TARYN POV “These are prenatal vitamins. You need to take one with food every day. If they’re too much to deal with — you know, because of morning sickness — we can look at trying a gummy vitamin or a powder option that you blend into a smoothie, but Dr. Russo recommends at least trying the pill form first.” I nod and take the bottle of vitamins from the nurse, adding them to the bag she brought me. It’s filled with brochures and pamphlets about prenatal care and tests, and a special werewolf prenatal care packet that is filled with information specific to werewolf pregnancies. “Dr. Russo wants to see you again in a few days to review the results of the blood work — the sex of the baby and its alpha blood status, plus anything else we find. And then you’ll come in every four weeks until you’re twenty-eight weeks pregnant, then every other week until you’re thirty-six weeks pregnant, and then every week until you deliver.” I nod again. I have said little since she came back to discha

TARYN POV When my eyes open again, I’m alone in the bed, curled up in the spot Reid slept in, my face buried into his pillow. I pop up, my eyes searching the room, scanning it to find any trace of him. I vaguely remember curling into his side at some point during the night, sort of recall his arms wrapping around me and holding me as we both drifted back to sleep. But the bathroom light is off, and the only hint he was even here is his black blanket still on the bed, his shirt on the armchair in the corner, and the lingering scent of him on the bedding and in the air. The frosty morning air nips at my skin as I leave the bed, my bare feet padding across the hardwood flooring. I snatch his blanket off the bed and wrap it around my shoulders, leaving the room bundled in his cozy scent. As soon as I enter the hallway, the scent of pancakes cooking fills my nostrils, mixed with Reid’s full scent and freshly brewed coffee. I peek my head into the kitchen. And there is Reid, his sweatpan

REID POV “Remind me again why we’re outside in the snow?” Taryn asks, her arms crossed against the wind, her body bundled up in a dark green down coat, a tan satin lined beanie with flecks of color — like little sprinkles on a cupcake — atop her head to protect her braids. “Because it’s Winter Wonderland Day,” I reply. And because I need you out of the guest suite while hospitality sets up everything for the rest of our day. “But it’s a snowstorm.” “Oh, come on, Cadet. It’s not that bad right now!” I say, looking around at the heavy snowfall. Okay, so it may be coming down a little harder than just a regular snowy day, even for us as shifters. Especially for someone who came from Southern California and is used to beaches and temperate weather. But my little warrior looks so cute with her grumpy face and puffy jacket and with snowflakes dusting the lengths of her braids. She just stares at me, then turns on her heel and starts towards the house. But I grab her hand and snap her

TARYN POV Quiet. Peaceful. Tranquil. Those are the words I would use to describe Crescent Lake’s packhouse in the early hours of the morning, before anyone is up and about, even with half of Silver Ridge in their midst. The calm settles into me, reaching out and soothing my racing and aching heart and my spiraling mind. Even with the restful night of sleep in Reid’s arms, my worries and anxiety returned full force as soon as I opened my eyes. Not even his touch and scent settled my frazzled nerves, so I’d climbed out of bed with him still asleep, and left him a note, telling him where I went. We’d spent a beautiful day together yesterday; him revealing many sides of himself in less than a twenty-four-hour period, showing me how life with him will be — fun, playful, sexy, and full of love. And now it’s my turn to show him all of me. I descend the last step to the basement, where Luna Haven said I could find a small indoor gym space with treadmills, and make my way down the long, na

REID POV My dad lunges forward from the doorway, his movements strong but erratic, the alcohol affecting his motor control. My gut instinct is to attack first, to fight back and defend myself, but it’s clear he is hallucinating, remembering the attack and mistaking me for the rogue who killed my mom, and I can’t bring myself to hurt my dad, self-defense or not. I dart out of his reach, but his large hands and sharp claws catch my body, slamming me into the cabinets and knocking the air from my lungs. His claws sink into me and slice around and down, pulling me towards the floor, and my chin hits the counter, my teeth snapping down on my tongue and stars bursting into existence behind my eyelids. I groan and spit the blood from my mouth, my hand clutching at the wound wrapping around my abdomen. My vision blurs and my head spins. I can’t see it, but I can feel the deep gashes in my stomach, feel that they’re much deeper than my enhanced shifter healing can handle on its own, without