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My gut is still insisting that we don’t have a choice—we have to at least try to conceive a child—and then I get the text from the fertility expert on my way to my office, alerting me that Willow refused the physical examination, and my indecision vanishes.
If Willow won’t work with me to make informed choices for the good of our people, then I will make them for her.
I have no choice.
I really don’t, no matter how much I wish I did.
Chapter Fifteen
Willow
After an unexpectedly easy escape from Maxim’s patchouli-scented fertility specialist—Hermione arrives at Diana’s front door just as the battle over whether or not I’ll be disrobing for a full exam is building steam—I spend the rest of the morning in the physics weeds with several very clever and passionate scientists.
We talk causality, sub-atomic particles, and light cones until Hermione excuses herself to track down pain reliever for her aching head.
And then the youngest science nerd, Caddie, gives me a tour of the lab.
“And we pretty much set our own project schedules, too,” she says, motioning to a white board in the breakroom. “You just have to make sure you plan your hours a few weeks out to avoid overcrowding.”
She glances over her shoulder, before leaning in and whispering, “Or sharing space with someone you can’t stand. Marty always brings the most repulsive lunches and stinks up the entire floor. If you start working here, he’s the one to avoid. Also, Camilla, if you don’t like punk rock. She plays it so loud you can hear it through her headphones.”
“I love punk,” I say, catching her excitement.
I haven’t had much time lately to miss being in the lab, but now, I do. I miss the comforting rhythm of testing, recording, and analyzing data. I miss using the puzzle solving part of my brain for something other than figuring out how to stay alive and remembering who I’m lying to about what.
Which reminds me…
I have to figure out what to say to keep my fated mate from freaking out about my refusal to let his fertility expert all up in my lady parts.
“I should go,” I tell Caddie, my smile fading. “I’m meeting Maxim for lunch. But thanks so much for the tour.”
She nods. “Oh, yeah, sure. My pleasure. I would ask you to say ‘hi’ to him, but Maxim intimidates the hell out of me. He’s a much scarier Alpha than his dad ever was.” She lifts a hand and hurries to add, “but I’m sure he’s perfectly nice and will be an awesome husband.”
My lips hook up on one side. “He has potential, but the jury’s still out on his awesome levels.”
Her eyes go wide, and she glances over her shoulder again before turning back to whisper, “You go, girl. I like you. Don’t take any shit from your man. Even if he is gigantic, gorgeous, and terrifying.”
I laugh. “I intend to try.” I ask her if she’d like to join my female pack member focus group, she agrees, and I head for the elevators to meet Hermione, rolling my latest problem over and over in my head.
What am I going to do if Maxim insists on trying to get me pregnant?
Will I be able to resist him?
Will he take ‘no’ for an answer, if I muster up the willpower to say it?
And how am I going to explain the fact that I’m still a virgin? Surely, he’ll notice. If my hymen is intact enough for Victor’s doctor to see it in a physical exam, then Maxim will notice it if he…
When he…
God, I’m going to have sex with Maxim. Maybe after we’re married, maybe sooner than that, but eventually we’re going to do the horizontal hula. The dirty deed. We’re going to take a trip to pound town, and I will finally know what it’s like to have sex.
It should be exciting—I haven’t enjoyed being a virgin for a very long time—but like everything in my life lately, this has become so…fraught.
I stop beside Hermione by the elevators, bringing my hands to my suddenly flushed cheeks.
“Everything all right?” she asks.
“Wonderful,” I lie. “Really amazingly great.”
