She laughed—a harsh, ugly sound that made Robbie stir against Becsul’s chest. She forced herself to take a breath and lower her voice.
“Do you know what I do? What my job was, before your people’s friends grabbed me off the street?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “I was a doctor. I ran a fertility clinic. I spent twelve years helping people have children. People who thought they’d never be parents, who’d given up hope. I gave them hope. I gave themfamilies.”
“Melissa—”
“I chose to have a child alone because I wanted to be a mother more than anything in the world. I did it myself, on my own terms, because I believed that every person has the right to decide what happens to their own body.” Her voice was shaking now. “And now you’re telling me that I’m going to be used as a broodmare for a dying alien race, and you don’t even know how they plan to do it?”
“I will find out.” His voice was low, intense. “And I swear to you, whatever the method, I will protect you.”
“Protect me? You can’t even let me leave this facility.”
“I can make sure no one hurts you. No one touches you without your consent.” His tail had escaped his control again, curling towards her. “I don’t know why, but since I walked into this room, I have felt…” He stopped, clearly struggling for words. “You matter. You and your son. You matter to me.”
She stared at him. The alien warrior, towering and powerful, cradling her baby against his broad chest. His tail reaching for her like it had a will of its own. His black eyes filled with something that looked almost like devotion.
This is insane.
“That’s a nice sentiment.” She made her voice hard. Cold. “But sentiment doesn’t open doors. Sentiment doesn’t get me home.”
Pain flickered across his face, quickly hidden.
“I know.”
“Then why bother promising?”
“Because it’s all I have to offer.” He looked down at Robbie again, and she saw his throat work as he swallowed. “Because when I hold your son, I feel like I’m holding something that matters. Something worth fighting for. And when I look at you…”
He stopped and took a breath. When he spoke again, his voice was carefully controlled.
“I should return him to you. You need rest.”
He crossed the room in three long strides and bent to transfer Robbie into her arms. The brush of his subtly textured skin against hers sent a spark of electricity down her spine that she quickly suppressed. The baby made a small sound of protest at the transfer but settled quickly against her chest, his familiar weight both comfort and anchor.
But as Becsul straightened, his tail finally achieved its goal—sliding around her waist in a gentle hug before he jerked it back with a sound of frustration.
“I apologize. Again.”
“Does it always do that?”
“No.” The admission seemed to cost him. “Only with you.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t know what to do with the information, or with the strange flutter it caused in her chest.
Stop it. He’s your captor. This is probably some kind of trick.
But his eyes, when they met hers, held nothing but sincerity.
“I’ll return tomorrow with the things you requested. Clothes. Something to read. And I’ll arrange for you to go outside.”
“I won’t say thank you.”
“I don’t expect you to.”
He turned towards the door, and she watched the way he moved, powerful and controlled, every motion deliberate. At the threshold, he paused.
“Melissa.”
“What?”
