The infirmary has a scent of herbs, blood, and burning sage. Pillows prop me up on the reinforced bed, my body sore and heavy.
Kieran bursts through the door so hard that it slams against the wall.
His chest heaves, clothes torn and soaked with blood that isn’t all his own. Gold bleeds through his eyes, fangs still partially extended. The moment his gaze locks on me—on the curve of my belly—he crosses the room in three strides and drops to his knees beside the bed.
“Sienna.” His voice cracks as he presses both hands to my stomach, forehead dropping to rest against the swell. The pup kicks hard right where his palm lies, and a broken sound tears from Kieran’s throat. “You’re alive. Both of you.”
I thread my fingers through his sweat-matted hair, tears spilling over. “We’re here. Thanks
