Month six brought the nesting instinct.
Kael called it preparation. I called it madness. Whatever it was, I couldn't stop organizing, cleaning, preparing. The cabin had to be perfect. The nursery had to be ready. Everything had to be in its place.
Kael watched me rearrange the nursery for the third time in one day.
"Elena."
"It's not right. The crib should be closer to the window."
"It's been in three different spots today."
"This is the right one." I pushed it again. "I can feel it."
He crossed the room, wrapped his arms around me from behind.
"The baby doesn't care where the crib is."
"I care."
"I know." He kissed my neck. "But you need to rest. You've been going all day."
"I can't rest. There's too much to do."
He turned me to face him.
"Look at me."
I did.
Gold eyes, soft with love.
"The nursery will be ready. The baby will come. Everything will be fine." He kissed my forehead. "But right now, you need to sit down. Eat something. Breathe."
I wanted to argue. But he was right. I was exhausted.
"Fine. But after dinner, I'm painting the mural."
"Mural?"
"Lia designed it. Wolves and moons and stars." I smiled. "It's going to be beautiful."
"I'm sure it will be." He led me to the kitchen. "But first, food."
---
The mural took three days.
Lia helped. Sasha helped. Even Jax helped, though his wolves looked more like dogs with attitude problems.
"It's perfect," I said when it was done.
Lia beamed. "Really?"
"Really." I hugged her. "The baby is going to love it."
"The baby will love you," she said. "Everyone does."
I cried. Again. Hormones were ridiculous.
---
The pack threw a baby shower.
Not a human shower—a wolf shower. Which meant lots of food, lots of howling, and lots of gifts that ranged from practical (furs, blankets, carved toys) to strange (a bone that was supposedly "for teething").
"It's a baby, not a puppy," I told Sasha.
"Babies teeth. Wolves teeth. Same concept."
I couldn't argue with that.
---
Kael's gift was the best.
After the party, when everyone had gone, he led me to the nursery. In the corner, covered by a cloth, was something large.
"What is this?"
"Open it."
I pulled the cloth away.
A cradle. Hand-carved. Wolves and moons and stars, matching the mural. It was beautiful. Perfect. Clearly made with love.
"Kael." My voice broke. "Did you—"
"Every night, after you fell asleep. For weeks." He touched it gently. "I wanted to make something for her. Something that would last."
I threw my arms around him.
"I love it. I love you."
"I love you too." He kissed me. "Both of you."
---
That night, we made love in the nursery.
Surrounded by the mural, the cradle, the future. Slow and sweet and full of hope.
"I can't wait to meet her," he whispered.
"Soon."
"Are you scared?"
"Terrified." I kissed him. "But also so happy."
"Me too." He moved inside me. "So happy."
Afterward, we lay on the floor, tangled together.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"For what?"
"For everything. For this life. For our daughter. For loving me."
He pulled me closer.
"Thank you for existing. For finding me. For staying."
"Always."
"Forever."