“This will work,” she told him, “Trust me.”

He did trust her. He’d let her reveal his full story to the press. He’d worked with the FBI, for her. He’d bled, he’d died—all for her.

Trust? That was the least he’d given to her.

She turned away, pulling his hand so that he had no choice but to follow her. Always.

“Oh, and I’m pregnant . . .” she tossed back at him in a rush.

For a minute there, Cain wondered if his heart had stopped.

Eve glanced back. A flicker of worry had her eyes scanning his face. “I thought . . . um, you’re still good with that plan, right?”

That plan. Marrying her. Having a home. Having a family.

“I know it’s sooner than we’d thought,” she said, the words coming fast, the way they always did when she was nervous, “and I didn’t expect—but I’m glad and I hope you—”

Cain kissed her. Her lips were open, so perfect, and his mouth pressed against her.

This is happiness.

The thought whispered through his mind. The same thought he’d had months before, right on the same beach.

Then another followed it, a vow he’d made to himself.

I will be better.

He’d protect the child, cherish him or her . . . just as much as he cherished Eve.

In the distance, Cain heard the faintest echo of a wolf’s howl. His head lifted.

“Cain?” Eve questioned softly. “Your eyes . . .”

He knew the fire lit them. But the fire wasn’t just about rage. Not anymore. He smiled at her and said, “I’m good with the plan.”

More than good. The plan was pretty f**king perfect to him.

Eve hugged him, squeezing tight.

Over her shoulder, he stared off into the distance. The howl was gone. Pulled away by the crash of the surf. But he’d heard it, and Cain knew what would make the perfect wedding gift for his bride.

He just had to track that wolf. . . maybe he’d call in a blood debt for that job. That vamp Ryder did still owe him.

Cain smiled . . . and began to plan.