F E N R I R
A soft knock sounded at my study door.
"Come in," I called out, not looking up from the map spread across my desk.
The door opened, and I knew it was her before I even looked up. Her scent, a subtle blend of rain washed jasmine and the unique, warm spice of her own skin, and now, the new soft undertone of my unborn son, cut through the air of the room. It was a scent that had haunted my dreams and tormented my dream for weeks.
I finally looked up. Leilani stood in the doorway, a hesitant look on her face. I paused, and really looked at her. She wore a simple, deep blue dress, one of the new ones. The fabric flowed over her curves, skimming the swell of her stomach with a grace I hadn't anticipated.
My son. He was a reality now, no longer just a thought but a living, gro
