Page 15 of Taken By the Tanker


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“You couldn’t kill them anymore than you could kill our babe growing in your womb.”

Shock seizes every muscle in my body. He turns me to face him, grips my hair, and plasters my front to his. His thick length rubs against my hip, trapped along his thigh by his pants.

“Scent your pheromones.”

I pull air into my lungs, needing to follow his command despite my brain refusing to comprehend his point.

A ripe bouquet of life wafts from my skin, the residual scents of our rutting on the blanket doing little to hide my budding pheromones. My mind blanks and I tremble. I part my lips as though words may magically appear, but nothing comes out.

His hand tightens in my hair, sending pinpricks of pain into my scalp as he pulls my head back. He bends down and runs his nose along my exposed neck, purring and nipping the edge of my mating mark before murmuring against my collarbone.

“You’re carrying our offspring.”

Reality tumbles onto my head like a pile of scrap metal. “I’m pregnant?”

“Yes.”

A sob wrenches free of my throat.

“But how—?”

“Because you’re mine, body and soul, and I want a brood to rival the olden days.”

“But it was my first heat.”

“Yes, it was, and I can’t wait for your next one so I can plant another babe in your belly.”

“But—”

“I know, it’ll be a while. I don’t mind, especially since you’ll be desperate for my cock for the next nine months. You won’t be able to get enough—you’ll beg for my seed.”

My jaw drops, but I can’t wrap my head around the miraculous news.

His tawny irises shrink, the pitch-black of his pupils growing with his lust as my body heats despite my frazzled mind. Pride and contentment flood my chest, our bond shining almost as bright as the greenhouse lights as my alpha shares his joy with me.

The intensity of his stare breaks my stupor. I won’t wither away and die a slow death under an alpha. I’m not barren. I’m not the curse of humanity.

No, this savage, ruthless alpha will ensure I thrive. He’ll do whatever it takes to make me the mother of the next generation. He trusts me to nurture his garden, to grow food, to secure our future.

Who knew being taken by a tanker could be so wonderful?

I open my heart to him, granting him deeper access than any bond could offer, needing him to see just how much I love him.

His lips tilt in a dark, decadent promise. Heat courses through my veins.

I give myself to him, hopeful for the first time in my life.

He already owns me. I’m his.

And he’s mine. My alpha. My mate.

My Tanker.

Chapter 8

Hoss

“Drop the blanket.”

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