Cronan’s POV
Happy, humming—I can smell her from all the way up here.
It’s getting . . . worse.
More intense.
And the humans were struggling to act normal around her, the males all immediately attracted to her, jumping to feed her, opening doors, offering to hold her books. She seemed annoyed with the attention, curving them, but thoughtlessly accepted snacks from them. A yogurt, granola bar, and mozzarella cheese stick later, I’m convinced that she’s pregnant.
She’s misinterpreting that hunger she’s feeling, trying to fill the void with human food. I know what sustenance she actually needs. What she craves.
Our bond goes two ways.
She feeds me, nourishes me—but when I impregnate her, the roles reverse.
I need to find nourishment for both of us .
