Richard. We're just comforting Anita, and ourselves. You're a shapeshifter; you understand the need for touch when you're worried or scared."

Richard shook his head. "It's always about sex with him." He pointed at Jean-Claude. "Don't let him fool you, Micah. He's enjoying touching you." It seemed he'd decided that of the other men, Micah was the one most likely to understand his unease.

Micah slid his arm around Jean-Claude's waist, pulled him in a little tighter against him and me. It forced Jean-Claude to put more of his arm across Micah's shoulders, put the line of their bodies against each other from hip to chest. Micah kept his gaze on Richard while he got cozy.

"If he were another shapeshifter, they'd enjoy the touch, too. We've all had a shock. We're all feeling insecure, Richard. We're all wondering how much our lives must change to accommodate a baby. We're scared, aren't you?

"You're Nimir-Raj, are you saying you can't smell when someone's afraid?" There was derision in his voice.

"I thought you'd get angry if I told you that you smelled of fear."

Richard's hands made fists. His face darkening with anger, he fought for control of himself, visibly. It was almost painful to watch him fight his anger, and since his power never once warmed the room, he was controlling so much more than just his anger.

He started walking toward us, jerkily, as if his feet didn't want to move. He moved like some reluctant robot, until he came to the edge of the knot of men. Then he stopped. He just stood there beside us, as if he didn't know what to do next.

Jean-Claude moved, making a hole between himself and Nathaniel. It was an invitation to join the circle. Richard just stood there, eyes on the ground, hands limp at his sides. It was Nathaniel who moved even farther out, letting go of me, and only keeping Asher's hand. Nathaniel moved so that the circle became almost half a circle. Jean-Claude took his cue from Nathaniel, and moved farther away from me, his arm still around Micah. I stood alone with the men like a backdrop.

Richard stood there, unmoved, as if he hadn't noticed. I took a step forward, and touched fingertips to the fringe of his hair where it hid the edge of his face. He flinched, and raised his eyes to me. The pain in those brown eyes made my throat tight. Maybe I was just having an emotional night. Or maybe, if you love someone, you can never see that much pain in his eyes without wanting to fix it.

I had to go up on tiptoe to touch his face, one hand resting against his arm to steady myself. I rested my hand against the side of his face, just at the swell