Chapter 13
thirteen
. . .
Beck
Two pink lines. I stare at the plastic stick in my hand, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my fingertips.
Two pink lines that change everything. I'm pregnant.
Somehow, despite the birth control I've been on for years, Gray's seed took root inside me.
His obsession with breeding me, with filling me up, with making me round with his baby—it's no longer just dirty talk.
It's reality. My hand trembles as I place the test on the bathroom counter.
A month and a half since the bounty was cleared.
A month and a half of freedom, of building a life together in this cabin.
And now this. A child. His child. Growing inside me.
I should be panicking. Should be terrified at the thought of bringing a baby into this unconventional life we've created. A baby with a father who hunts dangerous men for a living, who has violence written into his DNA, who claimed me in a way most women would find terrifying.
But instead of fear, a warm glow spreads through me, centering in my lower belly where our child is taking form. Tears spring to my eyes, but they're not tears of distress. They're tears of wonder. Of joy.
I place my palm flat against my still-flat stomach. "Hello, little one," I whisper, feeling foolish but unable to stop myself. "Your daddy's going to be so happy."
Will he, though? Gray's breeding talk has always been a fantasy, something that drives him wild in the heat of passion. But a real baby? A tiny, vulnerable life that will depend on us both?
I try to remember when my birth control might have failed. The antibiotics I took for that sinus infection last month, perhaps? Gray had been particularly insatiable then, claiming me multiple times a day, as if making up for the nights when congestion kept me from breathing properly during sex.
The sound of his truck rumbling up the drive pulls me from my thoughts.
He's home early from his supply run to town.
I quickly wrap the pregnancy test in toilet paper and bury it deep in the bathroom trash.
Not because I'm hiding it, but because I want to tell him properly.
Want to see his face when he hears the news.
My heart races as I move to the kitchen, trying to act normal as I hear his heavy boots on the porch, the familiar sound of the door opening and closing. Will he be able to tell just by looking at me? He notices everything, my hunter, my protector.
"Beck?" His deep voice calls out, an edge of concern already present. He can sense something's different.
"In the kitchen," I reply, proud of how steady my voice sounds.
He appears in the doorway, grocery bags in his massive hands, dark eyes immediately scanning me for signs of distress or danger. It's automatic for him, this assessment, this constant vigilance.
"What's wrong?" he asks, setting the bags on the counter without looking away from my face.
I swallow hard. "Nothing's wrong. I just—" The words catch in my throat. How do I tell him? How do I explain that his fantasy has become reality?
He crosses to me in three long strides, hands coming up to cup my face. "You're crying," he says, thumbs brushing away tears I hadn't realized were falling. "Tell me."
I take a deep breath, placing my hands over his. "I'm pregnant," I whisper, watching his face carefully for his reaction. "We're going to have a baby."
For a moment, he goes completely still, his expression frozen. Then something shifts in his eyes—a fierce, primal joy that takes my breath away.
"Mine," he growls, one hand sliding down to press against my stomach. "My baby. Inside you."
Relief washes through me at his reaction. "Yes," I confirm, covering his hand with mine. "Your baby."
He drops to his knees in front of me, an action so unexpected it startles a gasp from my lips. Gray, who towers over everyone, who dominates every room, is kneeling before me. His hands frame my hips, his forehead pressing against my still-flat belly.
"Thank you," he murmurs against me, his voice rough with emotion. "For giving me this. For carrying my child."
Tears flow freely now, dripping from my chin as I thread my fingers through his hair. I've never seen him like this—vulnerable, reverent. It's as if the last piece of his feral nature has been momentarily tamed by the news of our child.
He stands suddenly, lifting me into his arms as if I weigh nothing. "Need you," he says, carrying me toward the bedroom. "Need to feel you."
His gentleness surprises me as he lays me on the bed, his hands no longer rough with desperate passion but tender with awe. He undresses me slowly, pressing kisses to each inch of skin as it's revealed. When I'm naked beneath him, he pauses, eyes roaming over my body as if seeing it anew.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, palm flattening over my stomach again. "Going to get so round with my baby. So fucking perfect."
He strips quickly, his cock already hard and straining against his stomach, but there's none of his usual urgency. Instead, he stretches out beside me, gathering me against his chest, one large hand continuing to stroke my belly.
"How long?" he asks, pressing kisses to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.
"I don't know exactly. Maybe a month? I need to see a doctor."
He nods, his beard tickling my skin. "Tomorrow. I'll take you. Make sure you're both healthy."
Both. The word sends a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. We're a family now. The three of us.
His lips find mine in a kiss that's achingly tender, so different from his usual claiming. His hand slides lower, between my thighs, finding me already wet for him.
"My little girl," he murmurs against my lips, "carrying Daddy's baby. You're everything."
The words—filthy and sweet at once—make me moan, my body responding as it always does to his dominant endearments. But there's something different now, something deeper in the way he touches me, the way he looks at me.
He rolls me gently onto my back, settling between my spread thighs, his cock nudging at my entrance without pushing in. "Tell me if anything hurts," he says, concern furrowing his brow. "Don't want to harm either of you."
The consideration nearly undoes me. "It's okay," I assure him, hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders. "We're okay."
He enters me with exquisite slowness, watching my face for any sign of discomfort. When he's fully seated inside me, he pauses, forehead pressed to mine, sharing breath.
"Mine," he whispers, the word holding new meaning now. "Both of you. Mine to protect. Mine to cherish."
"Yours," I agree, tears spilling down my temples into my hair. "We're yours, Daddy."
He begins to move then, setting a gentle rhythm that's nothing like our usual frantic coupling. Each thrust is deliberate, controlled, his body carefully braced above mine to keep his weight off my stomach.
"My sweet baby girl," he praises, kissing away my tears. "Taking such good care of our child. Going to keep you both so safe."
His tenderness breaks something open inside me, pleasure building slow and sweet rather than sharp and desperate. I clutch at his shoulders, overwhelmed by the emotion pouring from this usually stoic man.
"Gray," I gasp as he hits that perfect spot inside me. "I love you. I love you so much."
Something flickers in his eyes—vulnerability, wonder, and finally, surrender. "Love you too," he admits roughly, the words sounding torn from his chest. "Love you, Beck. My Beck. Mother of my child."
The confession—the first time he's ever said those three words—pushes me over the edge into a gentle orgasm that washes through me in warm waves. He follows shortly after, his release careful and controlled as he empties himself inside me with a reverent groan.
He rolls us immediately so I'm draped across his chest, his arms cradling me protectively. One hand returns to my stomach, stroking in gentle circles.
"A family," he murmurs, sounding dazed by the concept. "Never thought I'd have that. Deserve that."
I prop myself up to look at his face, finding a vulnerability there I've never seen before. "You deserve everything," I tell him fiercely. "Everything good in this world."
He shakes his head slightly, but doesn't argue. Instead, he pulls me back down against his chest, his heartbeat steady under my ear.
"Going to take care of you both," he promises, his voice rumbling through me. "Keep you safe. Give you everything you need."
I smile against his skin, completely at peace for perhaps the first time in my life. From hunted to protected to loved to carrying his child—my journey with Gray has been unconventional in every way. Terrifying at times. Overwhelming at others.
But as his hand continues its gentle exploration of my belly where our baby grows, I know with absolute certainty that I'm exactly where I'm meant to be. With the man who hunted me, claimed me, and ultimately, loved me into a version of myself I never knew could exist.
Safe. Cherished. Home.