A hand settled on my lower back.
"They're supposed to be sleeping separately," Hastings murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "In their own beds."
"They're pack," I replied. "Pack sleeps together. I like that they have each other."
His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his chest. I leaned into him, letting him take my weight. My hand went to my belly, resting over the swell that was just beginning to show.
"Would your parents be happy for you?" Hastings asked quietly. "If they could see this?"
I turned in his arms to look at him. His grey eyes were soft, unguarded in a way they only were with family.
"They loved me since the day they adopted me," I said. "So yes. I think they'd be happy."
Hastings went very still. "Adopted?"
"I thought you knew." I tilted my head. "With all your background checks and private investigators, I assumed—"
"I never looked into your parents. That felt too invasive." His jaw tightened. "You were adopted?"
"When I was three days old. My birth mother was sixteen. An omega who'd gotten pregnant during her first heat." I traced the line of his collar with my finger, needing something to do with my hands. "She couldn't keep me. She was too young, too scared. So she gave me to a couple who couldn't have children of their own."
"Presley—"
"I used to think it would be easy," I continued. "Giving up a baby. I mean, if my birth mother could do it, then I could too, right? That's what I told myself when I agreedto be your surrogate." I laughed, but it came out wet. "I was so stupid."
"You weren't stupid."
"I was naive." I looked up at him. "The moment I heard their heartbeats, I knew I'd never be able to walk away. Biology doesn't let you. The bond doesn't let you. I don't know how she did it. How any omega does it."
Hastings cupped my face, his thumb brushing away a tear. "Maybe she knew you'd be loved. Maybe that made it easier."
"Maybe." I pressed my hand over his, holding it against my cheek. "What about you? Would your parents be happy?"
His expression shuttered immediately, walls slamming down.
"Henry," I said softly. "Talk to me."
He looked past me, at the children sleeping with the cat. "My parents died when I was eight. Car accident. I was in the back seat."
My breath caught.
"I went to boarding school after that. My uncle managed the family money until I was old enough to take over. But he wasn't—" Hastings stopped, his jaw working. "He made it clear I was a burden. An obligation he didn't want."
"Henry—"
"I don't think my parents would recognize me now," he said quietly. "I became someone they never would havewanted me to be. Cold. Calculating. Someone who treated people like chess pieces."
"That's not who you are."
"It's who I was. Until you." He looked at me. "You made me remember what it feels like to be human."
"You were always human. You just forgot for a while."
He lowered his head until our faces were level and pressed his soft lips on mine.
"Oi!" Fritz's voice boomed from downstairs. "Stop snogging and get down here! Oma's about to serve dessert and she's threatening to give my portion to Etienne if I don't get our family at the table immediately!"
I laughed against Hastings' mouth. "We should go."
