Chapter 205

Fiona

“I found out about a week after I left your house, actually,” I murmurs, laying my head back and tilting it up to look at Ethan. My entire body is so relaxed, I almost feel like jelly. That massage was exactly what I needed. “I was sick for a while after I left, so Isla made me go to the doctor, and after several tests, they couldn’t find what was wrong.”

“None of them?” he asks, sounding worried. I lace my fingers with his and let the relaxing atmosphere wash over me.

“They ended up doing a blood test, and that’s when they found out. Honestly, I don’t know much more than you, because I had just found out when Ryan came and told me you were poisoned,” I tell him. I probably should find a way to get a checkup, but I’m definitely not going all the way back home to do it.

I don’t want to leave Ethan, and I know he wouldn’t want me to leave either.

“You’d be right about that,” he whispers. Then, a soft kiss brushes along my neck. “I can smell it now, the pup… er, the baby, I mean.”

“You can? What does it smell like? Ryan mentioned it before.”

“Ryan knew before I did?” He asks, tilting my chin toward him. I narrow my eyes playfully at him and shake my head.

“Of course. You were passed out and dying,” I tell him. “Anytime you woke up, things were too crazy to mention a baby.”

Ethan hums in thought, then nods as if he accepts my words as a decent reason. There has been so much going on that neither of us has really had a chance to talk about the baby.

“The baby smells like the two of us, a little bit woodsy with a hint of something light and airy mixed in,” he finally answers, then asks, “How far along are you?”

“When the doctor told me I was pregnant she said five weeks, but that was like two-ish weeks ago, so probably around seven or eight weeks.”

Ethan again nods silently, wraps his arms around me, and just holds me. I think he’s finally letting it sink in, so I stay quiet as he thinks. Every now and then, a hint of emotion that isn’t mine finds its way into my mind; love, excitement, concern, and a bit of unease.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, turning a bit to look up at him.

“We need to go to the hospital. I want them to check the baby, since this is probably different than what the human doctors are used to, and you need to make sure that you’re healthy. There’s a lot going on and I don’t want you to be—”

“Woah, woah. Slow down.”

Turning, I lift up onto my knees and place my hands on his cheeks, cupping them and forcing his eyes to mine. The worry that floods my system, again, is not mine. It’s Ethan’s emotion. If that long ramble didn’t tell me how he felt, I’m glad I can sense it now.

“You don’t have to be worried about the baby or me.”

“I do. That’s my job as your mate and the baby’s father, Fiona,” he says softly, “I will never stop worrying about you.”

His words send that warm, melty feeling puddles inside me.

“I love you,” I whisper, leaning in and brushing my lips to his.

Ethan growls, “I love you more,” before slamming his lips to mine so hard that I don’t even worry about the water sloshing out of the tub.

After some fun and another bath, we finally made it to the hospital.

It was like a switch flicked in his brain when we pulled up to the hospital and he wanted to carry me in. I told him no, but he still tried to lift me out of the car. Ethan was like a man on a mission, and it took me locking myself in the car to finally make him calm down and let me walk inside on my own.

We had all my bloodwork done already and after waiting for about thirty minutes, a nurse came and got us to bring us to an exam room.

Silently, Ethan leads me through the hospital corridors, our fingers laced together with no chance of losing contact.

“Ethan, this is childish,” I say, and by the way his shoulders stiffen, I know he realizes I mean his little silent treatment. All because I wouldn’t let him carry me in.

Through our bond, I can tell he’s not really angry, but I still find it a bit funny that he’s acting like this.

“Do you see anyone else being carried inside?”

He huffs and I sigh, lifting my arms. Almost immediately, he swoops me up and carries me Princess style to the room the nurse enters at the end of the hallway.

The nurse smiles when we enter, and her grin broadens when Ethan sits and pulls me into his lap.

“Alpha, we can’t do the examination with Luna Fiona sitting on your lap,” the woman says, smiling sweetly. Ethan groans like a child and after a moment of hugging me to his chest, he stands, deposits me on the bed, and sits in the chair next to it.

“Alpha, Luna. Welcome. I’m very happy that you’ve come today,” Healer Sarina says as she enters the room. I smile at her and wave. Ethan merely bows his head out of respect.

“He’s a bit nervous,” I tell her with a giggle. “Don’t mind him.”

Healer Sarina smiles and pats Ethan on the shoulder in a motherly manner. He looks up at her then smiles softly when she kisses the top of his head. I hadn’t seen her act so familiar with him, but I do remember her saying that she’s known him almost his whole life.

“Well, all of your bloodwork looks good. You numbers are fine, which tell us there is no strain and that everything is progressing as it should with the pregnancy,” Healer Sarina says while looking at a clipboard. “We will continue to closely monitor you, since this is an unusual pregnancy for us. I’d like you to come in every four weeks for a checkup, unless you notice something that feels off.”

Nodding, I lay my hand on my belly, praying that nothing odd will happen. I’d like a peaceful pregnancy, if such a thing exists.

“Alright, can you lay back, lift your shirt, and unbutton your shorts,” Healer Sarina instructs, pulling a machine over. The nurse helps her get it set up while I do as she says.

“This might be cold,” the nurse tells me, and it is. I gasp as she spreads the cold gel over my belly, enough that Ethan sits up and growls a bit at her. To keep him from being rude, I hold my hand out. The distraction works because he takes my hand and looks at me instead of the nurse.

We pin all our attention on Healer Sarina as she moves the wand over my stomach. It takes a minute, but soon, she turns the screen in our direction and a soft thumping sound echoes in the room.

“If you’ll look here, this little shape is your baby’s head, and this,” she points at an oval-ish shape attached. “This is the baby’s head. If you look close, you can almost see little arms and legs, which means your baby is almost eight weeks along,” she says softly, pointing at a little circular shape on the screen.

It all looks like black and white blobs, but as I stare at the little circle, tears prick at my eyes and my heart squeezes.

That’s our baby.