“What?” He stared at her wildly, kneeling beside her chair. “What about a birthing class? Do you know how to breathe? I’ve never been in labor before. I don’t know anything about breathing.”

“GRAYDON, SHUT UP,” she shouted.

His flow of words stopped. He snapped his mouth shut and stared at her.

She stroked his hair. “I’m not even sure I’m p-pregnant. I’ve never been pregnant before, either, so I’m not sure how it would feel. I can just sense something. Something’s changed in my energy, and I’ve been too scared to say anything, in case it might not be true, and oh gods, I want it so badly.”

She started to shake again. That pulled him together like nothing else had.

Taking her into his arms, he told her gently, “Ssh, it’s all right, Bel. Whatever the answer is, it’s going to be okay. We’ll get through it together.”

She buried her face in his neck. “Promise?”

Cupping the back of her head, he told her in a calm, steady voice, “I swear it.”

With his free hand, he pulled out his cell phone. Behind her back, he scrolled through his contacts until he reached the number for the healer on call that evening at the Tower. With one thumb, he typed out a text:

EMERGENCY, MY APT NOW.

Not five minutes later, he heard running footsteps in the hall. Someone pounded on his door. He distinctly heard Aryal say, “Kick it in.”

So much for his calm and soothing act.

Don’t kick it in! he shouted telepathically.

He was too late. The door splintered. Aryal, Quentin, and the on-call healer – Peter – rushed in.

At the crash, Bel startled violently. She lifted her face from Graydon’s neck to stare at the three intruders. When she spoke, she was back to enunciating again. “What. On. Earth.”

They had upset Bel. He snarled wordlessly at the trio.

Eyes widening, Aryal threw out her hands. “What?! You said it was an emergency!”

“Yes,” he snapped. “I’m sorry.” He turned to Bel. Her mouth hung open again. “I’m sorry,” he told her. Unable to resist her beautiful, astonished face, he kissed her soft mouth quickly. “I’m still calming down. Aryal and Quentin, get out. Peter, come here.”

Quentin and Aryal backed out of the apartment.

“Just you wait,” the harpy said bitterly to her mate as they left. “Like everything else, somehow this is going to end up being my fault.”

Quentin retorted. “Seriously? Somehow, like everything else, this has become all about you?”

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

Their arguing voices faded.

Graydon met Bel’s brimming gaze. Self-consciously, he told her, “I’ll acknowledge I might have overreacted a bit.”

Her face shook. Oh gods, she wasn’t going to burst into tears again, was she?

Laughter pealed out of her. Bright and silvery, the sound danced around the room, like bubbles floating in a glass of champagne. Hanging on his neck, she laughed so hard tears came to her eyes.

It was such a happy sound, it took him over completely. Entranced, he soaked up every delicious, intoxicating moment.

The healer, Peter, had relaxed. Laconically, he said, “I’m pretty sure someone who laughs that hard is going to make their medical emergency worse. Maybe burst a spleen.”

Bel hiccuped and stared at Graydon accusingly.

After a moment, he offered her a small, sheepish grin. “There could have been one. You never know.”

She broke into peals of laughter again.

“Looks like my work here is done,” Peter said. “You’re welcome.”

When he started to edge toward the broken door, Graydon told him, “Not so fast, bucko. Come over here.”

Sobering, Peter strode over and squatted beside them. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Despite himself, Graydon bristled at the other male’s nearness.

Wiping her face, Bel sobered too. Stroking Graydon’s arm, she told Peter, “Nothing wrong, exactly. I just think I might be p-pregnant, but I can’t tell for sure and we both panicked. Can you help us?”

Like virtually everybody else in the Tower, Peter’s expression softened as he looked at her. “Obviously, I’m not an obstetrician. My specialty is acute trauma – all of the Tower’s on-call healers are essentially ER doctors. But I might be able to give you a simple yes or no, so you can at least sleep tonight. Then you can follow up with a doctor of your own choice. How does that sound?”

“Okay, yes,” she said. “Thank you.”

Peter looked at Graydon. “If I’m going to scan her, I’m going to have to touch her. Get in control of yourself, or leave the room.”

With an unpleasant shock, he realized he was growling, low in his throat. Bel hooked fingers underneath his chin and turned his face back to her.

“Hey, you’ve got this,” she said softly. “You can do it. Don’t drive the nice healer away, especially after you were the one to call him here – stop that, don’t look at him. Eyes here, Graydon. Look at me.”

He concentrated on the sound of her voice, the delicate rose color of her cheeks, the expression of love and lingering laughter in her eyes.

“That’s it, I’m done,” said Peter. As his head snapped around, the healer stood and backed away rapidly, hands up. “All I did was a quick scan – a peek in and out again.” As they stared at him, the healer grinned. “Congratulations to both of you. You are, in fact, pregnant. I couldn’t be happier for you.”

Pregnant. Or, as Bel had said, Preg. Nant.