Jane

l can’t be pregnant… I can’t.

It’s too soon – too complicated. I don’t have the brain space to focus on such a momentous possibility, let alone figure out what it would mean for Ethan and I.

We’re already stuck in a holding pattern, trying not to get ahead of ourselves with feelings while our lives are in shambles… at least I am. Ethan seems as determined as ever that we be mated for the rest of time.

I’ve been terribly anxious ever since the possibility entered my mind, and as much as I want to find out whether my fears are real or just paranoia, I’m afraid to find out the truth. Under different circumstances l’d go to the doctor at the first opportunity, but I’m not sure I can cope with one more worry on my plate. Maybe it’s a completely escapist mindset – like an ostrich sticking its head in the sand- but as long as there’s a chance l’m not pregnant, I can go on pretending like everything is normal. The moment I find out otherwise, however, they’ll be no ignoring it.

It’s not as if it’s outside the realm of possibilities.

After all, I’ve always struggled with motion sickness. It’s more the fact that I haven’t gone back into heat yet, but that can easily happen with stress. Another time l might be ashamed of the impulse to hide and ignore my problems, but I’m protecting myself now. If I put any more weight on my overburdened shoulders, I know l’ll crumple under the pressure.

When I left Paisley with Ethan, I got very good at compartmentalizing my emotions, and those skills have come in very handy over the last few days. I put the possibility of pregnancy into a lock box in the back of my mind and focused solely on getting my pups back, but every now and then the idea escapes, slipping out of its secluded corner to torment me at the most inconvenient of times – like now.

“You okay?” Ethan asks, searching my features as I try on potential disguises. “Are the clothes too hot?

“No, it’s fine” I lie, giving myself a little shake as I study my reflection in the mirror, “what do you think?”

He turns me to face him, even though he could see me perfectly well before -I think he just wanted an excuse to touch me, After a moment’s consideration, he shakes his head, still not releasing me. “You’re too pretty.”

I snort, turning back to the mirror. Those are the last words l’d use to describe myself right now. I’m wearing boys’ clothing, with my bre*asts bound and my hair piled up under a wig and cap. My slender figure has lost any semblance of femininity in the baggy garments, and while some women might look stunning in pixie haircuts, l am not one of them. “You don’t have to flatter me Ethan.” l tell my mate, “it’s okay that I don’t look my best.”

“I’m not trying to flatter you, Jane.” Ethan replies seriously. “You’re too pretty to pass for a boy. This isn’t enough.”

“1 think you’re biased.” I tell him-wryly, turning my head from left to right and studying the lines of my face.

insists. “Linda, can you

the bathroom, dressed up in a

grumbles when she appears.

half-bad page boy. She’s considerably taller than I am,

look great.” Ethan tells her, if we give you a beard it will be perfect, now what do you think about Jane?” He asks, turning my body towards her. This time he doesn’t remove his hands after positioning me, keeping

subtly groping her:” Linda chortles. “But it’s not quite believable

ear. “I think

going to be?” l ask saucily,

replies with a small smile, “”‘m going to age myself up a bit. Gray

be an old man and two boys. No one will

Linda remarks, “but what about our scents? We’re both marked now” she reminds him with a charming

some cologne to disguise that.” I share, slipping out of Ethan’s hold long enough to do some digging in my bag. lt hadn’t been easy to create a new scent on this journey – surprisingly the ship’s supplies provided half the ingredients I needed, and Ethan found

death warmed over was absolutely miserable. Still, I managed for my

sprays a bit on her wrist and inhales, coughing when it hits her

moving back to Ethan’s side and letting him slip

assuming you two can keep your hands off one

brow. “Why? We could pretend to

eyes, I shake my head. “She’s right, we’ll draw more attention

saying we’re a couple?” Ethan asks, waggling his eyebrows

not an option.” l correct, giggling

days in close quarters, with me begging him to give me a bit of attention and he steadfastly resisting my

Linda clears

from me at

a

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