on the table.
Nine forty–five. Less than an hour before her healing theory class.
I couldn’t wait any longer.
I climbed the stairs, each step measured and deliberate, and stopped outside her door. My hand hovered over the wood for a long moment while I wrestled down Valdor’s insistent demand to simply open the door, to see her, to confirm with my own eyes that she was well. Instead I knocked, three soft raps, and
waited.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.

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