I woke with Damian’s arm locked around my waist, his palm spread over my stomach like he was guarding something fragile and priceless. The room smelled like him, clean heat, iron, and something darker that never left his skin no matter how many showers he took. Safety. Possession. Danger. All wrapped into one man. The twins shifted inside me, subtle this time, like a warning instead of a greeting. I sucked in a breath and Damian stirred immediately. “Talk to me,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep. Older. Grounded. The kind of voice that didn’t ask often because it didn’t have to. “They’re moving,” I whispered. His hand stilled, then tightened slightly, reverent. “Good,” he said. “Strong.” I should have felt comforted. I did feel comforted. And terrified at the same time. Because everythi
