I kiss his forehead tenderly, closing my eyes in gratitude for this beautiful moment. But worry sits underneath. Aaron saw something in that dream, something that disturbed him. I’m curious—no, concerned—about what it was.
I plan to get an answer out of him when he wakes.
My tail finally lifts from the bed, gently stroking his back in long, soothing motions. My lion purrs low in my chest, in complete approval of our mate.
15
Aaron
The Next Morning
Ipull my shirt over my head and walk over to the freshly made bed. Mara’s humming to herself, swaying slightly as she moves around our suite, lost in her own world with a grin spread across her face that she doesn’t seem to know is there.
I sit on the edge of the bed and just watch her. My neck is still throbbing where she bit me, the skin tender and warm, and I can’t stop grinning like an idiot. She claimed me last night, and the way we made love, I’m almost certain we made our first cub.
Seeing her like this—happy and glowing and completely at peace—makes my heart swell with pride. I run my fingers over the claim mark again. I’ve been doing it all morning, and every time I touch it a warm current moves through me, straight to her.
And then the dread comes.
Last night floods back to me in waves. Mara’s lion leaping into the air. The warlock’s magic slamming into her chest. Her amber eyes going dull, the life draining from them while I screamed and couldn’t reach her—nothing in that timeline was solid enough for my hands to hold.
I can’t do it. I can’t watch her die again.
I press my palms against my eyes, my body going hot. The flashes keep coming, relentless, each one sharper. Her blood on the grass, her tail going still. And now, sitting here watching her hum and glow with what might be our cub growing inside her, it hits me with a force that nearly takes me off the bed.
She was pregnant when she died.
Bile rises fast and violent in my throat, and I clamp a hand over my mouth as the room tilts, my vision blurring.
“Aaron?” Mara’s voice cuts through the haze, the humming gone. “What’s wrong?”
She’s across the room before I can answer. She drops to her knees in front of me and cups my face with both hands, tilting it up to hers. Her tail swaying behind her with concern.
“I don’t feel so well,” I manage.
“Okay.” Her voice goes soft. She helps me lie back on the bed and sits down beside me, stroking my forehead, my cheek. Her tail lifts and brushes over my chest.
Her brow furrows. She shifts on the bed to face me, tilting her head, her nose twitching as she reads my scent. “I smell regret in your scent,” she says quietly.
My whole body locks. “Do you regret?—“
I sit up and turn on her so fast she flinches. I clamp my palm over her mouth and lock my eyes on hers. She gasps behind it and her tail goes stiff.
“Don’t start, Mara,” I warn.
Her face falls when I pull my hand away. She drops her gaze, her ears flattening, and the hurt in her expression breaks my heart. But I can’t tell her. If she knew what I saw, she’d spiral, and that would make everything worse.
“Okay,” she says, her voice small. “But you won’t tell me what’s going on.”
It’s not a question. She stands from the bed, her tail swaying in agitation behind her, and lifts her chin.
“You aren’t working today,” she tells me.
I give her a silent nod. She straightens her shoulders. “I’ll let Headmistress Ebony know.” I nod again.
She starts to walk toward the door. I reach out and catch her arm before she gets two steps, pulling her back to me.
“My kiss?” I give her a smirk.
