Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan

Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan Chapter 25

Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan By Kellie Brown

Chapter 25 Fever

Tanya’s POV:

I’m hot and cold all at once, the fever wracking through my body. The chill of the pond from that night seems to have seeped into my bones, making me shiver even a sweat clings to my skin. My hand rests on my stomach as guilt courses through me, stronger and sharper than any discomfort from the fever.

If I were the only one sick, I wouldn’t mind. But at that moment, when I jumped in after the earrings, I forgot that I’m not just making choices for myself anymore. There’s a child growing in me that will suffer the consequences of my mistakes. I berate myself for not having thought of that when I recklessly threw myself into the water. If this baby suffers because I made myself ill, I’ll never forgive myself.

Title of the document

What kind of mother will I be?

Something shifts on the best beside me, and I wince at the stiffness in my joints. My eyelids are heavy with fatigue, and everything seems blurry and far away like I can’t tell whether I’m awake or dreaming.

Suddenly someone’s lying beside me, gently adjusting me to rest against his embrace. His arms wrap around me, and in spite of the burning fever, I welcome the warmth. Wrapped up in him, everything is less painful. A hand rests on top of mine, fingers delicately entwining with my own.

“It’s going to be okay,” says a deep but caring voice.

Marco.

I must be dreaming after all, or perhaps the fever is making me imagine things. I’m so groggy, I can barely tell.

The baby deserves a better mother than me. Someone competent enough to care for

the voice shushes

tentatively stroke the skin on my abdomen, guiding my own hand and rubbing

worry, little flower. The baby is going to be just fine. I

into a comfortable daze, and I feel myself relax against him. After a while, the voice cuts through the fog in my

have to

grimace, feeling too nauseous. There’s a soft

You need to eat.

slightly, too tired and feverish to think straight. “When I was little….” I mumble. “When I was little, my aunt

of my family’s time and affection when they realized I didn’t manifest a wolf. They realized I was defective, broken. But the memory of those sunny afternoons with my aunt still fills me with joy. She would let me help with the sandwiches while she made the soup from scratch. Once it was all done, we’d dip the bread and cheese into the softly-spiced soup. Everything would be warm and cozy, and the house

like comfort,” I

focus. The bed is empty, but there’s a variety of loud noises coming from the kitchen. There’s metal clashing, sizzling, and the sound of Marco cursing under his

and out of sleep. At some point, the sound of footsteps tugs me back into

the sight of Marco entering the room with a wooden tray full of food. His blonde curls

plate with a burnt grilled cheese sandwich. Besides it, there’s a bowl full of what appears to be homemade tomato soup. Under the bowl, itself is a crumpled and stained piece of paper, and it takes a few seconds for my mind to make sense of the scribbled words. The recipe is written in

commands, as if

curiously as I dip the corner of the sandwich into the soup and take a bite. It tastes… not quite like my aunt’s.

pick up the frayed piece of paper, holding back a smile when I see drops of

get this?”

at the little burn marks on his fingers as he quickly

rather stunned to see a Lycan prince show up at her home, but she insisted that

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