"You're going to the infirmary," Damon said as he glowered at me, in a tone that brooked no argument. But of course, I wouldn't be myself if I didn't question his orders.
"Why? I'm not injured," I said, and I was pleasantly surprised to find it was true. Damon had not hurt me while we were fucking like rabbits― my muscles were merely sore, but it was a wholly pleasurable ache. He had not drawn blood, or engaged in other kinkier activities that would require me to seek urgent medical attention.
"If you want to give birth to my fucking kids so badly, then stay," Damon smirked, but there was no humor in his eyes. "I'm sure Blaise would be delighted to know his brother impregnated his fated mate."
"Fuck you," I hissed in reply, but Damon had a point. I immediately opened the door and stormed over to the infirmary, Damon hot on my heels.