Chapter Text
Sienna
A few days had passed since she’d found out she was pregnant.
Their baby had been conceived about a month ago—unplanned, but not exactly avoided either. The week of their wedding, Ronan had gone into a rut.
He’d been very… vigorous.
A smile ghosted over her lips, heat curling low in her belly at the memory. Very vigorous indeed.
If someone had told her she’d turn into a shameless nymphomaniac on her honeymoon, she would’ve laughed herself hoarse. Sienna St. James—bookworm, librarian, late bloomer—had never thought of herself as particularly sexual. And yet one rumbling growl from her husband had her body melting, her pulse tripping, her mind chanting his name like a prayer. Ronan sets her blood on fire. A fire that only he can put out.
They’d barely come up for air that week.
A soft chuckle snapped her out of the memory. She blinked, focusing on the older woman across from the desk. Nora's kind eyes sparkled with amusement.
Sienna’s face went crimson. Oh, great. She forgot about the mind-reading doctor.
Meeting Kyle had been a blessing. The wily fox had a way of grounding her, even in the most stressful situations, and their bond—magical, deeper than friendship, something woven into her soul—had grown into something that felt like family.
When she met his mother, Sienna felt that same pull, an immediate connection that went deeper than simple introductions. It hadn’t felt like meeting someone new, but like finding a long-lost friend.
When Nora declared herself her mother, warmth had bloomed in Sienna’s chest. But it wasn’t until everything went crazy that she truly understood what it meant to have a mother in her corner.
Still… no matter how close she felt to her, she wasn’t ready to have Nora reading her thoughts while she was thinking about having wild sex with her husband.
She would never be ready for that!
Heat crept up her neck again at the thought. “I—uh—”
Nora’s laughter filled the cozy office, rich and knowing. The scent of peppermint tea and antiseptic mingled in the air, oddly comforting. Pale afternoon light streamed through the blinds, striping the walls where framed degrees and anatomy charts hung. One, a prominent diploma, gleamed under the light: Dr. Nora McKenzie, M.D.
“You don’t have to worry,” Nora said, leaning back in her chair, her teacup balanced gracefully between her fingers. “I know that face. It’s the same one you had when you came back from your honeymoon. I make a point to avoid your thoughts when you start glowing like that.”
Sienna groaned softly, covering her face with both hands. “Geez, please tell me I wasn’t projecting.”
“Only a little.” The doctor winked over the rim of her cup. “But don’t worry, sweetheart. Every mated pair goes through that phase. We have all been avoiding getting inside your head.”
Sienna let out a mortified laugh. “Im glad I haven't been able to mind-link with the whole pack, or else I would die of shame.¨
Nora gave her a soft reassuring smile ¨You're doing just fine.¨
¨I’ll… keep working on my shielding.”
“Eventually, it’ll be as easy as breathing.”
Sienna nodded, tracing her finger along the desk’s smooth edge. The wood was warm from the sunlight, grounding her. Still, something heavy pressed in her chest.
Nora noticed instantly. She always did. “Alright, out with it. What’s got you so tense?”
Sienna hesitated, eyes darting to the steam curling from her tea. “How did you know?”
“Because,” Nora said, setting her cup aside and crossing one leg over the other, “three days ago you found out you’re pregnant. And now you’re here alone, without Alpha Ronan standing guard like an armed tank in a suit. That tells me something’s up.”
That earned a small laugh. “You’re not wrong.”
Nora tilted her head, waiting.
Sienna exhaled slowly, fingers curling in her lap. “I’m… worried.”
Her voice dropped, soft as confession. “I can feel something growing inside me—and not just the baby. It’s different. A pull. A hum. Like there’s a current running under my skin that wasn’t there before.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, unsure if it was fear or awe tightening her chest. “I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy… or if it’s because I’m a Color. But it feels like something’s awakening.”
Sienna’s gaze drifted to the window. The afternoon wind whispered through the trees outside, the light shifting like the pulse of something alive. Beneath her palm, her chest felt warm, almost alive—like a heartbeat that didn’t belong to her alone.
“It’s normal to feel off while pregnant,” Nora said gently, watching her. “Your hormones are going to be all over the place. And with you being a Color… Well, we’re charting new territory. There’s no textbook for you, sweetie.”
Sienna’s hand drifted instinctively to her stomach, the faintest warmth pulsing beneath her palm. The gesture was both protective and grounding.
Nora took a sip of her tea and smiled, soft and reassuring. “Relax. The baby’s fine. We’ll keep an eye on your progress, but so far, everything looks perfectly healthy.”
Sienna arched a brow. “Aside from the developing too fast part.”
“That’s normal for a shifter pregnancy,” Nora reminded her, setting her cup down with a soft clink.
A moment of silence, then Sienna put down her tea and sighed. “He’s here.”
The older woman blinked. “Already?”
Before Nora could stand, the door slammed open hard enough to rattle the frame. The hinges gave a protesting creak.
Both women turned their heads to look at the entrance.
Ronan filled the doorway like a thundercloud—tall, broad, every inch of him radiating tightly leashed panic. His eyes glowed a dangerous shade of red. Fangs gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and his chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths, like he’d run a marathon.
His tie was crooked. His hair, usually combed with military precision, looked like he’d been raking his fingers through it the entire way here. That small, human detail punched straight through her heart.
Sienna’s guilt prickled. He only did that when he was stressed out of his mind.
“Alpha Ronan, I…”
He crossed the room in three strides, gathered Sienna into his arms before Nora could finish a single sentence, and turned back toward the hall without breaking pace.
“Oh my—,” Sienna mumbled against his shoulder. “You could at least say hi to Nora.”
