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.
and my thoughts are jumbled and incoherent. The baby deserves a better mother than me. Someone competent enough to
the voice
skin on my abdomen, guiding
little flower. The baby is going
me into a comfortable daze, and I feel myself relax against him. After a while, the voice
have to eat
nauseous. There’s a soft chuckle in
flower. You need to eat. What’s
“When I was little….” I mumble. “When I was little, my aunt would make grilled cheese sandwiches with homemade tomato
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
like
of clanging in the distance wakes me up. I stretch slightly, trying to focus. The bed is empty, but there’s a variety of loud noises coming from the kitchen. There’s metal
how much time passes while I lay there, drifting in and out of sleep. At some point, the sound
entering the room with a wooden tray full of food. His blonde curls are a shaggy mess like he’s been running his hands through his hair in frustration, and sweat coats
I stare at the food in surprise. There’s a cup of tea in the corner and a small 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
Marco commands, as
watches me curiously as I dip the corner of the sandwich into the soup and take a bite. It tastes… not quite like my aunt’s. The grilled
frayed piece of paper, holding back a smile when I see drops of food that
get
the sheet from me, and I frown at the little burn marks
show up
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