The soft winter light spilled through the high windows of their secluded Russian estate, painting the wooden floors in pale gold. Alina stood by the fireplace, wrapped in a thick ivory sweater that barely hid the slight swell of her belly. Her body was changing — hips a little fuller, face softer, and the faint curve beneath her ribs now unmistakable. But it wasn't the changes that made her restless. It was the man currently watching her from the kitchen doorway like she might float away if he blinked.
"You're staring again," she said, turning with a faint smirk.
Cassian didn't look away. "You're swelling."
She raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Romantic."
He walked toward her, slow, deliberate, his steps echoing on the wooden floor. "I didn't mean it like that."
"You never do. But you say it like it's a crisis."
"It is," he said, stopping in front of her and dropping to his knees without warning. His large hands slid gently beneath the hem of her sweater, fingers splaying against her warm skin. "You're carrying my twins. That makes everything a crisis."
She snorted. "You didn't seem to think it was a crisis when you kept getting me pregnant every night like it was your personal hobby."
His mouth twitched. "Still is."
Alina rolled her eyes, but her fingers drifted into his hair, softening. There was something different about Cassian since Russia — quieter in his rage, louder in his care. He watched everything: her meals, her sleep, the tremble in her breath when she dreamed. He no longer let her lift a finger — not even to reach for a blanket.
"I'm not porcelain, Cassian."
"No," he murmured, brushing a kiss to the swell just above her navel. "You're fire. But even fire needs somewhere safe to burn."
She blinked, caught off guard.
"You scared me," he whispered, as if confessing it for the first time. "When they took you. I nearly died before the bullet even hit me."
Alina exhaled, her voice quiet. "They hurt me, Cassian."
"I know." His jaw clenched. "And I made them pay for every second. Every bruise. Every scream."
Silence fell between them, heavy and humming with old violence. Alina didn't ask how — she didn't need to. The look in his eyes when he returned to her had said enough. But now that he had her safe, he was relentless in his protection. Overbearing, even.
"Cassian," she said, stroking his cheek. "I'm still me. You can't lock me in silk and call it freedom."
"You think this is silk?" He stood, scooping her into his arms. "No, Alina. This is armor."
She laughed, breathless as he carried her into the lounge and dropped her gently on the plush velvet couch. He knelt beside her again, pulling her legs into his lap and tugging off her socks like it was a sacred ritual.
"Foot massage now?" she teased. "What's next, painting my toenails?"
"I already ordered non-toxic polish. You can pick the color."
She stared. "You're serious."
"I read three books on pregnancy in the last week. I also know your ankles are starting to swell, and I'm not letting you walk around this house like it's a battlefield."
She narrowed her eyes. "You're insane."
"I love you."
"Still insane."
He grinned, fingers kneading gently into her foot as she melted into the cushions. A soft sound escaped her, half a sigh, half a moan.
"You keep doing that," he murmured, "I might forget you're pregnant."
She smirked sleepily. "You forget every night anyway."
His eyes darkened with something feral and reverent all at once. But tonight, he just pulled a throw blanket over her and shifted until her legs wrapped around him, head resting against his chest.
"I like this," she whispered.
"Me too."
Later that night, after dinner and warm tea and three arguments about whether she could pour her own water, Alina finally drifted off to sleep in their bed. The moonlight fell across the room, silver and still. Cassian sat beside her, shirtless and quiet, his hand splayed across her belly.
He whispered to the twins, like he always did when she slept.
"Your mother is impossible. Beautiful, stubborn, and a little mean when she's sleepy. But she's mine."
He brushed his thumb in slow circles, eyes softening.
"I'll keep you safe," he promised. "All three of you. You're the only things in this world I'd die for."
Alina shifted beside him in her sleep, curling closer as if she felt the weight of his vow.
Cassian kissed her temple and laid down beside her, hand never leaving her bump.
He didn't need a kingdom.
He didn't need vengeance anymore.
He only needed this — the fire, the softness, the quiet heartbeat of the family he never thought he'd have.