Page 125 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell

“Worth it,” I insist, but I let her go when she starts to sit up.

She gathers her clothes and disappears into the bedroom, and I allow myself a moment to just lie here, basking in the contentment that fills every cell of my body. This is what happiness feels like—not the temporary high of victory in battle, but the deep, abiding satisfaction of a life well-lived with the person you love most.

“Erik?” Fiona’s voice calls from the bedroom. “I have something for you.”

“If it’s my shirt, I’m not sure I want it back,” I call back, grinning at my own humor.

“Not your shirt,” she says, and there’s something odd in her voice. Nerves? Excitement? “It’s—Well, it’s a gift.”

A gift? It’s not my birthday or our anniversary. Curious, I pull on my pants and pad barefoot to the bedroom.

Fiona is sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed now, holding a small, wrapped package. Her expression is a mixture of anticipation and anxiety that immediately puts me on alert.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask, settling beside her.

“No occasion. Just open it.”

The package is surprisingly light, and when I unwrap it, I find myself staring at a pair of tiny shoes. Baby shoes, soft leather in a rich brown, so small that they fit in the palm of my hand.

For a moment, my brain refuses to process what I’m seeing. Baby shoes. Fiona has given me baby shoes. Why would she...

“Fiona,” I breathe, my eyes snapping to hers. “Are you...”

“Has all the fighting rattled your brain cells?” she asks, but she’s smiling now, radiant with joy and love and relief. “What do you think?”

I drop the shoes and pull her into my arms so fast she squeaks in surprise. “You’re pregnant,” I say, the words barely a whisper of awe. “We’re having a baby.”

“We’re having a baby,” she confirms, and then I’m kissing her with all the happiness and wonder and overwhelming love that are threatening to burst out of my chest.

A baby. Our baby. A perfect combination of the two of us, created from love and desire and the deep bond that connects our souls.

When I finally pull back, there are tears in both our eyes.

“How long have you known?” I ask, my hands already moving to rest protectively over her still-flat stomach.

“Two weeks,” she admits. “I wanted to be sure before I told you. And I wanted to find the perfect way to share the news.”

“It was perfect,” I assure her, pressing another soft kiss to her lips. “You’re perfect. This is perfect.”

“Are you happy?” she asks, and I can hear the last traces of nervousness in her voice.

“Happy?” I laugh, the sound bright with incredulous joy. “Fiona, I’m beyond happy. I’m ecstatic. I’m terrified and thrilled and so in love with you I can barely breathe.”

Her smile could light up the entire kingdom. “Good. Because we’re going to need to start planning. The nursery, and telling Alex, and figuring out how to run the café when I’m too pregnant to lift heavy things...”

“We’ll figure it all out,” I promise, pulling her close again. “Together. We’ll figure out everything together.”

As I hold my wife—my mate, the mother of my child—I think about the journey that brought us here. The rejection that nearly destroyed us both. The year of searching. The crisis that forced us to confront our feelings. The three years of building this life, this love, this future.

None of it was easy. But all of it was worth it.

Because this—holding Fiona in our bedroom while she carries our child, surrounded by the life we’ve built together—this is everything I never knew I wanted and everything I’ll spend the rest of my life protecting.

“I love you,” I whisper against her hair. “Both of you.”

Her hand covers mine where it rests on her stomach. “We love you, too.”

And in that moment, with the sun setting outside our window and our future growing beneath my palm, I know that every choice, every sacrifice, every moment of pain has led us here.

To this perfect, imperfect, beautiful life we’ve created together.

To forever.