Three months later, I stood in front of the mirror in our bedroom, turning sideways to examine my profile. At six months pregnant, there was no hiding it anymore. My belly was round and prominent, stretching the fabric of the soft cotton dress Luna had insisted I needed.
"You're beautiful," Duke said from the doorway, and I caught his reflection watching me with that look, the one that made heat pool low in my belly despite my exhaustion.
"I'm huge," I corrected, but I was smiling. The baby kicked, hard enough that I saw the movement through my dress, and Duke crossed the room in three strides.
His hand found my belly immediately, his touch reverent. "Strong," he murmured. "Just like their mother."
I leaned back against his chest, letting him support some of my weight. These quiet mome
