Lucivar's fingers shook as he reached for his grandson, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. His eyes softened. He held the child with the kind of awe reserved for miracles. He was dazed.
"I suppose brief congratulations are in order, then," Gabriel drawled, breaking the silence. He shifted on his feet, too proud to admit the child's presence rattled him, too foolish to mask it well. His eyes darted to Lord Mason, silently demanding some clue about what in the gods' names was happening. Mason seemed far too interested in the floor.
Damien cleared his throat. He turned slightly, his gaze softening when it landed on Luna. The contrast was striking—fire for his enemies, tenderness for his mate. "Would you please tell Eryk and Morvakar to bring them in?"
