breathing evenly. Jesus. I hug her against me and run a hand over her arms and legs, then her swollen belly, trying to figure out what’s wrong. Do pregnant women faint? Is that a thing? Is there a problem with the baby?
Our baby?
Full of worry and no answers, I scoop her up into my arms and carry her to the bedroom. I lay her gently on the bed and then rush back to the bathroom, wet a face towel, and bring it back to the bedroom. I press it on her brow and check the pulse in her wrist.
It’s not racing. If anything, it’s sluggish. She’s not taking good care of herself, then. My protective wolf instinct rises fiercely. I’m here now, and I’ll take care of her. I press the wet cloth to her forehead again, and then decide I need to feed my mate.
I race downstairs and raid the kitchen. What I see in the fridge is a little surprising. In addition to juices and the usual sweets, there’s a lot of red meat. A lot. It sets me to thinking, and I put a skillet on the stove, crank it up to full blast, and pull out a package of sirloin steaks.
By the time I have the steak seared into the barest version of ‘rare’, I’ve grabbed a bottle of water, a protein bar, and some pickles, because I don’t know what pregnant ladies like. I might be all wrong about the red-meat thing, but maybe not. I fill a plate, grab the waters, and then head upstairs.
As soon as I open the door to the bedroom, Savannah is sitting up in bed, looking at me in bleary confusion. She’s utterly beautiful, and it makes my heart stop anew when her gaze focuses on me.
“What happened?”
I sit next to the bed and hand her the plate with the rare, bloody steak. “You fainted.”
“I did?” She looks shocked, but stares at the steak, and I can hear her stomach rumble.
“You did,” I agree and nudge the plate toward her again. “Eat.”
“Fork?”
“Didn’t bring one. You can use your fingers. I won’t judge ya.”
She lifts the steak delicately to her mouth and takes a bite. I watch with satisfaction as she scarfs the entire thing down in less than a minute, and hand her a bottle of water as she licks her fingers.
“I’m sorry I fainted,” she tells me, a small grimace on her full lips. “I don’t know what happened.”
“Have you been feeling bad lately?” There’s so many things that can go wrong with a pregnancy and I don’t know enough about them. I feel fucking helpless. “What can I do?”
She shifts on the bed and puts her hands to her lower back, stretching. Her breasts are swollen and full, and jesus. I thought she was a dream before, but her pregnancy body is utterly beautiful. Those gorgeous tits would overflow my hands—
“I’ve been feeling fine, actually,” she says, distracting me away from my dirty thoughts. A guilty look crosses her face. “Maybe I shouldn’t have shifted and did a run tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Dr. Lamb says it’s not good for pregnant shifters.”
I snort. The doctor’s an otter and otters are, well, jackasses. “Dr. Lamb’s an idiot. I’ve never heard of that crap before. My ma used to shift all the time when she was pregnant with Gracie. Never did her any harm.”
“Well it’s not as if I can ask a regular baby doctor, can I?” She glares at me.
Thinking about my long-gone mother actually makes me think of something else. “What have you been eating lately?”
She licks her lips. “I’m eating just fine, you know. The doctor said I’m gaining too much weight and I need to cut it back.”
“Bullshit. You’re gorgeous.”
Her startled gaze flies to my face. “Thank you.”
Her praise warms me. She’s my mate, and I’m going to take care of her, damn it. I tuck the blankets close around her. “You finish drinking that bottle of water and I’m going to be back soon. I’m going to get a few things for you at the grocery store. You stay here and take a nap, okay?”
Savannah shakes her head. “I should get up. I need to clean—“
I put a hand to
Our baby?
Full of worry and no answers, I scoop her up into my arms and carry her to the bedroom. I lay her gently on the bed and then rush back to the bathroom, wet a face towel, and bring it back to the bedroom. I press it on her brow and check the pulse in her wrist.
It’s not racing. If anything, it’s sluggish. She’s not taking good care of herself, then. My protective wolf instinct rises fiercely. I’m here now, and I’ll take care of her. I press the wet cloth to her forehead again, and then decide I need to feed my mate.
I race downstairs and raid the kitchen. What I see in the fridge is a little surprising. In addition to juices and the usual sweets, there’s a lot of red meat. A lot. It sets me to thinking, and I put a skillet on the stove, crank it up to full blast, and pull out a package of sirloin steaks.
By the time I have the steak seared into the barest version of ‘rare’, I’ve grabbed a bottle of water, a protein bar, and some pickles, because I don’t know what pregnant ladies like. I might be all wrong about the red-meat thing, but maybe not. I fill a plate, grab the waters, and then head upstairs.
As soon as I open the door to the bedroom, Savannah is sitting up in bed, looking at me in bleary confusion. She’s utterly beautiful, and it makes my heart stop anew when her gaze focuses on me.
“What happened?”
I sit next to the bed and hand her the plate with the rare, bloody steak. “You fainted.”
“I did?” She looks shocked, but stares at the steak, and I can hear her stomach rumble.
“You did,” I agree and nudge the plate toward her again. “Eat.”
“Fork?”
“Didn’t bring one. You can use your fingers. I won’t judge ya.”
She lifts the steak delicately to her mouth and takes a bite. I watch with satisfaction as she scarfs the entire thing down in less than a minute, and hand her a bottle of water as she licks her fingers.
“I’m sorry I fainted,” she tells me, a small grimace on her full lips. “I don’t know what happened.”
“Have you been feeling bad lately?” There’s so many things that can go wrong with a pregnancy and I don’t know enough about them. I feel fucking helpless. “What can I do?”
She shifts on the bed and puts her hands to her lower back, stretching. Her breasts are swollen and full, and jesus. I thought she was a dream before, but her pregnancy body is utterly beautiful. Those gorgeous tits would overflow my hands—
“I’ve been feeling fine, actually,” she says, distracting me away from my dirty thoughts. A guilty look crosses her face. “Maybe I shouldn’t have shifted and did a run tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Dr. Lamb says it’s not good for pregnant shifters.”
I snort. The doctor’s an otter and otters are, well, jackasses. “Dr. Lamb’s an idiot. I’ve never heard of that crap before. My ma used to shift all the time when she was pregnant with Gracie. Never did her any harm.”
“Well it’s not as if I can ask a regular baby doctor, can I?” She glares at me.
Thinking about my long-gone mother actually makes me think of something else. “What have you been eating lately?”
She licks her lips. “I’m eating just fine, you know. The doctor said I’m gaining too much weight and I need to cut it back.”
“Bullshit. You’re gorgeous.”
Her startled gaze flies to my face. “Thank you.”
Her praise warms me. She’s my mate, and I’m going to take care of her, damn it. I tuck the blankets close around her. “You finish drinking that bottle of water and I’m going to be back soon. I’m going to get a few things for you at the grocery store. You stay here and take a nap, okay?”
Savannah shakes her head. “I should get up. I need to clean—“
I put a hand to
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