KAT
Three Months
The morning sickness hits like a freight train made of nausea and regret, sending me scrambling for the bathroom while Dave's still dead to the world. Three months of mating and my body's decided to stage its own little rebellion, complete with symptoms I've been desperately trying to ignore. My wolf prowls restlessly beneath my skin, protective in ways that make my suspicions crystallize into something closer to certainty.
I rinse my mouth, avoiding my reflection because I already know what I'll see—that particular glow people talk about, the one that screams 'brewing cubs' to anyone with supernatural senses. My thirty-fifth birthday looms in two days, and instead of planning a party, I'm hiding in the bathroom calculating dates and trying not to panic.
"Empress?" Dav
