The Third Person's POV
The morning sun filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of Lucian's childhood bedroom. For a heartbeat, Nadia forgot the High Council, the looming divorce papers, and the existence of Abbie.
The air was thick with the scent of cedar and a low, rhythmic vibration. She realized with a start that her back was pressed against Lucian's broad chest. His arm was draped heavily over her waist, his palm resting flat against her stomach—dangerously close to the life pulsing inside her.
He was awake; she could tell by the shift in his breathing and the way his Alpha energy hummed beneath his skin, seeking hers.
"If I said I didn't want the divorce," she whispered, the question from last night still hanging in the air like a ghost.
Lucian's grip tightened for a fraction
