He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, dark eyes fixed on her as she sat quietly in the soft morning light. Diana cradled their child in her arms, feeding the baby with a careful, gentle rhythm. Each tiny movement—the tilt of her head, the curve of her fingers, the way she hummed softly—made his chest tighten in a way that no challenge, no fight, no display of strength ever had.
The villa around them was silent, except for the faint cooing of the baby. He watched her carefully, noticing the soft rise and fall of her shoulders, the way her hair caught the sunlight like a halo. She was utterly absorbed in this small, perfect life, and yet he felt a rush of awe—she was theirs, and she had chosen to trust him.
He stepped closer, careful not to startle them, and felt an instinctive purr vibrate low in his chest. Not in beast form, but in that almost animalistic satisfaction that only she could awaken in him. The thought struck him: he had always been strong, fierce, untouchable. But this—watching her, seeing her care for their child—was a power unlike any other.
The baby stirred slightly, tiny fists brushing against her collarbone. Diana whispered softly, a tune he had come to recognize as hers, and the baby settled again. He couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips, rare and unguarded. How had he earned this? How had he been allowed to find this kind of peace in a world that was usually chaos?
He thought of the sanctuary, of the rules, of the family pressures he had fought against to keep her safe. Every risk he had taken, every night he had prowled on instinct alone—it had been for this. For her. For them.
Stepping even closer, he crouched slightly, just enough for his shadow to brush over them, protective without intruding. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, to let her feel that he was there—but he restrained himself. He knew these moments were hers, intimate and tender, and he would not disturb them.
Yet even as he watched quietly, he felt his chest tighten with pride. "Lucky," he murmured to himself, barely audible. "I am… unbelievably lucky."
He stayed like that for a long moment, just observing. He let himself absorb every detail—the small, human details that made her so entirely real and utterly his. And in that silence, a quiet certainty settled over him: he would do anything to protect this happiness, to keep them safe, to honor the fragile, beautiful life they had created together.
Even if the world outside tried to intrude, even if dangers came calling, even if instincts threatened to take over—he would not let go. Not now. Not ever.
And as he watched, Diana glanced up, catching his gaze. She smiled softly, a knowing, affectionate smile, and he felt his heart shift again, full and heavy with emotion. She was his. Their child was theirs. And in that quiet morning light, the world outside ceased to exist.
He carefully stepped closer, letting his eyes roam over the tiny, delicate form cradled in her arms. The baby's soft, rhythmic breathing was mesmerizing, and he felt a shiver of awe pass through him. "May I?" he asked quietly, his voice low, gentle.
Diana looked up at him, a small, trusting smile forming on her lips. "Of course," she whispered, extending the infant toward him.
He lifted the baby with reverence, supporting the fragile body against his chest. The warmth pressed into him, tiny fingers curling around his own hand instinctively. A subtle thrill ran through him—a mix of protectiveness, pride, and love so raw it made his chest ache.
"You've done so much," he said, looking down at her as she sank back into the sofa cushions. His dark eyes softened, shadowed with concern and admiration. "You've carried this child, given them life… and now it's time for you to take care of yourself."
She shook her head lightly, smiling faintly. "I'm fine," she said, but he caught the slight tremor in her shoulders, the tired edge in her voice.
"No," he interrupted firmly, though there was warmth in his tone. "You deserve a proper rest. A warm shower. Let me hold them for a while. You've earned it… more than you know."
He adjusted the baby carefully against his chest, feeling the small body press close and sense the heartbeat beneath his palm. He could already sense the tiny life stirring, responding to his warmth, his scent, his protection.
Diana finally nodded, a look of relief in her eyes. She leaned back, allowing herself to be pampered for the first time in months. "Thank you," she murmured.
He gave her a brief, reassuring smile, his instincts alert as always, even in this tender moment. "Rest now," he said softly. "I've got this."
As she rose, heading toward the bathroom, he kept the baby close, feeling every movement, every tiny sigh. A small, involuntary purr rumbled deep in his chest—not loud, not intrusive—but a sound that conveyed the completeness he felt in this quiet, intimate moment.
He watched her go, heart swelling with a mix of protectiveness and wonder. Here she was, the woman who had become everything to him, trusting him with their most precious gift. And he would never, ever let anything threaten them.
Holding the baby, he rocked slightly, letting the soft rhythm of their tiny heartbeat sync with his own. He could feel the life he and Diana had created, and a quiet smile curved his lips. No matter what the world demanded, no matter what his family said, this… this was theirs.
He settled back onto the sofa, the baby cradled securely against his chest. Diana had returned from her shower, wrapped in a soft robe, her hair still damp and smelling faintly of lavender. She sank beside him, careful not to disturb the fragile bundle in his arms.
He shifted slightly, instinctively curling one leg around hers, letting his body act like a shield. His instincts hummed low, primal—the same that surfaced when he was in his panther form—but now tempered by the soft domesticity of the moment. He could feel every small movement, every tiny breath, and his chest vibrated subtly as a deep, quiet purr rose in him without thought.
Diana glanced at him, smiling softly. "You're… purring," she murmured, fingers brushing lightly over his arm.
He gave a small, almost embarrassed smile, tilting his head slightly toward her hand. "I… suppose it's just instinct," he said, though he made no effort to stop it. It felt right, comforting, protective. "The baby… you… it's all… too much to hold in."
She laughed lightly, the sound mingling with the soft cooing of the infant. "I like it," she whispered. "It's… cute."
He allowed himself a small, soft chuckle, leaning his head toward her hand, letting her stroke the side of his face as if he were a massive, gentle cat. His body relaxed, curling slightly around her as if drawing both of them into a safe, protective cocoon. Even the baby shifted closer, tiny hands grasping the fabric of his shirt, seeking warmth and comfort.
He glanced down at Diana, his dark eyes softening. "You see… I am not only your protector," he said quietly, "but I am yours. And theirs." His gaze flicked to the baby for a brief moment, then back at her. "We belong to each other now. All of us."
A small smile tugged at her lips, and she rested her head against his shoulder. "I know," she murmured. "And… I feel safe."
He tilted his head slightly, burying his cheek in her hair for just a moment longer than necessary. A subtle scent of her shampoo and the warm comfort of her presence filled him. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head and adjusted the baby to ensure their warmth radiated evenly. His chest vibrated again, a quiet, comforting purr that seemed to communicate without words: I am here. Always.
They stayed like that for a long while—curled together, a tiny family wrapped in blankets and quiet intimacy. The weight of the outside world, of scheming relatives and power struggles, melted away for this moment. Only the three of them existed.
And as he traced a finger over the baby's small hand, feeling the life they had created, he silently vowed to never let anything threaten this fragile, perfect world they had carved together.