Chapter 18: Target, Part 18

James – Thirty-Seven weeks

The wee small hours. A full moon slants across the floor, tinting the room in weird monochromatic shades, painting everything in shades of light and dark.

Michael lies in his accustomed position on the far side of the bed, his back to me but his ribs moving with the smooth rise and fall of sleep.

Between us lies Charlotte, and I lie spooned around her, her spine pressed against my chest, and my arm curving around her so I can rest a hand over her distended belly.

Every so often, there's movement against my fingers from inside my sleeping love; a foot or an elbow, pushing at me and I smile to myself as my unborn daughter parties through the night.

Charlotte sighs and shifts, the rhythm of her breathing changing.

Is she asleep?

Keeping my voice low, "You alright?"

"I'm fine, Master." She sounds a little sleepy, but not just that. Something else lurks there.

I nuzzle into her hair to kiss the back of her neck. "You sure of that?"