"No, just the ones who are from the Squire families. You can't exactly explain to the average human that there's an immortal Viking living in the basement who they won't remember seeing or speaking to. So the ones like Chris's mother never know I exist."
She watched as he sat down and pulled off his boots. The man had exceptionally large feet...
"Chris's mother isn't a Squire?" she asked, trying to distract herself from the fact that those bare feet made her long to see more bare parts of him.
"No. His father met her while she was working at a local diner. He was so in love with her that I didn't interfere."
"Why did they only have Chris?"
He sighed as he placed his boots under his desk. "She couldn't carry children very easily. She had three miscarriages before his birth. Even Chris was born seven weeks premature. Once he was born, I told his father that I didn't want either of them to go through another pregnancy."
She was surprised by that, given how important his lineage was to him. "Did you really?"
He nodded. "How could I ask them to keep doing that? It almost killed her to give birth and the miscarriages always broke her heart."
It was an admirable thing he'd done. She was glad to know he wasn't truly the barbarian she had feared him to be earlier. "You're a good man, Wulf. Most people wouldn't have thought of someone else."
He snorted. "Chris would disagree with you."
"I think Chris would disagree with a signpost."
She was rewarded with a real laugh from him. It was deep and pleasing, and sent a raw shiver through her. She really loved the sound of his accented voice.
Oh, don't go there...
She had to do something to keep her thoughts off how delectable he was.
"Well," she said, yawning, "I'm tired, barely pregnant, and really could use a good night's sleep." She indicated the closed door behind her. "Bathroom?"
He nodded.
"Okay. I'm going to change and then go to sleep."
"There's a new toothbrush in the medicine cabinet."
"Thanks."
Cassandra left him to get ready for bed. Alone in the bathroom, she opened the cabinet and paused. Inside were all manner of medical supplies, including a scalpel and sutures. Wulf must not be able to go to a doctor any more than she could.
As she reached for the new toothbrush, she remembered the shots the Daimons had fired into him.
Her gaze went back to the supplies.
He must have had to tend his own injuries. Alone. He hadn't even said a word about them. Nor had they existed in her dreams.
Then she thought of the way Stryker had healed when she stabbed him and wondered if Wulf's body had the same regenerating ability.
"Poor Wulf," she breathed as she changed her clothes.
It was so strange to be here. With him in his domain. Not once had she spent the night with a man. The few guys she'd slept with had been momentary flings and she had left their places as soon as she could. There was no need to stay and have them become attached to each other.
But she was attached to Wulf. A lot more than she should be. Or was she? He was the father of her baby. Shouldn't they have some degree of closeness?
It only seemed right.
She left the bathroom to find him sitting fully clothed, except for his bare feet, in the recliner in the sitting area.
"You can take the bed," he said. "I'll take the sofa."
"You don't have to, you know. It's not like you can make me pregnant or anything."
He didn't look amused by her words.
Cassandra closed the distance between them and took him by the hand. "C'mon, Big Guy. There's no need for you to wedge that extremely tall body into a small couch when you have a perfectly good bed waiting for you."
"I've never gone to bed with a woman before."
She arched a brow at that.
"To sleep," he clarified. "I've never spent the night with one."
"Never?"
He shook his head.
Boy, they were a lot more alike than she would ever have imagined. "Well, you're never too old for new experiences. Well, maybe you are, but in most cases that's a true statement."
His scowl deepened to that familiar level. "Is everything a joke to you?"
"No," she said honestly as she led him toward the bed. "But humor is how I get through the horrors of my life. I mean, come on. It's laugh or cry and crying just takes too much energy that I need to make it through the day, you know?"
She let go of him to braid her hair.
Wulf took her hands in his and stopped her from plaiting it. "I don't like for you to do that."
She swallowed at the hungry look in his midnight eyes. She had an odd sense of deja vu here in his room with that look on his face. Even though she shouldn't, she liked to see the fire in his dark gaze. Liked the sensation of his hands on hers.
Or better yet, the sensation of his hands on her body...
Wulf knew he had no business being with her, no business sharing a bed or anything else, and yet he couldn't keep himself from it.
He wanted to touch her skin for real this time. Wanted to have her legs wrapped around him as he let the heat of her body soothe his weary heart.
Don't.
The command was so strong that he almost heeded it, but Wulf Tryggvason had never been the kind of man to listen to orders.
Not even his own.
He tilted her head up so that he could see the passionate heat in her green eyes. It scorched him. Her lips were parted, welcoming.
He skimmed his fingers down the line of her jaw until he buried them in her strawberry-blond hair. Then he took possession of her mouth. She tasted of warmth.