Fifteen months later
The sound of Ruby's heartbeat fills my ears as I lay my head gently on her rounded belly. Beneath her skin, beneath the curve of her body, I can hear a second heartbeat—faster, lighter, but strong. Our child. Our miracle.
"Can you hear anything new?" Ruby asks, her fingers combing through my hair. She's propped up against the headboard of our bed, a book on shifter genetics open beside her—one of dozens she's collected over the past year from other packs and lone shifters I've connected with since she came into my life.
"Strong heartbeat," I tell her, my voice rough with emotion. "Steady. Perfect."
"Like their father," she says with a smile I can hear without looking up.
I lift my head to meet her eyes. Those warm brown eyes that saw through me from the beginning, that accepted the impossible, that look at me each day with a love I never thought I'd find.
"More like their mother," I counter, placing a kiss on her belly before moving up to kiss her lips. "Brilliant. Stubborn. Beautiful."
Ruby laughs, the sound still the most wonderful thing I've ever heard.
"Stubborn is definitely a trait they'll get from both sides. Poor kid doesn't stand a chance."
"Poor kid is the luckiest in the world," I say, settling beside her, one hand remaining over our growing child. "They'll have your brains and my strength."
"And possibly your fur," she adds, her expression turning thoughtful. "Do you think they will? Be a shifter, I mean?"
It's a question we've discussed often since discovering Ruby was pregnant six months ago. According to the shifter lore we've gathered, children born to a shifter father and human mother have about a fifty-fifty chance of inheriting the gene.
"I don't know," I answer honestly. "But either way, they'll be loved. Protected. Accepted for exactly who they are."
Ruby's eyes glisten slightly. "The way I've accepted you?"
"The way we've accepted each other," I correct, thinking of all the ways she's embraced my nature, my world, and all the ways I've adapted to having a brilliant, independent human mate who questions everything and accepts nothing on faith alone.
Our journey hasn't been without challenges. Ruby's first experience with my full shift—planned, controlled, and explained in advance—was still overwhelming for her. The first full moon we spent together tested both our patience.
But through it all, Ruby has faced each new revelation, each strange aspect of shifter life, with the same determination she brought to untangling my financial records that first weekend. She observes, analyzes, adapts, and ultimately embraces. It's who she is—who she's always been.
"What are you thinking about?" she asks, nudging me gently. "You've got that broody look."
"I'm not broody," I protest, though we both know it's not entirely true.
"Contemplative, then," she amends with a smile. "Seriously, what's on your mind?"
I stroke her belly, feeling a small flutter beneath my palm that never fails to amaze me. "Just thinking about how much has changed. How different my life is now."
"Do you miss the solitude?" she asks, always perceptive. "Your bachelor bear days?"
"Not for a second." I meet her gaze, letting her see the truth in my eyes. "Everything before you feels like waiting. Like I was just marking time until you arrived."
"Hmm. And now?"
"Now every day feels like a gift I never expected to receive."
Ruby's expression softens. "That might be the most romantic thing you've ever said to me, Cole Blackwood."
"I have my moments." I pull her closer, careful of her belly, breathing in the scent that's become home to me—vanilla and coffee, now mingled with the distinct sweetness of pregnancy. "Though I seem to recall you once thought I was too rugged a man to believe in fated mates."
She laughs, resting her head on my shoulder. "One of many misconceptions you've corrected over the past year."
Outside our window, the mountains are painted in the golden light of late afternoon. The cabin has changed as much as our lives, expanded again to include a nursery, a larger office for Ruby's growing crisis accounting business (now largely operated remotely), and a workshop where I craft furniture when not running Blackwood Construction.
Cedar Falls has changed too, or perhaps just our place in it. Ruby integrated herself into the small community with remarkable ease, winning over even the most suspicious locals with her genuine interest in their lives and her willingness to help witheverything from tax questions to the town's annual festival planning.
