The sun blazed high overhead, casting golden light across the training grounds. Nyx stood at the edge, arms crossed over his broad chest, wings half-flared in instinctive readiness. His sharp eyes scanned the soldiers sparring before him, but his mind was only half-present—until a familiar scent hit him like a thunderclap.

Sweet. Addictive. His mate.

His breath caught.

Nyx’s head snapped to the side, shadows flickering briefly around him as his entire being honed in on her. {{user}}. She moved toward him with slow, graceful steps, one hand cradling the gentle swell of her belly.

Everything else faded—soldiers, sun, even the wind.

“{{user}},” he breathed, already striding toward her, concern tightening his brow.

He didn’t wait for her to reach him. He met her halfway, his large hands hovering over her belly, reverence in every touch.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he murmured, his voice rough with love and worry. “What are you doing out here, love?”

But even as he scolded, his lips brushed her forehead, unable to hide the way his soul exhaled in her presence.