He watched her move around the room, soft steps barely making a sound on the polished floor. His eyes followed every motion, every small gesture, every flick of her hair. The beast inside him itched to be closer, to express his affection in ways words never could.
With a careful step, he closed the distance, low and deliberate, until he was just behind her. His hands rested lightly on her shoulders, a subtle pressure, not too tight, just grounding. She shivered slightly, and he caught it—not from fear, but from awareness of the tiniest change in her body.
Then, almost without thinking, he nipped softly at the curve of her neck. Just a touch, just a whisper of his teeth—enough to make her pulse skip and a small laugh escape her lips. She turned her head slightly, catching his dark eyes and smiling.
"I didn't hurt you," he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl of amusement.
"No," she said, leaning back just a little, trusting him completely. "That… felt kind of… nice."
He allowed himself a small, satisfied rumble, like a cat pleased with its company. His hands lingered on her shoulders, tracing gentle, protective lines, and the instinct to circle around her, to hold her, to shield her from the world, wrapped around him as naturally as breathing.
"You're safe with me," he said, voice softening, his head brushing lightly against her shoulder. The subtle scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin, and the tiny life growing within her—it all pulled at his instincts.
She rested a hand on his chest, feeling the quiet vibration of his purr-like rumble. "You're… kind of cute, you know," she whispered. "Even with all that… scary-protective panther energy."
He tilted his head, eyes glinting, and nipped again, a playful, affectionate gesture. "Cute, huh?" he said, smirking. "Perhaps. But remember, this… is mine. And I like making sure you know it."
Her laugh was soft, warm, and it made the low rumble in his chest grow. He leaned closer, burying his face in her hair, holding her longer than necessary, marking her in the most gentle, subtle way a beast could—affectionate, intimate, protective.
And as she leaned into him, relaxed and trusting, he knew: no one would ever hurt her while he was near. Not now. Not ever.
...
The morning was quiet at first, deceptively calm. He had been awake for hours, pacing the villa in near silence, ears perked, tail flicking (even in human form, the tension was visible in every line of his body). Every small sound—her breath, the faint creak of the floor, the soft rustle of her blankets—set his instincts on high alert.
Then it happened.
A sharp cry, a sudden tightening of her body. His heart jumped. Instantly, every instinct screamed at him to protect, to act, to be there.
"Diana!" His voice was low, commanding, yet tinged with fear. He dashed to her side, barely noticing the human furniture, barely thinking in anything but reflex. His hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her, feeling the tremor in her body. "It's okay… I'm here. I've got you."
She clutched his arm, gasping. "It's… happening…"
He leaned close, lowering his head instinctively, a protective shadow over her. His dark eyes searched hers, and for a fleeting second, she caught the softness, the raw panic, the desperate love hidden beneath the panther-like strength he always carried.
"Breathe with me. In… and out…" His hands moved to her stomach, feeling the tiny movements of their child. The life within her stirred, and his chest tightened, a low rumble vibrating from his throat—not a growl, but a sound of awe, of wonder.
Minutes stretched, hours might have passed. He didn't notice time. He only noticed her, the baby, the small life that was about to enter their world.
When the first cries finally filled the room, he froze for a heartbeat. Then the roar of relief, joy, and overwhelming protectiveness exploded from him. "It's… it's alive. Our child." He scooped her into his arms carefully, almost reverently, holding both mother and baby close, chest vibrating as he softly purred against her temple.
She laughed weakly, exhausted, but there was a smile in her eyes. "You… you're… so overprotective…"
"Overprotective? I've just begun," he murmured, voice low and trembling. His hands caressed the baby gently, feeling the warmth, the soft pulse, the tiny fingers curling around his. "Mine. Both of you are mine."
He glanced toward the door, imagining the world outside, the family that had tried to control, to dictate, to interfere. No one will touch you. No one will harm you. Not now. Not ever.
And then, for a brief, astonishing moment, he allowed himself to feel it all: the softness, the vulnerability, the immense love and responsibility. A gentle purr rose from deep within, vibrating through the room as he leaned closer to her, to the baby, marking them in the quietest, most intimate way he could.
"Welcome to our world," he whispered, voice low but fierce. "I'll protect you… always."
The villa was still, the sun casting light across the room. But inside, there was warmth, love, and the undeniable presence of a new life—one that had changed everything.
...
He never thought he could feel more. Yet, holding their child in his arms, watching Diana rest beside him, he discovered it: every muscle, every sense, every instinct surged with a new purpose.
The baby's tiny cries were like a signal only he could hear. His ears twitched (in human form, subtle but visible), and his body tensed before he even moved. With deliberate calm, he leaned over, taking the baby carefully, his fingers brushing over soft skin, marveling at the perfection of this new life.
Diana's hand rested on his arm, still weak from labor, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "We're a family now. Both of you… mine." His voice was low, but the certainty in it carried across the room.
The villa had never been so alive. Every creak of the floor, every rustle in the hallway, drew his attention. He was watching, always watching. Anyone near, anyone approaching—even a servant—felt the subtle weight of his presence, a quiet warning that this family was not to be disturbed.
He leaned back onto the sofa, the baby cradled against his chest, and felt Diana nuzzle into his side. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. The soft vibrations of his chest—like a deep, slow purr—soothed both mother and child.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips when the baby grasped his finger with tiny strength, and he realized how instinctive this was. Just as a panther would guard her cubs, he would guard these two. Every glance, every twitch of muscle, every careful movement was for their safety.
Diana's voice, quiet but teasing, broke the reverie. "You're like a cat, you know… always watching, always careful."
He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised, lips twitching into a subtle smile. "Perhaps," he said, soft but amused. "But unlike a cat, I won't let anyone hurt you. Or them."
That evening, as the sun dipped low, he brought blankets and cushions into the nursery, arranging everything with meticulous care. He even brought in little gifts for the baby, items he thought Diana would like too. Each movement, each small act, was laced with care, gentle attention, and… affection.
When Diana finally rested against him, exhausted from the day, he allowed himself to let the baby sleep on his chest, feeling the rhythmic pulse of life against him. He gently nuzzled her hair, a quiet, intimate gesture—cat-like, protective, yet impossibly tender.
He could hear every tiny noise—the baby stirring, her soft breaths, the faint rustle of the curtains. He could feel every vibration of the room. Every instinct screamed that this was his world, and he would protect it fiercely.
And in the quiet night, as they rested together, he allowed himself to imagine the days ahead. Teaching the baby, guiding Diana, sharing quiet moments just for them. And he realized: the panther, the beast, the protector… could also be gentle. Loving. Soft.
For the first time, he understood that strength wasn't only in power, in dominance, in control. Strength was in care. In patience. In quiet moments when the world could slip away, leaving only those he loved in his arms.