Chapter 4 - The Changing of the GuardThe silence in the library was broken only by Norah’s muffled sobs.
Dominic reached out, his large, scarred hand hovering inches from her face before he finally dared to touch her. His fingers brushed gently against her damp cheek, wiping away a tear with a tenderness that felt entirely unnatural for a man of his brutal reputation.
“Norah,” he murmured, his voice thick and rough. “Look at me.”
Slowly, shakily, Norah lifted her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed, blazing with a mixture of fear and lingering defiance.
“I am a monster to you,” Dominic said quietly, stating it not as a question, but as a heavy, inescapable truth. “I know what people say. I know what I’ve done to keep this family alive, to keep this territory safe. But I swear to you on my life—on my father’s grave—I would never, ever let harm come to my blood.”
“You don't understand,” Norah whispered, shaking her head. “The moment enemies find out you have a child... the moment they find out I’m carrying your baby... we become targets. They won't come after you, Dominic. They’ll come after us. They’ll use us to break you.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened. A dark, terrifying light flickered in his slate-gray eyes—the look of a cornered wolf preparing to tear apart an entire pack to protect its den.
“Let them try,” Dominic growled softly.
He shifted closer on his knees. Without asking permission, he placed his large, warm palm flat against the thick wool of her sweater, right over her stomach.
Norah gasped, her breath catching in her throat. She instinctively tried to pull away, but his hand held her gently, securely in place.
Beneath his palm, as if responding to the sudden proximity of its father, the baby gave a distinct, undeniable kick.
Dominic stopped breathing.
His hand twitched against her stomach. His eyes widened, staring down at her abdomen as if he had just witnessed a miracle. A slow, profound shiver ran through his massive frame.
“Did you... did you feel that?” Norah whispered, her voice trembling.
“Yes,” Dominic breathed, a look crossing his face that Norah had never seen before—a look of raw, unadulterated awe.
He didn't remove his hand. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently against her shoulder, inhaling the scent of lavender and vanilla that always followed her around the estate.
“You’re not staying in that small room anymore,” Dominic murmured against her skin.
“What?”
“Starting tonight, you move into the master suite,” he said, his tone shifting instantly into the absolute, unquestionable authority of a man issuing a royal decree. “I’m doubling the security detail around the west wing. We are bringing in private medical specialists to monitor your health every single week. And you are never, ever going to wear a sweater in April again.”
May you like
Norah pulled back slightly, looking down at him with a mix of disbelief and caution. “Dominic, you can’t lock me up in a bigger cage. That’s not protection, that’s a gilded prison.”
“It’s not a prison,” Dominic said, looking directly into her eyes with a fierce, possessive intensity that brooked no argument. “It’s a sanctuary. And you and my child are the only things in this world that matter anymore.”
