Darius

No one, and I mean no one, prepares you for a pregnant mate.

Battling rogue wolves? I’ve got that down. Negotiating with Elders and managing a pack? Easy as ABC. But Ayla, sixteen weeks pregnant, sobbing in the middle of the kitchen because her blueberry muffin was “too blue”—that’s a war zone I never saw coming.

And the worst part? I’d still take a silver bullet to the chest for her without hesitation.

Like she said I was obsessed with her.

This morning started out ...