Never Again Yours (Isadora and Magnus)

Night had settled quietly over Brocade Heights. Outside the balcony, the

apartment complex was draped in darkness, with only a faint golden glow from a distant streetlamp tracing a thin line of light across the pavement. Every so often, the distant wail of a car horn sliced through the stillness before fading away beneath their window.

Victor pushed open the bedroom door. The woman lying on the bed was already fast asleep.

She was curled on her side, hugging the new body pillow she'd bought just last week. Her cotton nightdress, striped in soft blue and white, was anything but alluring, yet her legs-bare and restless-poked out from beneath the covers, gleaming pale and smooth in the silvery wash of moonlight.

Victor stepped closer and leaned down, his large hand cupping one of her feet, small and delicate, barely filling his palm.

Her ankle was slender, her toes tinged with a soft blush, occasionally curling in on themselves in a way that made him smile.

He gently tucked her foot back under the blanket and pulled the covers up to shield her from the night's chill.

Standing at her bedside, he watched her for a while, the room silent except for her steady breathing. Then, he bent and pressed a whisper of a kiss to her smooth forehead. He stooped to straighten her slippers beneath the bed, aligning them neatly side by side.

With that, he straightened and turned to leave.

Half-awake, Isadora blinked into the darkness, her voice husky with sleep. "Where... are you going?"noveldrama

"Did I wake you?" he asked softly.

She shook her head.

"I'm just going to the living room. Go back to sleep, sweetheart."

Isadora watched his tall silhouette in the dim light. She couldn't make out his features, but she could sense the gentle smile in his obsidian eyes.

A little self-conscious, she murmured, "Tonight... stay here."

Victor's brows arched in surprise. "Are you sure, Isadora?"

"It's fine if you don't want to," she mumbled, embarrassed. After all, she'd sent him away the night before and now, here she was, inviting him back.

He chuckled a low, brief sound that warmed the darkness.

He understood. Whatever tension that photo had stirred up between them, in her mind at least, it was over now.

A smile played at the corners of his mouth as he circled to the other side of the bed, lifted the covers, and slipped in beside her.

The bed wasn't large-barely five feet wide-forcing them close together.

As Victor settled in, Isadora felt a wave of warmth radiate through the space

between them, his familiar scent filling the air, unmistakable and strong.

Sleep was ebbing away, replaced by a sharp awareness. She could hear her own heartbeat, loud and insistent in the quiet room.

After a moment, Victor's broad, warm hand rested gently on her stomach.

Heat from his palm seeped through the thin fabric, spreading from her belly to her chest, making her skin flush.

His voice was low and gentle, edged with a rough tenderness. "I read that, after three months, you might start to feel the baby moving. Has there been any kicking around?"

Isadora remembered the only time she'd really felt a strong flutter-it was back at that warehouse. Aside from that, there had hardly been any dramatic movement. "Not much," she replied.

Victor gave a soft, amused grunt. "You've had it pretty easy in the first trimester. Just a little picky with your food, no serious nausea or anything. Seems like our baby's being cooperative."

At the very beginning of her pregnancy, she and Victor had nearly fallen apart. She never expected he'd know, let alone remember, what her early symptoms had been like.

"How did you know I was picky with food at the start?" she asked.

Victor slipped his arm around her from behind, pulling her gently against his chest. His voice was little rough, almost sheepish. "Remember that time we ate

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together at the office? You got sick

at lunch."

Isadora recalled how, back then, he'd accused her-rather harshly-of doing it on purpose just to annoy him.