The doctor didn’t flinch. “Pregnant. Early, perhaps four to five weeks. Her body is already fragile from malnourishment and trauma. This means she needs extra care. More food, more rest. No stress, no strain. If either of you neglect that, the risk is significant.”
I couldn’t breathe. My hand pressed instinctively to my stomach, my mind fracturing between shock and a rising, trembling fear. A child. Lucien’s child. In me.
Lucien turned slowly, his eyes locking on me. They glowed, molten, a storm of possession and disbelief and something deeper, something almost reverent. His voice cracked, hoarse but unrelenting. “Mine?”
I managed a nod, my lips parting but no words escaping.
His jaw tightened until it looked carved from stone. He moved closer, sitting at the edge of the bed, his palm pressing over mine where it rested against my stomach. His chest rose and fell like he was breathing through a hurricane. “She carries my child.” Itwasn’t a question. It was a vow, a claim, a vow etched into air and bone.
The doctor nodded. “Yes. Which is why she needs you to be more than her shield. She needs you steady. Strong. And careful. Her body cannot withstand extremes right now.”
Lucien’s fists unclenched, only to grip my hand with crushing intensity, his voice rough and dangerous. “Then she will not lift a finger. She won’t worry about a damn thing. I’ll see to it.”
The doctor’s mouth curved faintly, like he saw too much. “You can’t control worry, Lucien. But you can ease it. She’ll need your steadiness as much as your strength.”
“I’ll give her both,” he growled, his eyes never leaving mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in stark contrast to the storm vibrating in him. “But if this sickness gets worse…”
“It won’t,” the doctor interrupted firmly. “Unless she denies herself food or tries to push against the bond. Trust me. She is safe. The child is safe. But only if she listens and you pay attention.”
Safe. The word felt fragile, too small for the enormity pressing down on me.
Lucien, though, was still a storm barely contained, his voice like steel dragged over stone. “She’d better be.”
The doctor packed his case, giving me one last look. “You will be fine. But only if you let him take care of you. And come to the clinic in the next week so we can do some tests.”
When the door closed, silence slammed into the room. Lucien exhaled like he’d been drowning, his hand sliding from mine to my stomach again, possessive and reverent all at once.
Then his eyes locked on mine, feral and unflinching. “You heard him. You need rest, and you need to eat more, I don’t want any more arguments.”
The word pregnant kept echoing in my head, sharp, deafening, unreal. My fingers pressed harder against my stomach as though I could feel something, someone, already there. But all I felt was hollow panic.
A baby. His baby.
I wasn’t ready. How could I be? My body still carried the trauma of the past. My nights still bled with nightmares. What kind of mother could I possibly be when I still woke up shaking, when I still couldn’t look at myself in the mirror without remembering the girl I had been before I was taken?
My chest tightened, my breath stuttering in and out. “I can’t…” I whispered, but the words cracked before they could form.
Lucien was on me instantly. One hand gripping my chin, turning my face up to his. His eyes burned, fire and fury and something unbearably tender. “Don’t you dare say you can’t.” His voice was rough, guttural, but not cruel. He pressed my hand flat against my stomach, covering it with his own. “You already are. You’re carrying us.Our blood, our bond. Our miracle.”
Tears stung my eyes, but not just from fear. From the way he said it. From the absolute certainty that radiated off him like heat, like there was no universe where he doubted me or the life inside me.
“Lucien…” My voice broke on his name. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You can.” His thumb swept over my cheek, rough but gentle. “You survived what was meant to break you. You’re strongerthan anyone I’ve ever seen. And now you’re carrying my heir.” His jaw clenched, eyes flashing with something primal. “I’ll kill every fucking shadow before I let anything touch you. Or him.”
“Him?” My laugh was shaky, wet with tears. “You don’t even know.”
“I know,” he said with terrifying certainty. “It’s a son. My son.”
I stared at him, my heart a chaotic mess of fear and warmth and disbelief. He already believed in something I was still struggling to process. He already saw a future I was too afraid to picture.
Lucien leaned in, his forehead pressing against mine, his voice softer now, though no less fierce. “You don’t have to be ready. That’s my job. I’ll carry every burden, fight every war. All you have to do is rest, eat, and let me take care of you.”
The weight of his words pressed down on me until the only thing I could do was nod, even as my heart raced with panic. The thought of a child inside me, half mine, half his, was terrifying. But the thought of him holding me like this, unyielding, unbreakable, was the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.
“I’ll protect you both,” he whispered, lips brushing my temple. “Even from yourself if I have to.”
And in that moment, I knew his obsession had doubled, deepened, taken root so far inside him that there was no tearing it out. It wasn’t just me anymore. It was the life inside me. His heir. His legacy. His reason to be even more dangerous than he already was.
