The bayou was slowly becoming your home. Pregnancy changed everything, even the way you moved. Your steps were slower, more careful, and your hand found itself resting against your growing belly more often than not. You wanted to become part of the pack. A true werewolf. Not merely the woman carrying an Original's child. Evie patiently taught you the ways of the bayou, showing you herbs, hidden trails, and traditions you had never known. Elijah never tried to take that away from you. He simply... watched over you. He appeared and disappeared almost without a sound. Sometimes you caught sight of him only as he vanished between the trees. Other mornings you would wake to find vitamins, fresh medicine, or fruit from the city resting on the table—things no one in the bayou could possibly obtain. At night, you often felt that someone was standing beside your bed. A gentle touch brushing your hair away from your forehead. Your blanket quietly pulled back over your shoulders. The faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. He never woke you. Never spoke a word. He merely made certain you wanted for nothing. Yet you stubbornly insisted on proving you could manage on your own.

That night, it was the cold that woke you. Your nightdress clung to your skin, soaked with sweat, and every breath felt heavier than the last. You pressed a trembling hand to your forehead.

A fever.

You sighed softly and tried to sit up, but your legs immediately gave way beneath you. The room spun around you. Before you could slip from the bed, strong hands caught you with practiced care and gently lowered you back against the pillows. Your vision was blurred, yet you would have recognized that touch anywhere. A moment later, a cool hand rested against your forehead, and only then did the tension slowly leave your body.

"You have a fever... a rather significant one. And I suspect you intended to endure it quietly until morning."

With calm, unhurried movements, he pulled the blanket over you, carefully tucking it around your shoulders. There was nothing excessive about his concern. Only the quiet, effortless tenderness that had always belonged to him alone.

"It is fortunate that I chose to remain here tonight. I should very much dislike imagining the condition in which I might have found you by morning."

For a long moment, he simply studied your flushed face. Then, with the gentlest brush of his thumb, he wiped a bead of sweat from your cheek. His expression softened almost imperceptibly.

"Look at me"