He should have heard her coming.
He always heard everything — footsteps on tile, a heartbeat behind a wall, the softest rustle of clothing. But with Diana tucked against him, her warmth soothing his instincts, her fingers tracing lazy circles over his arm, he was… distracted.
And he had definitely been purring.
A low, steady vibration against her shoulder. Soft. Content. Embarrassing.
He felt her smile every time the rumble slipped out of him — and he tried, he really tried, to suppress it.
Failed miserably.
Which is exactly the moment the door swung open.
"Well, well, well," Mira's voice sang, far too amused for his liking. "What in the nine sacred forests am I looking at?"
His eyes flew open.
Diana stiffened slightly, glancing up.
Mira stood in the doorway holding a tray of tea, eyebrows raised so high it was a miracle they didn't leave her forehead. "Is the terrifying heir of the Shadowcrest family… purring on a sofa?"
"I was not," he snapped instantly, sitting up as if pulled by a string.
Diana tried (and failed) to hide a laugh.
Mira gasped dramatically. "Oh my stars, you WERE!"
"I was breathing," he insisted.
"Breathing does not sound like a baby thunderstorm," Mira countered, striding forward with the confidence of someone who had known him since childhood. She shoved the tray onto the nearest table. "Go on. Make the sound again."
"I do not perform."
"Oh? Then what was that a minute ago?" She imitated a rumble so offensively inaccurate that he felt personally attacked.
Diana covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter.
He glared. "Out."
"No."
"Mira—"
"Absolutely not."
She plopped herself into the armchair across from them, crossing one leg over the other. "I'm staying right here because this—" she gestured grandly between him and Diana "—is the single cutest thing I've seen in years, and I refuse to let you pretend you're not soft."
He growled. A real growl.
Mira just grinned wider. "There it is! The signature brooding-cousin sound."
Diana leaned against him gently and whispered, "It's okay… you don't have to be embarrassed."
He froze.
Her voice was soft. Warm. Understanding.
And it hit him somewhere deep.
Mira noticed immediately. Her smug expression softened into something more sincere.
"Oh," she murmured, "you really care about her."
His jaw tensed. "She is carrying my child."
"That's not what I meant." Mira tilted her head. "You're attached."
He didn't answer. Couldn't.
Diana's hand found his again.
He curled his fingers around hers — slow, careful, protective.
Mira smiled, not mocking now but… approving, in her own annoying way.
"Well," she stood, dusting off her skirt, "just know I support this. Even if your purring nearly killed me from secondhand embarrassment."
"I will throw you out the window," he muttered.
"I'd land on my feet," she shot back cheerfully.
She winked at Diana. "Take care of him. He's emotionally incompetent."
"Mira," he growled dangerously.
"Alright, alright, I'm going," she laughed, backing toward the door. "Just keep your purring to a reasonable volume!"
The door closed behind her.
Silence fell.
Diana rested her head back on his shoulder, fingers brushing his chest.
"…you were purring," she whispered.
He sighed, defeated. "…yes. Apparently I was."
"And I liked it."
Something in him warmed — hot, bright, undeniable.
He pulled her closer, lips brushing her hair.
"Then… I won't hide it next time."
The walk had been meant to be simple. Quiet. Peaceful.
Just the two of them, moving slowly through the gardens behind the villa while the late afternoon sun stretched long golden lines across the grass. She liked the fresh air. He liked watching her breathe easier.
But he heard them before she did — unfamiliar footsteps, unfamiliar voices.
Guests. Uninvited. Worse: males.
His entire body reacted before he could even think. He stepped ahead of her, blocking her with his body, one arm sweeping back to quietly guide her behind him.
"Stay close," he murmured, the tone low, dangerous.
The two strangers — distant relatives from a minor branch of the family — rounded the path and froze when they saw him.
And then they noticed her.
Their eyes narrowed. Assessed. Judged.
Something hot rippled across his chest.
"She shouldn't be out alone," one muttered to the other.
"She isn't alone," he said sharply.
The men stiffened at his tone. Even without shifting, his authority pressed against the air like a storm about to break.
"She's your sanctuary female, yes?" the older one asked. "Then she should be supervised. Owned females are too—"
He didn't let him finish.
"Finish that sentence," he said quietly, "and I'll break your jaw."
The man's mouth snapped shut.
He felt Diana's fingers brush the back of his shirt — not grabbing, just making sure he was really there. Instantly his tension went from steel to razor-sharp.
"Go," he ordered.
They went.
And he didn't turn until their footsteps had retreated to nothing. Only then did he exhale, shoulders dropping slightly.
She touched his arm gently. "You stood in front of me… like you didn't want them to even look at me."
He didn't deny it.
"I didn't," he said. "I don't."
Her eyes widened softly — surprised, touched, warmed.
Before he could ruin the moment by explaining himself, the wind shifted… and instincts slammed into him like a physical blow.
Their scents were still in the air.
Unfamiliar males. Too close. Too recent.
His skin prickled. His blood burned. His pupils sharpened.
His other side stirred.
...
He didn't shift fully — not yet — but his control slipped.
His senses sharpened. Muscles tightened. The world focused around her.
His tail slipped into existence with a soft shimmer of fur and instinct, swinging low behind him, twitching sharply at the tip. His ears pricked slightly, catching every sound in a half-shifted form.
She gasped softly.
Not in fear.
In awe.
He moved in front of her again, but this time it was pure instinct. He paced once — slow, controlled, every step precise — between her and the direction the males had gone.
She reached out.
Her fingers brushed his arm.
His tail twitched again.
He froze.
Slowly, he turned to face her. His pupils were wide, almost fully cat-like now, and he studied her with a mix of protectiveness and something deeper, something he didn't dare name.
"Are you… alright?" she whispered.
He stepped close, lowering his head just enough to breathe in her scent — warm, soft, safe — letting it wash over the sharp edge of his instincts.
His voice, when it came, was deeper. Rougher.
"They came too close," he murmured, tail flicking behind him. "I didn't like it."
She swallowed, staring at him with so much softness it nearly undid him.
"I didn't feel unsafe," she said. "Not with you."
His heartbeat stumbled.
Her words grounded him — pulled him back from the instinctive haze until his breathing steadied.
The tail slowly faded. His features softened back toward human.
But his eyes remained wild where they clung to her face.
He lifted her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.
"You're mine to protect," he said quietly. "And I will never let anyone make you feel lesser or threatened. Ever."
Her cheeks warmed at his intensity… but she didn't look away.
"Then stay with me," she murmured.
He didn't step back.
He didn't even breathe for a second.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said.
And he meant it.