After the dragons left, the atmosphere inside the cottage had become stiffling, but not in a bad way.
Long Zhan had transformed. The stoic, distant Dragon Lord who had initially treated the Orycto tribe with cold indifference had vanished, replaced by a man whose every sense was tuned to the frequency of Lin Wan's existence.
He didn't just guard her; he hovered over her.
When she moved to pour water, his hand was already on the pitcher. When the morning breeze blew a bit too sharply through the window, he was there to shut it.
He moved around the small space like a great predator claiming a den, his eyes following her with a possessive heat that made Lin's skin prickle.
"Long Zhan, I am fine," Lin Wan insisted for the third time that morning as she tried to reach for her wooden hairbrush, she got from Weiwei. "I am just pregnant, not made of glass."
