The baby kicked once, as if in agreement.
She fell asleep smiling, his voice still echoing in her mind, warm and real and full of careful hope.
CHAPTER 13
Victor’s hand trembled as he poured the coffee.
Three weeks, he thought, watching the dark liquid stream into two mugs. Three weeks of talking to her every night. Three weeks of wanting.
The tremor worsened, and coffee slopped over the rim, pooling on the counter.
“Damn it.”
He set the pot down with excessive care and reached for a towel. Behind his ribs, Hyde stirred—restless, prowling, increasingly difficult to contain. The suppressant wasn’t working anymore. Or rather, it was working exactly as well as it had always worked against stress and fear. But desire was a different beast entirely, and Chloe made him want with an intensity that defied every protocol he’d developed.
His phone buzzed with a text from Peta letting him know that Mrs. Henderson had rescheduled and he was free until two. He stared at the message, then at the clock. Eleven-fifteen. Whichmeant he had two hours and forty-five minutes before his next patient. Enough time to bring Chloe lunch.
The thought came complete with a plan—sandwiches from the deli, fresh fruit from the market, and those chocolate chip cookies she’d mentioned liking from Java Joy. He could eat with her in the archives. Talk to her face-to-face instead of through a phone screen.Kiss her.Hyde rumbled in approval, pushing against his careful control like a hand testing a door.
No, he thought firmly. Lunch. Conversation. Nothing more. Hyde’s skepticism was palpable.
He cleaned up the spilled coffee and grabbed his jacket. The November air was sharp when he stepped outside, carrying the bite of approaching winter. Snow would come again soon. Chloe’s cabin had adequate heating—he’d checked with Houston personally—but the road could be treacherous in bad weather.
She should move closer to town, Hyde whispered.
She’s fine where she is.
Alone. Pregnant. Miles from help.
His jaw clenched. This was the problem. Hyde’s protective instincts had attached to Chloe with disturbing intensity. Every conversation, every text, every moment spent in her presence only strengthened the bond, and the bond made control exponentially harder.
The deli smelled like fresh bread and roasted turkey. He ordered two sandwiches—turkey and avocado for Chloe, roast beef for himself—and added a container of fruit salad and the cookies on impulse.
“Date?” The selkie behind the counter grinned, her silver-streaked hair catching the overhead lights.
“Lunch.”
“Uh-huh.” She rang up the order with unnecessary enthusiasm. “With the pretty archivist?”
Somehow he managed to keep his expression neutral. “With a patient who’s working through her lunch break.”
“Right. Professional lunch delivery. Very doctorly.” The selkie’s grin widened. “You want me to throw in some of those fancy napkins? The cloth ones?”
“The paper ones are fine.”
“Boring.” But she bagged the food with a wink that suggested she knew exactly how not-boring this lunch was going to be.
He paid and escaped before she could offer more commentary on his love life.
The archives occupied the basement of the town hall—a sprawling space that had once been storage for the original settlement’s records. Chloe had spent the past month transforming it from chaos into organized history, and Victor had watched her passion for the work bloom with every visit.
He found her exactly where he expected: cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by file boxes and ledgers, her brown hair twisted into a messy knot that made his fingers itch to pull it loose. She didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in whatever document she was reading, one hand resting absently on the curve of her belly.
Ours,Hyde whispered.Protect. Keep safe.
Not ours, he corrected silently.Hers.
Hyde ignored him. In his worldview, what was Chloe’s was theirs. End of discussion.
