Page 192 of Power Shift

He’s half-naked and gleaming with sweat when he steps into view. My eyes widen, heat sweltering in my belly as I focus on keeping them from crossing.

Sweaty abs are cruel, wicked things.

Brows lifting, he gawks at me. “Oh, we’re so getting you pregnant.”

“Dash!” Landon blurts out.

I strain with a laugh, trying my best not to let it out and risk waking Calla. Landon and Ronan follow Dash, stumbling into the living room, equally as sweaty as the other two. They’re careful not to go too far in, and I appreciate it more than they know.

“What’s going on in here?” Landon asks Dash.

Dash nudges his head in my direction. “Look at Briar.”

The only sound in the place comes from Calla as she snores. Then, a thick swallow.

Landon grips his waist in a hold so tight I’ll be checking for bruises in the shapes of his fingertips later. “You’re holding a baby.”

“I am,” I reply, mouth twitching with the need to smile.

Sadie clears her throat quietly, no doubt hiding a laugh. “She’ll make a great mother of her own one day.”

Ronan’s eyes are dark, more black than brown as he rasps, “You’re right.”

“How about let’s focus on making sure we can help out the only actual mother first,” I say, cheeks pulsing with a blush.

The last thing I want to do here is perfume in the middle of Sadie’s living room, and we’ll be on a quick trip to Fucking Land if they don’t stop looking at me like they want to get me pregnant right here, right now.

Even if the idea of that doesn’t sound so far away anymore.

Landon’s the last to look away. His lingering stare betrays everything he’s thinking.

Someday, Briar. I promise.

EXTENDED EPILOGUE

TWO MONTHS LATER

JASPER

“I always thought this was supposed to hurt,” Briar says.

Ronan rolls so close to her that his knees bang the leg of the tattoo table. “It depends on the area. Some are more sensitive than others.”

“Which one of yours hurt the most?”

“That’s easy,” Dash butts in, prodding the back of Briar’s calf through her black lace tights. “The one he has right here. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to seeing Ronan cry.”

“Really? I thought that would have been when he got the . . . you know,” she mutters, meeting Ronan’s dark eyes.

“The ladder?” he asks.

The tattoo artist starts shaking with a silent laugh before Landon clears his throat, glaring at him. Our poor pack leader has had one hell of a time trying not to be an intimidating asshole during Briar’s first tattoo appointment.

“I was the one who gave him those piercings, Briar. You don’t have to worry about what you say in this shop. I’ve just about heard and seen it all,” the artist, a guy who goes by John-Boy, tells her.

I’m positive if it were a woman tattooing Briar, Landon wouldn’t be hovering over the head of the table with a constant scowl on his face. Briar hasn’t seemed to mind his protective behaviour in the slightest, though.

She never does.

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