Damar remained in his serpent form, but he didn't hiss. He simply turned his head with an agonizing slowness, that made it seem like his time unconscious had gravelly weighed him down, his gaze lingering on my face for a long, quiet moment. There was a deep recognition in his eyes, but it was distant, as if he were looking at me from the other side of a frozen lake.
Then, his gaze drifted downward. He stared at my belly—at the way it had rounded and stretched since he had last seen me.
With a gentle, fluid grace, he leaned forward. His snout was cool and dry as he nudged the fabric of my tunic right where the cubs were most active. He stayed there, his weight a comforting pressure against my skin, as if he were listening. A sharp, distinct thump came from inside me—one of the babies kicking right against his nose.
Damar's eyes narrowed slightly, a faint, golden light flickering in the emerald depths. He felt them.
