Ice crystallizes in his eyes. That familiar muscle ticks in his jaw. His shoulders bunch with predatory tension.
Then his gaze finds me in our bed, and the frost melts away. The twinkle in his eye reignites.
He sets the phone aside and rejoins me. The mattress dips as he slides under the covers. His arms cage me against his chest, one broad palm cupped possessively over my stomach where our child grows. His breath fans warm against my neck, and despite that flash of darkness I just witnessed, I've never felt more protected.
"Sleep, Nova," he murmurs, pressing a kiss behind my ear. "All is well."
I should ask what message disturbed his peace. I should worry about what new threat lurks on the horizon.
But right now, wrapped in Sam's strength, feeling our baby flutter beneath his palm, I
