Divino Michael

Freyr stands at the edge of the meadow, sunlight glinting off his golden hair. His eyes narrow as they fall on Reese, their belly swollen and round. The sight twists his stomach, a mix of disgust and confusion churning within him. He knows that shape too well, the unmistakable mark of new life. But this? There’s no way that thing is his.

He strides over, every step deliberate, the lush grass bowing under his weight. A year. He’s only been helping them out for a year, guiding them, providing for them. They had been grateful, eager even, basking in his favor. And now, this betrayal. Freyr’s jaw clenches as he stops a few paces away, his eyes fixed on their belly.

Freyr’s nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, searching for a trace of his own scent. It’s faint, but unmistakable, mingled with the heady aroma of fertility. Pheromones don’t lie. His scent is there, intertwined with theirs. No matter how much he wishes it weren’t true, the evidence is irrefutable.

The sheer audacity of it infuriates him. How dare they claim this child as his? He’s never mated them, never even entertained the idea. Freyr’s fists clench at his sides, the urge to lash out nearly overwhelming. But he controls himself. Barely.

He circles Reese slowly, his mind racing. Isolation. Control. He’s always been good at that. He’ll need to keep them close, ensure that no one else interferes. The child, though unwanted, must be monitored, molded if necessary. Freyr’s lip curls at the thought. He never wanted this, but now he’s left with no choice.

Freyr reaches out, a hand hovering just above Reese's belly. He doesn’t touch, not yet. The proximity is enough. He leans in, his voice low and menacing. “Are you certain it is... mine?"