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The child snuggled back against her, but Layla looked at me over the top of her head and I saw the fear. Because none of us believed in always anymore. Not after bullets. Not after blood. Not after learning how quickly everything could change.

It had been strange watching the Dragic brothers with their children. Terrifying men became something entirely different around tiny humans. I'd seen Volken sitting on the floor while his daughter put bright pink clips through his hair. The same Volken who could make grown vampires lower their eyes with one look had sat there without complaint. Lucien's son had once launched himself from the top of the stairs because apparently Daddy would always catch him. Lucien had. Then he'd spent twenty minutes lecturing the child while hugging him so tightly the poor boy could barely move.

And Roman? Roman was possibly the worst of them. The great leader of the Dragic family apparently possessed absolutely no defence against his son's bottom lip trembling. None. He could destroy him with it. I'd watched Layla tell him no biscuits before dinner. Five minutes later, Alexander had mysteriously appeared with biscuits. Layla had nearly killed Roman.

I smiled at the memory, then my smile faded. Viking would be like that. My eyes dropped to my stomach. There still wasn't much to see. A tiny change. A softness that probably only I noticed. But there was a baby in there. Our baby. And every time I pictured Viking holding our child, something inside my chest hurt in the best possible way.

He'd be ridiculous. Completely fucking ridiculous. Protective wouldn't even cover it. Our child would probably have six guards before it learned to crawl. And God help anyone who ever made them cry.

I smiled again, then looked toward the clock. 4:19. The smile disappeared. Where are you?

I concentrated on the bond. Viking had been teaching me. It wasn't telepathy. I couldn't hear his thoughts. But emotion travelled. Distance dulled it, but didn't erase it. Normally when Viking was hunting, I felt him like a storm far over the horizon. Anger. Concentration. Sometimes the violent flare of the berserker. Tonight, there had been something different.

Nothing I could identify. Just pressure, I rubbed my chest. Runa noticed. “You are feeling him?”

I looked up. The others immediately turned toward me. “A little.”

Sorcha sat straighter. “What?”

“I don't know.”

“Is he hurt?”

“I don't think so.”

Not helpful. Layla's expression sharpened. “What exactly do you feel?”

I closed my eyes and reached. The bond stretched between us. Viking, there distant. Usually he burned. My vampire did nothing quietly, including existing. His emotions were normally huge. Tonight...

“Strain.”

My eyes opened. “Like he's holding something back.”

Runa frowned. “The berserker?”

“Maybe.”

Sorcha muttered, “Fuck.” A child's sleepy head lifted. Sorcha immediately winced. “Fudge.” I almost laughed. Almost.

By five, the older children had started waking, which meant worrying had to become quieter. Mothers were extraordinary creatures. One minute Layla was staring at the clock like she could force Roman through the doors by sheer will to give us updates. The next she was pouring cereal. Runa braided hair. Sorcha negotiated over socks. Apparently one of the greatest battles in supernatural history was currently occurring between Sorcha and a six-year-old who absolutely refused to wear matching ones.

“They don't have to match,” the little boy insisted.

“They come in pairs for a reason.”

“But this one has dinosaurs.”

“And the other has spaceships.”

“Exactly.”

Sorcha stared at him. He stared back.

I leaned toward Runa. “Lucien's?”

“Completely.”

“I heard that,” Sorcha muttered.