The Nameless Luna – Book Three: For Her, He Falls

Tristan
I follow the sound of anxious whispers past the sliding glass doors and out into the garden of the Villa du Lac. I could sense the nervous tension that had been building over the past few days in my mate, but I couldn’t see her just yet.
I’d tried talking to her earlier, but she’d just brushed me off, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something troubling her. Uncertainty, excitement, and strange anxiety echoed to me through the bond, and I could feel her trying to shut me out.
It was unlike Iris to push me away, and it was even more unlike her to act so secretively. After a disastrous attempt to throw Nico a surprise party for his birthday, we’d all realized just how terrible she is at hiding things. Before we mated, before the broken curse and the war, Iris had tried to keep things from me. She’d been ashamed of her scars, and she’d done everything in her power to drive distance between us in an attempt to protect me. It’s a good thing she never felt inclined to lie to me outright.
My mate wears her emotions on her eyes. She’s absolutely rubbish at hiding them, particularly from me and especially now that our bond is complete. Her feelings radiate off her like a soft glow, and her thoughts often tickle the back of my mind.
My senses are flooded with the intoxicatingly sweet scent of flowers in full bloom in the garden. Life seemed to thrive under her touch, and the blossoms of our home have never looked lovelier. I round the corner and find Lucy and Iris sitting on the edge of the little fountain. They’re leaning in close to each other, their foreheads almost touching as Lucy whispers something excitedly.
I can be quiet when I want to be, but Iris’s lips go still, her eyes flickering up from her friend as she senses me approaching. Her gaze darts back to Lucy as the two of them straighten and go quiet as if I hadn’t just walked into something I wasn’t supposed to see.
‘Hey, boss,’ Lucy says with a too-eager smile as Iris avoids my gaze. ‘I thought you were out hunting with Mark.’
‘We came back early. I’ve never known a wolf with such a terrible sense of smell as your brother. It’s a good thing Nico is our tracker. Mark couldn’t even find one rabbit,’ I say carefully, monitoring their reactions.
Lucy snorts in amusement, unable to disagree with my playful jab at her brother’s tracking skills.
Iris clears her throat. ‘Lucy, would you mind giving me a minute alone with my mate?’
Lucy’s eyes widen momentarily as she looks between Iris and me, the corners of her lips twitching.
‘Of course. I’ll go see if Amara needs any help in the library,’ Lucy says at last.
The vicious gash on Amara’s face has all but healed, but her left eye will never open again. Despite this, she remains as graceful and proud as she was before, and she’s taken to reading in the library in a supposed effort to exercise her good eye. But she’s happy to spend her days surrounded by books even without the excuse.
I watch without a word as Lucy bounces up and slips past me, hurrying away before I can ask her anything.
‘Sit with me, my king,’ Iris says softly, her lilting voice drawing my attention back to her. She pats the stone beside her, a patient smile gracing her perfectly plump lips.
I can feel her excitement through her bond, but she’s trying to hold it back, putting up a wall around her mind to keep me from seeing whatever is causing it. She’s never shut me out like this before, and the attempt at secrecy is clumsy and obvious. It feels like if I just scratched at the edge of that wall, it would collapse like a dam, and whatever thought she is holding back would flood out.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask her. If there is something she doesn’t want me to know, she must have her reasons. I don’t like it, but I respect it. Besides, something about her buzzing emotions through the bond gives me the sense that whatever she’s not saying isn’t a bad thing, and it’s only a matter of time before she lets me in.
‘Would you just sit?’ she says with a laugh. ‘I’m trying to tell you. I have news.’
I remain standing, crossing my arms over my chest in a physical attempt to hold back my restlessness. All this mystery isn’t like her. We don’t keep secrets from each other anymore. Never again.
She sighs, rolling her eyes and shifting on the edge of the fountain to face me better.
‘Very well then. It’s not like I’d be able to surprise you with it anyway,’ she concedes. ‘I’ve suspected it for a few days now, but I needed Lucy to confirm it. I wanted to be sure, and she’s becoming quite the healer, wouldn’t you agree?’
A healer? Why did my mate need a healer?
‘Yes, she is, but why did—’ I start, but she raises a hand to silence me, and I bite my tongue.
‘Would you just listen?’ she insists, laughing again. Her excitement is stronger now, trickling out through the cracks in those walls. Joy, fear, anticipation, and love swirled inside her, reverberating in me through our bond.
After a moment, she lowers the hand that she’d raised to shush me, but instead of setting it back down on her lap, she rests it on her abdomen, her fingers splayed across her stomach.
News. A healer to confirm her suspicions. Her palm against her belly. The pieces begin to click into place in my head.
Could it be?
My eyes widen, darting between her stomach and her face.  ‘You’re not… I mean, are you…?’ I trail off, almost afraid to speak the words out loud as if doing so might jinx it.
‘Pregnant? Expecting? With child?’ she asks with a giggle, unable to help herself. She can’t hold back a moment longer, and the full range of her emotions crashes against me through the bond as she allows the wall between us to crumble into sand.
I stagger back, the news nearly knocking me off my feet.
‘Yes,’ Iris breathes at last, but she knows I already felt it. ‘Tristan… we’re going to have a baby.’
A baby. I’m going to be a father. We’re going to have a child. Holy shit.
Iris frowns slightly at my stunned silence, searching my face. Her joy settles slightly as concern creeps into her beautiful features. Her jaw clenches as she ponders the possibility that I’m not pleased by this development.
I erupt with laughter, shaking myself out of my shocked stupor as it finally sinks in. The sound eases the sudden tension inside Iris, and she smiles once again.
‘We’re going to be parents?’ I ask like an idiot, awe and disbelief still lingering like an afterthought.
There was a time when the two of us believed we’d never be together. We’d never mate. The possibility of a child had never even crossed my mind, and I hadn’t dared consider it after everything that happened. Being with Iris has been reward enough, and I’d made my peace with that being it. She is enough for me. She always has been, and I am lucky just to have her by my side.
But a child? To call it a blessing is too small a word.
An unimaginable happiness fills me as I rush forward to her and scoop her off the side of the fountain, picking her up in my arms and spinning her in the air around me. Iris yelps in surprise, her protests quickly morphing into laughter as she wraps her arms around my neck, her eyes gleaming.
‘Yes! We’re going to be parents. You’re going to be a father!’
I stop spinning her long enough for her toes to brush against the ground, setting her down as gently as humanly possible. I rest my forehead against hers, and she tilts her chin up to kiss me tenderly, her lips softer and sweeter than any petals in this garden.
The garden.
I chuckle, and Iris quirks her head in a curious motion, her eyes still gleaming with the purest joy.
‘What’s so funny?’ she asks, though she can’t stop smiling any more than I can.
‘Gods, I hope it’s a girl,’ I say, and she narrows her eyes playfully at the teasing in my tone.
‘Why?’ Iris asks cautiously.
‘Because I can’t imagine what we’ll call him if it’s a boy. I know you too well, my love. There is just no way you’ll name our child after anything other than a flower.’
‘Maybe,’ she says with a sly smile, something glinting behind her otherworldy eyes. The mark on her chest shimmers as it catches the sunlight, making her next words seem like so much more than just mischievous banter:
‘Who knows what comes next?’