Page 20 of Sasha's Wounded Wolf

One corner of his mouth tugged up.

“Of course, you did. My vicious wolf would have been out for blood.”

“They robbed us, Rowan. Of years. Of…too much. They took moments we can never get back.”

“We’re together now, and we’ll be together from now on. You don’t leave my side.”

“You don’t know—” I began, but a sob choked the rest of the words off in my throat.

“I know I’m alive. You’re alive. Whatever happened, we survived, and I won’t let anything separate us again.”

“Rowan. God, I don’t know how to tell you.”

I stopped again, shaking my head.

“Tell me what?” he demanded, body tensing beneath me.

I automatically stroked my hands over his shoulders and chest, trying to soothe my wounded wolf.

“I was pregnant, Rowan.”

Horror crossed his face. “No. God, no.”

I realized what he thought and shook my head.

“I didn’t lose the baby. You have a son, Rowan. We have a son.”

Chapter Eight

~Rowan~

I couldn’t breathe for a moment. A baby? A son?

“Where?”

“He’s downstairs. He’s probably up from his nap by now.”

She flew after me, grabbing my arm as I pushed out of bed and headed toward the door.

“Rowan! You’re naked. Let’s shower and get dressed. Then I’ll introduce you.”

I swallowed the sharp retort that wanted to fall from my mouth. It wasn’t her fault my son had to be introduced to me. It wasn’t either of our faults. It was someone else’s.

“Raine doesn’t do well around strangers. It’s just been him and Nico and me since he was born.”

“Raine?”

“I named him after your sister.”

I closed my eyes, the pain in my chest gripping me tight. She took my hand, tugging me across the room after her and into the adjoining bathroom. She turned on the shower while I stood there, utterly useless.

“He’s amazing, Rowan. Like a miniature version of you. Incredibly intelligent. Inquisitive. Loving. His giggles light up the whole room.”

“I have a son,” I whispered, tears washing over my face.

“We have a son,” she murmured back. “He’s going to love you as much as I do.”

I’d known we’d missed years of time together, but I hadn’t understood exactly what those years had held. My son’s newborn years. His birth. His first cry. Smile. Steps. I’d missed all those milestones. Missed out on the bond that started from the first breath. I was a stranger to my son, and he didn’t do well around strangers.

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