“Come in,” Sinclair’s voice was even deeper than usual, and I wondered if I was imagining it. I waited as long as I could bear before going to his rooms, having found some relief from the pent-up sexual tension he'd created in me. Still, I felt far from satisfied. My genitals were swollen and pulsing with need, and I was terrified he’d notice how aroused I was.

The larger problem, however, was exhaustion. I desperately needed rest, especially after missing my usual afternoon nap while preparing for the festival. As my pregnancy progressed, I found it ironic that the closer I got to bringing a baby into the world, the more childlike I seemed to become: overly sensitive, constantly exhausted, picky about food, sick half the time, and struggling with bladder control. Last week, I cried because I’d eaten all my snacks! And now this… I couldn’t sleep alone. I was grumpy because Sinclair hadn’t tucked me in, and I couldn’t fall asleep without him beside me. So, I’d abandoned my pride and gone to him, ready to beg to crawl into his huge, comfy bed.

I poked my head inside and fought back a whimper. His bedside lamp was on, and he was propped up on his elbows, looking expectantly at me with the same dark intensity he always reserved for me. He was shirtless, his chiseled abs glowing in the lamplight, and his dark hair was effortlessly tousled. A swath of scruff covered his powerful jaw, and his green eyes practically glowed in the dim light. It wasn’t fair for anyone to look that good, especially not when I was already squeezing my legs together to relieve the ache his kiss had planted.

“Are you still up?” I asked inanely, apparently forgetting he was clearly awake and staring at me.

“I am.” The corner of Sinclair’s mouth curved upward, and I was reminded of how soft and firm his lips had been on mine. “Is everything okay?”

I slipped the rest of the way inside, leaning against the door until it clicked shut and staring at the ground. “I can’t sleep,” I confessed, wrapping my arms protectively around myself.

Sinclair sat up straighter, frowning with apparent concern. “I can give you a supplement,” he offered. “The doctor left some herbal remedies in case you needed them.”

My heart sank. “No, I don’t want to take something that will leave me groggy tomorrow,” I reasoned, actually impressed with my ability to improvise an excuse so quickly.

“He assured me they wouldn’t have that effect,” Sinclair stated simply, rising from the mattress and approaching me with the lethal grace of his wolf.

“Still, I’ve never tried anything like that. I might have a bad reaction,” I suggested lamely.

“Hmm, well, we wouldn’t want that,” Sinclair murmured, closing the distance between us. “Why can’t you sleep? Are you stressed? You look a bit flushed.” He stroked my cheek, and for the first time, I sensed he might be aware of my arousal. Naturally, this only made me blush deeper. “And your pulse is awfully fast.”

“No, I just couldn’t fall asleep,” I shrugged, feeling more frustrated by the second. Why didn’t he just scoop me up and take me to bed the way he usually did?

Maybe because you told him you wanted to sleep alone and weren’t interested in his affection, the little voice in my head sniped, sounding even more bitter than I felt. You wanted him to respect your wishes, didn’t you?

Oh, shut up, I thought. My conscience had become increasingly vocal since I became pregnant, and it wasn’t very helpful at times like this.

“How about a midnight snack, or some ambient sounds?” Sinclair mused, still petting me.

I leaned my cheek into his hand before I could stop myself. I shook my head pitifully, realizing a few things at once: Sinclair knew exactly what I wanted; he was taking pleasure in suggesting the wrong solutions; and if I wanted to sleep with him, I’d have to ask.

As if reading my mind, Sinclair said, “Just tell me what I can do to help, Ella. And I will.”

I sighed, fighting the urge to stomp on his foot (I remembered how much it had hurt the first time). My next thought was to bite his hand. It was incredibly tempting, but I had no idea where the impulse came from. I’d never even considered biting another person.

Sinclair narrowed his eyes, then smirked, tightening his hold on my cheek. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned, his rich voice full of foreboding—but also amusement, as if he found my bloodthirsty thoughts cute rather than bizarre.

My eyes widened. I was surprised he’d sensed my intentions and annoyed that he’d forbidden them. It honestly made me want to bite him even more, but I was afraid that if I did, he wouldn’t let me sleep with him—and I needed rest more than revenge. “Can I sleep with you?” I finally muttered.

“Of course,” he agreed easily, gathering me into his arms bridal style. I snuggled in, leaning my cheek against his chest.

I felt compelled to make an excuse as he carried me to the king-sized bed. “Thank you. I think the baby has a hard time settling without you.”

Sinclair hummed softly, placing his hand on my belly before I could move away—not that running away would have done any good. His brow arched a moment later, and I felt vulnerable with him standing over me. “The baby is sleeping, Ella.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say and slid under the covers, turning my back to the intimidating alpha. I waited for him to pull me close, but for once, he let me keep space between us. My frustration turned to crankiness. He was doing this on purpose!

Rolling onto my other side, I found Sinclair watching me with one of his knowing looks. He was expectant, waiting for my next move. I glared at him, and he smiled, extending an arm. The message was clear: I could have what I wanted, but I had to take it myself.

Grumbling, I moved closer until our bodies were touching, and Sinclair wrapped his arms around me. I sighed with relief, and a shiver-inducing growl sounded in my ear. “Would you like me to purr for you?”

“If you want to,” I answered noncommittally. I thought he’d make me ask for this too, but it seemed I’d paid my penance. A steady vibration began in his chest, and I buried my face against his shoulder, breathing in his addictive scent. I fell fast asleep.

The next night was day two of the Solstice Festival. Sinclair and I hadn’t discussed yesterday’s events, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t painfully aware of him whenever he was near. I felt like I had a sixth sense for knowing when he was close, and all my thoughts vanished whenever he gave me one of those hungry stares.

We were both dressed up and preparing to leave the house. I knew part of tonight’s event involved delivering gifts around the city, but I never dreamed Sinclair would have another present for me, especially since I’d given him nothing in return. Before we left, he stopped me and offered me another jewelry box.

“Don’t tell me I’m not finished again,” I joked, gesturing to my necklace. “I’m already wearing your last gift.”

“I know,” he grinned. “This is just a little something extra. I thought it was time we made it official.”

At his urging, I lifted the lid, expecting another pair of earrings. It wasn’t earrings at all. It was a ring—one that stole my breath. A stunning silver band held a gleaming moonstone at its center, surrounded by tiny emeralds. It was unmistakable—an engagement ring.