The second scan was different from the first.
Not clinically — the physician was the same, the room was the same, the specific neutral-territory light through the window was the same. But the quality of receiving it was different. The first time, she'd been ambushed by the sound. The second time, she was ready for it and was ambushed by something else entirely: how ready she was.
Twelve weeks. The heartbeat, stronger now. The shape of something becoming specific.
Zevran took her hand when the monitor came on. Not because she'd reached for him — she hadn't, she'd been holding her own hands in her lap — but because he knew the second before she needed it. The mate bond doing its navigation.
She didn't close her eyes this time.
She watched.
The physician moved through the measurements w
