He reached out and brushed the dark hair back from her cheek.
His heart clenched.
Her skin was cool.
Too cool.
“Leena,” he murmured, keeping his voice low so he would not wake the baby.
His palm rested briefly against her temple, as though he could force warmth into her through touch alone.
“You don’t look well. I can push the meeting. Isa and the coven can wait.”
Leena opened her eyes and gave him a faint, affectionate smile.
It did not reach them.
“I’m fine,” she said carefully. “Just tired. He’s been feeding nonstop.”
Sule’s jaw tightened.
He leaned down and pressed his mouth to her forehead, partly in tenderness and partly to test again for fever or warmth.
Her skin remained cool beneath his lips.
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said. “Not after ten days of this. If something’s wrong—if you’re bleeding, if you’re dizzy—”
“I’m fine,” Leena repeated, firmer now.
Stubbornness was as much a part of her as breath.
She adjusted the baby more securely against her chest with slow, deliberate movements that tried to appear casual and failed.
“You need to go,” she continued. “Handle Isa and whatever trouble the coven is bringing to the council. I’ll rest. I promise.”
Sule stared at her.
Every instinct demanded that he stay beside the bed and watch her until whatever threatened her finally showed itself.
But the meeting mattered.
The attacks against civilian vampires had not slowed. The coven was restless, and too many pieces were moving across the board without his permission. One wrong decision could spill war directly into the streets of New Orleans.
He forced himself to nod.
“I’ll attend the meeting,” he said. “But the birth medic examines you again before I leave the compound. Mary remains nearby, and someone stays with you until I return.”
Leena’s expression tightened.
“Sule—”
“That is not negotiable.”
“I have the baby. I’m not alone.”
“A ten-day-old infant does not count as protection.”
One corner of her mouth lifted weakly.
