Ella dreamt she was on a boat, gently rocking in a starlit sea. She gazed at the night sky, bathed in the full moon's light. Her belly swelled with her pup, and Sinclair was beside her, telling stories of shifters—myths and legends of his people. His voice soothed her, carrying her along the waves, until he described their future life together with their baby. He painted a picture of perfection: a happy family of three, she and the child pampered and cared for while he ruled his empire, wanting for nothing.

It seemed too good to be true, and only upon waking did she understand why. Opening her eyes, she saw tears on her cheeks. She was rocking, but not in a boat. Sinclair was carrying her from the car, carefully trying not to wake her.

She must have fallen asleep, she realized dazedly.

"You don't have to carry me," she murmured, hoping her emotion sounded like grogginess.

"Hush now," he crooned. "I don't mind. Just rest."

Another time she might have argued, but sleepiness and the comfort of his arms won her over. She snuggled in. To her surprise, Sinclair leaned down, inhaling her hair deeply. "You smell more like a wolf every day," he said. "The baby must be very healthy."

This made her smile. "Will I feel it move soon, if the pregnancy is shorter?"

"After a couple of months, yes," he confirmed.

This was still sooner than human babies quickened, but she felt impatient. "Hmph, that's so long to wait."

Sinclair chuckled. "Maybe, but it will be worth it, sweet Ella."

"Dodo shifter pregnancies ever have complications?" she finally asked, voicing a hidden worry. It had been on her mind since the doctor mentioned the baby's slow development, but Sinclair's confidence had reassured her.

"Rarely," he answered. "But it happens. That's why I'm being cautious—I don't want anything to happen to either of us."

She scoffed, pressing her nose to his chest and inhaling his scent. "I think you just like telling people what to do—baby or not."

Sinclair's wolf flashed in his eyes, but he smirked. "Keep it up, you naughty thing, and I'll show you what 'strict' really is." Before she could respond, he carried her into her bedroom, striding toward her bed as if to tuck her in.

"No, I want a shower first," she objected.

"Are you sure? It's very late," Sinclair asked.

She nodded. "I hate going to bed feeling unclean." After a childhood of often feeling dirty, it had become a habit.

Sinclair helped with her dress zipper, and within minutes she was under a steaming shower, feeling herself shed the day's grime and finery. The makeup and elaborate clothes felt like a different person; it was a relief to be free of them.

She was rinsing shampoo from her hair when she heard a strange growl—violent and close. It wasn't Sinclair, and it wasn't through her mental link with the baby. She knew, somehow, that danger was near. Had someone entered the bathroom? she wondered frantically, peering through the fogged glass. How had they gotten past Sinclair's guards?

The snarl sounded again, and she cried out in fear. Before ten seconds passed, the door burst open and Sinclair appeared, his wolf glowing in his eyes. "Ella, are you alright? What's wrong?"

He reached the shower, opened the glass door to dispel the steam, and found her curled in a ball. "I swear someone was in here with me," she confessed shakily. "I could hear growling and snarling, but I couldn't see through the steam."

Sinclair's body tensed as he scented the air. "I don't smell anything," he said after a moment, "but I'll have the guards search anyway." He briefly left to bark orders, instructing them to search the grounds. While he was gone, she wrapped a towel around herself, trying to calm her trembling.

As soon as he returned, he pulled her into his arms. "It's okay, Ella, you're safe," he promised.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me," she apologized.

"It's okay, it's probably just stress," he reasoned. "But if you don't feel safe, you can sleep in my room tonight."

She nodded against his bare chest—she realized for the first time he must have been preparing for bed himself.

Her nerves were so frayed she didn't object when he lifted her into his arms, nor did she think about getting nightclothes. She simply let him carry her to his room. When he set her down, she realized she hadn't brought anything to sleep in. She paused, considering whether to retrieve something or ask to borrow it, when Sinclair's voice interrupted. "Oh no!"

"What's wrong?" she asked anxiously, looking for a threat.

But his attention was on her, and she suddenly became painfully aware that she was only wearing a towel.

"You washed off my scent," he frowned, moving closer.

"So?" she murmured. "I'm only going to sleep. No one will be smelling me."

He shook his head. "We can't take that risk."

"What risk?" she murmured, feeling her blood heat.

"If I have to leave early for the office, there won't be time to mark you before I go," Sinclair explained. "My wolf is insistent. It needs to be tonight."

"Your wolf?" she squeaked.

Sinclair nodded. "It's for the baby's protection. He won't let either of us rest until it's done."

He towered over her, and she felt herself getting aroused. The previous times he'd marked her had been intensely arousing. "But I'm naked," she whispered.

His green eyes flashed, sending a shiver down her spine. "Do you want me to get you some underthings?"

She gnawed her lip. She didn't want him to leave, and the idea of being completely naked with him was incredibly intriguing. She knew it didn't mean he desired her romantically; nudity was normal for shifters, and while he might find her attractive, she was still human. He could never truly want her.

She shook her head, hoping not to embarrass herself. Sinclair nodded, reaching for her towel. She instinctively clutched it, backing away. He arched a brow. "Second thoughts?"

"No," she responded defiantly, unwrapping the towel and revealing herself completely.

His dark gaze swept over her, giving her goosebumps. Sinclair stripped off his own clothes, and it took all her willpower not to look below his waist. He backed her into the bed, and as her thighs hit the mattress, she climbed onto it, still inching away but too afraid to turn her back on him. She knew he would never hurt her, but his wolf was in control, and she felt his power deeply.

She shifted backward, and suddenly Sinclair was on the bed, on all fours, stalking her with lethal grace until she was pinned beneath him, feeling more vulnerable than ever. A low purr rumbled in his chest as his green eyes met hers, and somehow she felt soothed, even as he lowered his face to her neck and inhaled her scent. His chest brushed hers, and she was embarrassed to realize her nipples were hard.

"Are you cold?" he rumbled in her ear.

She nodded, unable to admit how aroused she was.

"Mmm, let's see if we can do something about that," he offered, pressing his body against hers. His hands stroked her, and it was like the previous times he'd marked her, only even more intimate.