I’m holding my breath for the second time this evening, but this time it’s not to avoid bad smells or illness. I’m waiting to see if Sinclair will be honest with me about his ex-wife, or if he’ll lie to me again. I expect him to disappoint me, though I don't believe he has bad intentions. On the contrary, I think he's trying too hard to protect me—but he's wrong if he thinks keeping me in the dark will make me safer. It will only put me more at risk. I don’t want to be blindsided again, and after what happened with Mike, I’m especially sensitive to dishonesty, however well-intentioned.

He sighs, dropping his hands from my face. His green eyes bore into me, and a muscle flutters in his cheek, betraying his agitation. “Roger wasn’t entirely wrong. Lydia is back because she wants us to try again.”

For a moment, I’m so surprised by his admission that I can’t speak. Simultaneously, my heart sinks and swells. Knowing this hurts, but I’m touched and impressed that Sinclair confided in me. He really does seem to be trying to communicate better, and I appreciate it immensely. As I process my conflicting feelings, I finally grasp his words: “Try again.” I repeat. “For a baby, or as mates?”

“Both,” Sinclair answers simply, shaking his head. “But it’s not going to happen.”

I blink. “Why not?”

“There’s a reason I didn’t go after Lydia when she left,” Sinclair growls, a dark look overtaking his features. “She might have walked out, but our marriage was over long before then.”

“But I thought…” I trail off, remembering Sinclair and Roger’s conflicting statements about mates. Roger made it sound as if fated couples shared an unbreakable bond, but Sinclair described things differently. He said he and Lydia hadn’t been good for each other, that some chosen couples were happier than fated ones. “You’re fated,” I continue, unsure if I believe it or fear the possibility. “Don’t you love her?”

The corner of his mouth twitches into a sad smile, and for a moment I see the boy he once was—a young Sinclair diving headfirst into love without fear, driven by strength and confidence. Now, he looks as though he learned his lesson the hard way, and though some bitterness remains, there’s also acceptance.

“Sometimes, I think the Goddess fates some couples because they need to go through an experience to become the people they’re destined to be, not because she intends them to stay together forever, or even that they’re well-suited,” Sinclair explains thoughtfully. “Sometimes they might be sent to test a chosen couple’s bond, or even to break your heart. There’s always a larger plan, though it’s hard to accept that painful experiences serve any purpose other than torment.”

“I actually find that comforting,” I reply, thinking of my own relationships. “I’ve never believed in fate or destiny… but I’d rather think I spent all those years with Mike for a reason I don’t yet understand, than believe it was all for nothing.”

Sinclair smiles, pressing his hand to my belly. “That’s right. If it weren’t for him, you never would have conceived this baby.” His eyes sparkle with mischief, and his grin widens. “Though I’d still like to let my wolf have a go at him.”

“You didn’t answer me,” I point out, covering his hand with mine. “You didn’t say whether you still love Lydia.”

Sinclair makes a low rumbling sound. “I don’t want to talk about Lydia anymore. I just want to be here with you and this little one.”

I pull my hand away, sensing I’ve crossed a line. It worries me that he won’t answer, but I prefer his silence to untruths or platitudes. Besides, he said he wasn’t getting back together with Lydia, and I’m not confident enough to press him. I know the look of a man who’s finished speaking on a subject, and pushing further will only make him dig in his heels. There will be time to talk about her later.

Sinclair gazes at the bedding piled around me. “It’s only eight o’clock,” he reminds me, his brow furrowing with concern as he sees I’m still wearing my feast dress. “Were you too exhausted to change?”

I flush. “No, I was just really cold after the festival. I couldn’t feel my fingers or toes.”

He tsks, grazing his knuckles over my cheek. “Poor baby, do you feel better now?”

“I did,” I answer, tilting my chin up. “Until you came and untucked me.”

His wolfish smile returns, the one that makes me want to barricade myself before he huffs and puffs and blows my house down. The goosebumps on my arms now have nothing to do with the cold.

“Then let’s warm you up,” Sinclair purrs, before pouncing.

I squeak as he joins me under the covers, and though he only wants to snuggle, I instinctively try to wriggle away. My human instincts don’t need encouragement to run from the big bad wolf. Of course, Sinclair catches me easily, tickling and playfully wrestling until I’m giggling uncontrollably.

I barely notice when he removes my dress, and I don’t complain when he removes his own clothes. Soon we’re both in our underwear, and Sinclair is all around me. The blankets are over our heads, and I can only see the dim glow of his green eyes. “I thought the idea was to warm up,” I say, still laughing.

“Body heat needs skin-to-skin contact to work,” he smirks. “Don’t they teach you humans anything in school?”

“I dunno,” I muse suspiciously. “I think you just like having me naked. Maybe I should take a hot bath instead of letting you take advantage.”

Sinclair makes a low grumbling sound. “First, you aren’t naked, not yet. Second, baths are dangerous; you might need supervision.”

“Dangerous?” I scoff, still giggling.

“Mmm,” he confirms gravely. “Slips, falls, drowning, bath snakes—you definitely need a lifeguard.”

My cheeks hurt from smiling, but I can’t stop. “Did you say bath snakes?”

“Oh yes, we get infestations. They’re terribly venomous,” Sinclair replies, sounding somber and serious.

I love this playful side of him, even though it’s getting too close to the romantic territory I’m avoiding. I can only handle this because it’s dark and he’s behaving himself. If I have to see him undressed—feel his gaze on my body, or—god forbid—if he helps me wash—I’ll be a goner. The idea is enticing, but I have to stay strong; I can’t fall for him.

An idea strikes me. “But if you’re playing lifeguard, who’s going to feed me dinner? I left the feast without eating.”

Sinclair stills, and I know my words worked. He enjoys flirting, but his instincts won’t let me go unfed. He considers it his duty as an alpha and father of my child to ensure we eat, and I only get away with skipping meals if I’m sick. “And I missed my afternoon snack at the feast,” I remind him.

Sinclair growls, “You’re a clever little minx, you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” I murmur.

“Alright, go have your bath,” he sighs, untangling our bodies and rising from the bed. “When you’re warm and clean, I’ll have dinner waiting. Be careful.” He kisses my temple and strides out. “Watch out for snakes.”

Once he’s gone, I flop down on the bed and exhale deeply. “I am in so much trouble.”