Clare POV:
I doubled over again, the pain ripping through my lower stomach like something was clawing from the inside. I barely registered the hands wrapping around me—strong, firm, but oddly careful. There was this strange... flutter, like static under my skin, right where he touched me.
"Let go," I tried to mutter, weak and pissed, but the words fell apart in my throat as another cramp hit, harder this time.
I was being moved. Carried.
Goddamn it, Reed.
I thrashed weakly in his hold, more from instinct than strength. But his grip was unshakable, like he didn't even notice I was struggling. I was so not in the mood for his macho-man, alpha-wannabe bullshit.
Then suddenly I wasn't in his arms anymore. Something soft touched my back. A bed?
I cracked one eye open and saw him looming over me, his face horrified—like I was a dying thing he didn't know how to save. Like he'd just witnessed an exorcism.
I blinked, confused. "What the hell…?"
Then he reached for my waistband.
