Page 109 of What a Wolf Demands

His low chuckle rumbled the bed. The sound of his laughter was something she’d never get tired of. Sometimes she’d be walking through the Lodge and hear it drifting from the weight room or echoing from Max’s office. She always stopped in her tracks and smiled, sort of soaking in his happiness.

It was precious to her—because she knew how long he’d gone without it. And how close they’d both come to losing their chance to seize it together. They had both lost people they loved—the kind of losses that cut so deep they left a scar.

“Hey,” he said now, his eyes worried. “You sure you’re okay? You look sad.”

“I’m not.” She brushed back some hair that had fallen over his forehead. “Just thinking about things.”

His expression became serious. “You were thinking about your parents.”

“And Bart.” His death was still raw, the senselessness of it an ache that left her feeling helpless and guilty. No matter how many times Dom told her it wasn’t her fault, she still felt responsible for the pain and terror he must have suffered. The first few months after his death, she had nightmares that left her sobbing and shaking. Living with werewolves with ultra-sensitive hearing meant she’d woken half the Lodge. Dom had shooed everyone away, then held her the rest of the night, stroking her back and murmuring soothing words until she fell asleep.

His gentle hand on her jaw pulled her from her memories.

“I know it doesn’t help much,” he said, “but at least Thibeaux paid for his crimes.”

“It helps.” She took a deep breath. “It’s probably not very motherly of me to admit, but I feel better knowing Luc got what he deserved.” Guyon had made good on his promise to issue an apology. Less than a week after the showdown in Max’s study, a message had arrived from the Louisiana Territory. The old loup-garou families had chosen Guyon as their Alpha. The note had been sparse on details regarding Luc’s fate, saying only that the previous Alpha had been “executed for poor judgment.”

Dom’s expression turned thoughtful. “I think your feelings are very motherly. You want the world to be a safe place for our child. Thibeaux made it decidedly less safe.”

A shiver bolted down her spine, and she lay a protective hand over her belly. “He was never going to stop.” Old frustration and confusion rose in her, and she couldn’t help but add, “He hated me so much.”

“No.” Dom put his hand over hers. “He didn’t hate you, love. He just hated. There was an ugliness inside him, and it would have manifested one way or another. If it wasn’t latents, it would have been something else.”

Hating latents was a problem that extended much farther than Luc or Bon Rêve. The discrimination was everywhere . . . except New York. Her new home was truly a melting pot of wolves from all backgrounds. Max didn’t turn anyone away. There were wolves like Dom who hailed from wealthy, legendary families. There were latents who came to the territory with the hope of seeking Lizette’s help to make the Turn. There were wolves with desirable Gifts like Tracking and Finding.

And there were wolves like her, with an oddball Gift no one could seem to figure out. Although, she and Remy had a lot of fun sneaking up on people and canceling their Gifts, then quietly laughing their asses off when their victims tried to draw on an ability and failed. They’d spent one rainy Saturday following Max around and smothering their snorts and giggles while he stubbed his toes and slammed into furniture after she nullified his Finding ability, forcing him to move at normal speeds.

Yeah, her Gift might be weird, but it was also kind of hilarious.

She laced her fingers with Dom’s. At the same moment, the baby gave a ferocious kick.

They both jumped, then looked at each other, smiles on their faces.

“She’s a fighter,” he said.

Lily tilted her head. “You really think it’s a girl, huh?” They’d agreed to keep it a surprise, something that was driving everyone in the Lodge crazy. Sophie had started a betting pool, and Lizette kept finding so-called gender predictor tests on the internet. The latest one had involved standing in a circle under a full moon while dangling nails from a string.

Sophie had leaned over and whispered to Lily, “This is by far the dumbest one she’s come up with.”

Without looking up from her nail, Lizette had said, “I can hear you, you know.”

Sophie had rolled her eyes. “The moon doesn’t make us transform. What makes you think it’ll tell us what the baby is?”

“Just go with it,” Lizette had muttered. “Remy and I have a bet. If he wins, he’ll gloat until the baby graduates high school.”

The baby kicked again.

Dom grinned. “Oh yeah, it’s a girl. I need another exasperating redhead in my life.”

Another kick—the hardest one yet.

He laughed and patted Lily’s belly. “My apologies, little wolf.”

Lily’s heart flipped over. More than anyone else, the baby responded to his voice. It was almost like the two had a metaphysical connection. She often wondered aloud if the child would inherit his Gift of Telepathy, but of course it was too soon to tell.

Then again, the baby might end up being a Null. Like her.

Gaze on her stomach, she said, “You know, after the baby’s born, I’d love to go back to New Orleans and try to trace my witch ancestry.”

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