Bianca
I never thought I’d see the day when Prince Isaac Thorne, notorious playboy and probably one of the most careless people in the Lycan kingdom, would be arranging pillows behind my back for the third time in an hour.
“Is that better?” he asked. “Or do you need another one?”
“Isaac,” I sighed, “I’m pregnant, not dying. I think five pillows is more than enough.”
He frowned. “Dr. Alfred said you need to be comfortable at all times. Stress isn’t good for the baby.”
I bit back a laugh. The transformation in Isaac over the past few days had been nothing short of astonishing. Ever since the doctor’s warning about the risks of my pregnancy with a dormant wolf, Isaac had morphed from the lighthearted, carefree prince I’d married into some kind of overprotective mother hen.
