The iron-wood door of the master bedroom opened with a soft, deliberate click, the heavy latch manipulated by small, surprisingly dexterous fingers.
A full month had bled past since that night. Thirty days of heavy snowfall, quiet Manor mornings, and an intense, relentless, and entirely desperate physical devotion between Roxy and the Fox King.
They had spent the month tangled in the furs, honoring the ultimate surrender Ren had made in the dark.
Actively trying for a baby.
The pale light of the morning sun filtered through the newly repaired arched windows, casting a warm, golden glow across the massive bed.
Roxy lay perfectly still beneath the heavy pelts, her breathing slow and even. She was completely enveloped in the warmth of her sleeping mate. Ren lay securely behind her, his broad chest pressed flush against her back, his large arms wrapped possessively around her waist.
