Page 18 of Of Wolves and Wives

“Get some rest,” he says, surprising me as he bends to caress my cheek with his thumb before straightening again. “You’re safe here with me, I promise.”

I nod, watching as he makes a slow retreat back to the hall.

“Rykker,” I call, just as his hand reaches for the doorknob. He pauses, glancing back at me, concern bright in his eyes. “Have you considered that … that I could be carrying your child?”

He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes focusing on the balcony instead of on me. My mind begins to spin as I wonder what the hell made me ask this question of him. My heart pounding harder in my chest as I wait for his answer.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he gives me a nod.

“Yes,” he says, “I’ve considered that it could be mine.”

When he adds nothing else, I suddenly find myself craving more from him.

“And if it is?” I ask.

Again, his eyes pull away from me as his brow knits together in thought. It’s only now that I realize how important his answer is to me. Of course, there’s a chance the child could be Heath’s … or Pierce’s … or gods forbid, the Grey Prince’s, but none of that matters.

I already know the child’s fate should it turn out the prince is his father, but what of the others?

Will the child know a loveless, parentless life like I have, or will it find a home in them? And what of us? Will a babe bring us closer, bind us faster, or will it destroy us from within?

A shared woman is one thing, but a baby?

“If you’re carrying my child, Rose,” Rykker finally says, his voice low and gravelly, “I’ll be the happiest man alive to have the two of you to love.”

With that, he slips from the room, shutting the door behind him with a click. I’m not sure if his hurry is to avoid any further questions, or because of his confession. Either way, his words burrow into my heart, warming it as I close my eyes.

I’m not sure what he means by love, but I don’t want to question it right now. As someone that hasn’t had nearly enough love in her life, if any, I’m not even sure I’m ready to believe it possible.

But for now, I’m willing to let it bring me some peace.

At the very least, I deserve that.

7

Rykker

In truth, I never dared to imagine the child was mine. It still seems like too much to hope for.

A fantasy for another man, but not for me. Not with her.

Still, I can’t help but feel warmth spreading through me at the thought as I return to my post outside her door. Hard as I try, the hope that’s started to bloom in my chest refuses to uproot itself.

I have no right to want this. To want the child to be mine.

Children … love has always been something meant for others.

Never for me.

No matter how much I’ve longed for a family of my own … a place where I belonged without question. Where I was accepted, scars and all.

But I’ve always known that wasn’t what fate had in store for me.

After everything that I’ve done in this lifetime. The things I’ve seen and allowed myself to be a part of.

No. I deserve nothing.

Least of all Rose, or the hope of a child.

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