“We can go north, Maeve. North across the tundra. No one knows what’s on the other side. I could… I could take you home. Where you’d be—where you’d be safe.”
The words I had said to her as I pressed her against the wall in the alleyway the night before still rang in my ears. I should have just done it, whether with her willingness or by force. I should have picked her up and ran, stealing through the night until we reached the port and tossed her on a ship. I would have. I really would have done it, if we hadn’t been interrupted and my strength hadn’t been needed elsewhere. I had already been reeling from too much drink, my already weak filter totally useless as I begged between kisses to run.
I couldn’t let that happen again. I wouldn’t let myself take advantage of her. I would be her breeder in name only. And if I had to touch her, well, no child would come forth from our union. I would die before I let Romero get his hands on her baby.
Our baby.