Updated Dec 29, 2025 • ~4 min read
POV: NOVA
Three months after Dorian’s transformation, I was visibly pregnant and ruling a fortress in transition.
Every day brought new challenges: vampires learning to work alongside wolves, old prejudices dying slowly, new systems being built from scratch. Dorian and I handled it together—true partners in every sense.
Tonight, after a particularly brutal training session where I’d insisted on continuing despite my pregnancy, we collapsed onto our bed exhausted.
“You’re impossible,” Dorian said, pulling off his training leathers. “Six months pregnant and you’re still demanding full combat drills.”
“Our daughter needs to know her mother is strong. Besides, I feel amazing. The hybrid nature makes pregnancy easier, not harder.”
It was true. Instead of weakening me, pregnancy seemed to amplify my powers. I was faster, stronger, more in tune with both my wolf and vampire sides.
Dorian crossed to me, gentle hands helping me out of my own gear. “You’re glowing.”
“I’m sweating.”
“That too.” He knelt, pressing a kiss to my rounded stomach. “Hello, little one. Your mother is being stubborn again.”
Through the bond, I felt his overwhelming love—for me and for our unborn daughter. It made my heart ache.
“Dorian,” I said softly.
He looked up, dark eyes meeting mine. They still flashed gold sometimes, remnant of his hybrid transformation. It made him even more beautiful.
“I need you,” I said.
Understanding dawned. We hadn’t been intimate since his transformation—too much chaos, too much recovery, too much caution around the pregnancy.
“Are you sure? The baby—”
“Is fine. Thriving, actually. And I need my mate. Not the general. Not the co-ruler. Just you.”
He stood slowly, searching my face. “Nova—”
I kissed him, cutting off whatever protest he was forming. Poured all my need and love and desire through the bond until he responded with equal fervor.
We fell onto the bed together, shedding the last of our clothes. When his hands touched my skin—reverent and careful—I arched into the contact.
“I won’t break,” I said.
“I know. But you’re carrying our daughter. I refuse to be anything less than careful.”
He was, too. Gentle and thorough and maddeningly slow. Learning my changed body, discovering what felt good now that I was pregnant, driving me absolutely insane with need.
“Dorian,” I gasped. “Please—”
“Patience.”
“I’ve been patient for three months.”
He laughed against my skin. “Fair point.”
When he finally entered me, we both gasped. The bond flared brighter than ever—three essences instead of two now, our daughter adding her own small presence to the connection.
We moved together slowly, savoring instead of rushing. This wasn’t desperate claiming or political necessity. It was simply two people who loved each other, creating intimacy and joy.
I felt Dorian through the bond—his pleasure and love and overwhelming gratitude that we’d found each other. That we’d survived long enough to have this: a shared bed, a growing child, a future built on choice instead of force.
And he felt me too. Every sensation doubled through our connection.
When we reached completion, it was together—his name on my lips as he shuddered in my arms, the bond cementing even more completely around our growing family.
Afterwards, we lay tangled together, both breathless.
“I love you,” Dorian whispered, hand splayed across my stomach where our daughter grew. “Both of you. More than I thought possible.”
“We love you too. Even when you’re insufferably careful during sex.”
He laughed. “I’ll work on that.”
“You better. I have three more months of pregnancy and I plan to enjoy all of them.”
Through the bond, I felt his joy at that statement. At the promise of more nights like this. More intimacy. More building our relationship beyond politics and survival.
We fell asleep like that—wrapped around each other, our daughter safe between us, the fortress quiet beyond our walls.
For the first time in my life, I felt completely at peace.
No more running. No more fear. No more forcing myself to survive impossible circumstances.
Just living. Actually living.
With my mate and our child and the future we were building together.
One careful, chosen day at a time.
It was everything.
More than everything.
It was home.
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