The doctor’s voice followed them, amused. “Remember to bring her back for her appointment in two weeks, Alpha!”
Ronan didn’t slow down.
The clinic’s halls fell silent as they passed. Nurses and patients stepped out of the way immediately, some bowing their heads in respect and nodding approvingly, others smiling with a kind of fond exasperation. Everyone in the pack knew what it meant when the Alpha was on high alert with his mate in his arms.
Sienna felt the rumble of his chest against her cheek—his heartbeat thunderous, his scent a mix of cedarwood, smoke, and adrenaline. He was trembling, though he’d never admit it.
“I’m fine, you know,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck to steady herself as he strode down the corridor. “Perfectly intact. Not a scratch on me.”
He didn’t answer. His jaw flexed, muscle ticking.
Before, she’d thought she understood shifter instincts. She’d read the books, heard the lectures, lived among them for months. But nothing—nothing—had prepared her for the way her husband’s protectiveness had escalated after the pregnancy. He was so paranoid now, that it made his previous possessiveness seem normal in comparison.
He saw danger in everything: slick floors, staircases, loud noises, even her own shoes… Walking was out of the question.
Everyone was a threat. Every object, a hazard.
She knew it wasn’t deliberate—his wolf simply refused to take chances with their pup. He couldn't help it, it was instinct.
Sienna sighed softly and nuzzled closer into the crook of his neck, her voice a gentle murmur meant to soothe the storm beneath his skin. “I’m fine, honey. Really.”
Ronan exhaled a shaky breath, the tension in his arms easing just enough for her to feel his heart begin to steady. His grip stayed firm, though—possessive, unyielding—as if letting go wasn’t an option.
And for him, it wasn’t.
_____________________________________
Ronan
Ronan tucked Sienna carefully into the car’s backseat, like she was made of spun glass. The leather creaked under her weight as he adjusted the seatbelt over her shoulder, checking it twice before pulling a soft wool blanket from the trunk and spreading it over her legs.
Sienna arched a brow. “Really?”
He crouched beside the open door, his massive frame blocking the sunlight. “You left,” he said, voice low, accusing.
“I came to the clinic,” she replied evenly.
“Alone.”
Her lips curved, sharp with amusement. “With the Enforcers you secretly have following me,” she countered. “I’m in our own lands, honey, nothing is going to happen. Besides, it’s not like I can’t take care of myself.”
His jaw flexed. He could feel his pulse drumming at his temples. This woman—
“You’re pregnant!”
“The baby is the size of a grape,” she said dryly.
He stared at her for a heartbeat, then dragged a hand through his hair and exhaled through his nose, a growl buried deep in his chest. There was no winning with her when she used that calm, reasonable tone. The wolf inside him snarled anyway, restless and unconvinced.
Ronan shut the door with a controlled click and circled to the driver’s seat. The car’s engine came to life with a low rumble, vibrating through the floor. He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. She was looking out the window, her fingers absently brushing over the faint swell of her stomach.
He tightened his grip on the wheel.
I have to get her home.
Home, where she’d be safe. Guarded. Protected.
He wished he could make her understand how important her wellbeing was for him.
The road that cut through Mountain Valley unfurled ahead of them—wide and winding, carved through a forest of redwoods and pines that towered like sentinels. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the canopy, dappling the asphalt in shifting gold. The air shimmered with heat and the scent of resin, pine needles, and wildflowers.
Every few meters, a house peeked through the trees, smoke curling lazily from stone chimneys. Shifters paused in their daily routines as his black car passed—workers wiping sweat from their brows, mothers shepherding pups with small waves, patrols straightening at attention.
Every face softened when they saw Sienna in the back seat.
He looked at the people smiling and waving at his car as he drove by.
Right. She was not only important to him, but for their whole pack.
Some pressed their palms over their hearts in silent respect; others smiled with open affection.
Ronan acknowledged some of them with a curt nod, but his gaze always flicked back to the mirror—to her. Always her.
Every pack member adored Sienna. She was not only their Luna, but also their salvation, their hope, their future, their miracle.
She healed them. She completed them, made them whole.
When Sienna had enhanced them months ago, it had been like the valley itself had exhaled. Canid shifters have been thriving ever since. Young women were round with pregnancy, pups were born healthy for the first time in decades, old shifters no longer feared losing their ability to shift, and the oppressive tension that had once haunted their borders had finally lifted.
The rogue attacks had stopped completely. The forests grew quieter. The packlands were safer than ever.
The Pack flourished again.
Because of her.
She was their hope made flesh—warmth where there had been cold, peace where there had been grief.
But for him, she was more than salvation.
She was his world. His center. His everything.
His wolf had an unrelenting need to protect her… And now that she carried their pup, the wolf inside him couldn’t stop pacing, claws scraping against the walls of his mind, demanding he shield her from everything that could touch her.
Now that she was carrying their pup, his every breath felt like a prayer wrapped in warning.
Ronan’s knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. He knew how this looked—overprotective, irrational—but instinct didn’t bow to reason. Instinct was old and wild and merciless.
He glanced toward the far horizon where the forest thickened into misty hills. Somewhere beyond those ridges, the Darkwoods moved in shadows, plotting.
His enemies knew that the best way to hurt him was to get to her. They’d almost taken her from him, more than once. Never again. They would not touch her.
A wave of cold panic surged through him just thinking about it—about her leaving his sight, about anyone getting close enough to harm her. His heartbeat spiked. The steering wheel creaked under his grip.
He forced himself to breathe. One, two, three. Slow, controlled.
Ronan’s gaze softened as he looked at her again, sleeping peacefully in the back seat, the afternoon sun painting her hair gold.
He’d die before letting anything happen to her.
And may the gods help the world if anyone ever tried to harm her.