Chapter 22 #2
Her soft laugh didn’t reach her eyes, and I knew she thought I was overreacting. Maybe I was. But in my world, accidents didn’t exist. A fall wasn’t just a fall, it was a moment someone could exploit, a weakness waiting for teeth to sink in.
Across the club, I could see Lucien pretending not to watch us, Viking shaking his head like I’d just made his night, Volken giving me that “you’re overbearing but not wrong” stare, and Draugr… Draugr wasn’t smiling, he understood, he always understood.
I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, ignoring the small sigh she gave me. “You’re not just carrying yourself anymore, Layla. You’re carrying our future. You trip, you fall, and I’ll never forgive myself.”
She went quiet at that, her arms uncrossing just enough for her fingers to curl into my shirt as she raises her head to kiss my jaw.
The hours bled away in a haze of music, low laughter, and the constant churn of bodies moving through the club.
Layla kept busy, talking with the bartenders, checking tables, making sure everything ran the way she wanted it to.
And I kept my eyes on her the whole damn time.
By the time the night was winding down and the last of the crowd was trickling toward the doors, I’d had enough.
She was glowing from the attention, from seeing her vision alive in the space, and I was proud of her.
But she was also tired, I could see it in the way her shoulders sagged just a fraction, the way she rubbed the side of her belly when she thought I wasn’t watching.
“Time to go,” I said, already moving toward her.
“I’m fine,” she started, but I didn’t let her finish. My hand found hers, fingers locking tight, my other arm sliding around her waist to steer her toward the exit.
The moment we moved, the shift was immediate.
Lucien detached from his post against the far wall, stepping into place ahead of us, his eyes scanning the remaining patrons and staff.
Viking fell into step behind, the casual swagger in his gait undercut by the fact that I knew his hand was close to a concealed weapon.
Volken took the side opposite mine, his gaze sharp and restless, cataloguing every face in the room.
Draugr was already outside, posted at the entrance with a look that promised anyone dumb enough to come near would regret it.
It wasn’t planned. It didn’t need to be. This was instinct, this was blood-deep, drilled into us over years of surviving in a world where weakness got you buried. And right now, Layla was the most precious thing in it .
She caught on quickly, glancing around at the wall of my brothers moving with us, and I felt her hand tighten in mine. Not fear, just awareness.
When we stepped into the cool night air, Draugr fell in behind us, sealing the formation. The valet already had the SUV idling at the curb, the tinted windows hiding the shadows inside. I opened the door and helped her in, keeping my body between her and the street until she was settled.
The club behind us still hummed with life, but it was muted now, the bass a distant thump as I climbed in beside her. The moment the doors shut, the world felt smaller, quieter.
As the SUV pulled away from the curb, I glanced at her, taking in the faint flush on her cheeks, the satisfaction in her eyes. She’d built something tonight; she’d built something beautiful. And I was going to make damn sure nothing and no one ever took it from her.
The SUV glided through the quiet streets, the city lights flashing in slow, golden streaks across her face. She leaned back against the seat, her legs crossed, one hand resting over her belly like she was already protecting what was ours .
I couldn’t stop looking at her. The slit in that black dress had fallen open just enough to tease a line of bare thigh under the passing streetlamps, and every flicker of skin was a slow-burn provocation.
My hand rested on her knee at first, harmless enough.
But the longer I sat there, the more the urge to touch her grew.
Her head turned, catching me watching her, and the corner of her mouth lifted in a small, knowing smile. That was all it took, my hand slid higher, fingers curling around the soft curve of her thigh, my thumb stroking slow circles into her skin.
“Roman,” she murmured, but there was no warning in her voice, just that soft mix of heat and challenge she always gave me when she knew I was in one of my moods.
I leaned in, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You looked too damn good tonight. All those eyes on you… every one of them made me want to end the night early and remind you who you belong to.”
She shivered, her breath hitching as my hand squeezed, my fingers pressing just enough to make her shift under my touch.
The driver kept his eyes on the road, silent as a shadow. The SUV felt darker, warmer, like the air was thick with the weight of everything I wasn’t saying out loud. I let my hand linger, not pushing further, just reminding her in every slow stroke of my thumb that she was mine.
By the time the mansion gates came into view, my control was hanging by a thread. She didn’t even know how close I was to dragging her straight to our room the second we got inside.
The SUV rolled to a stop, and I was out before the engine went silent, circling around to open her door. I didn’t say a word, just held out my hand. She took it, always did. That small, soft hand sliding into mine like it was made for it.
The second the front door shut behind us, the shift hit like the air itself thickened around us. There were no more eyes and no more guards. It was just us.
She started to say something, maybe a tease, maybe a protest, but I cut her off with a slow, deep, unhurried kiss. One hand cradling the side of her face, the other pressed low on her back, drawing her into me until I could feel the heat of her through that dress .
“I’ve been waiting all night,” I whispered against her mouth.
She didn’t answer, she didn’t need to. Her fingers slid into my shirt, gripping tight, like maybe she’d been waiting too.
I lifted her again, gentler this time. She didn’t argue as her arms wrapped around my neck, her head tucked against my shoulder as I carried her upstairs like she was already something sacred.
The bedroom was dim, quiet, the city lights leaking in through the tall windows. I set her down at the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of her, my hands skimming up her legs, pushing the black fabric of her dress higher, inch by inch.
Her breath caught when I kissed her knee, then her thigh, then higher. I wasn’t in a rush. I wanted to savour this. Savour her.
“Roman…” her voice was soft now, less challenge and more need.
I looked up at her. “Tell me what you want.”
“You. Just you.”
That was all I needed as I undressed her slowly, carefully, revealing every inch of her like she was something holy.
And maybe she was. She didn’t shy away from me, even when I paused to lay a reverent hand across the gentle swell of her stomach.
My lips followed, kissing the curve where our child rested, a silent promise pressed into her skin.
When I finally joined her in bed, it wasn’t frantic or rough.
It was slow and all consuming. Every kiss, every touch was deliberate.
My mouth worshipped her, my hands mapping out all the new lines of her body.
I kissed the inside of her wrist. Her collarbone.
The spot just below her ear that always made her sigh.
She moved beneath me with a kind of quiet hunger, her fingers tangled in my hair, her breath whispering my name like a prayer.
I held her like she might break, not because she was fragile, but because what we had between us was the most real thing I’d ever known, and I refused to treat it like anything less.
We moved together like we’d been made for it. Her legs wrapped around me, her lips parting with soft, breathy gasps, her eyes locked on mine the whole time. There were no masks, no walls. Just her and me and the slow rhythm of something that felt like home .
I didn’t let go until she did. And when she did, when she broke apart beneath me with my name on her lips, I held her through it, whispering promises I didn’t have to make because she already knew.
Later, when her breathing slowed and her hand found mine on her belly, she looked at me through heavy lashes.
“You love me too much,” she whispered, like it scared her.
I kissed her forehead. “There’s no such thing.”
And when she fell asleep tucked into my side, I stayed awake a while longer, watching her breathe. One hand on her stomach, feeling the faintest kick beneath my palm.
My future, my reason for living, my everything.