Elara's pov
He went still. Absolutely, terrifyingly still. His eyes traced the slight, undeniable curve of my lower abdomen, the way my breasts had swollen and grown heavy, the darkening of my areolas in the pale moonlight. It was only a few months along, a small bump that could have been mistaken for a full meal or a good night's sleep, but to him, knowing my body as intimately as he knew his own, it was a screaming declaration. His hands hovered over my stomach, trembling slightly, before he finally laid a palm against the bare skin. It was warm, calloused, and possessive. "Elara," he breathed, the word a ragged sound of shock and something else, awe, or maybe fear. "You're..."
"Yes pregnant. With your child, because I don't remember sleeping with anyone else since you left."
