“This may come as a shock to you, but I don’t want that,” she bit out. “I’m not a fucking broodmare!”
Her outburst was met with silence.
Fuck. She’d managed to keep her temper in check with Dr. Hershey, gauging what reaction he wanted from her. But not this time. Perhaps it was the stress of it all, the fear of being back in their clutches after a month of running.
She braved a look at him. He was staring at her, his gaze as distant as before, though a small frown around his full lips made the hairs on her nape stand on end. Something about him really set her on edge—perhaps the hovering threat of his power looming just underneath the human facade, or the way he seemed to be hyperaware of every little movement she made, his dark eyes following her fidgeting like a hawk.
“You have seen the alternative.” His voice was soft despite his unsettling gaze. “The world is not safe for you, little one. If you accept a mate, you will be protected from those who wish to do you harm. Cherished.”
“You mean trapped,” she muttered, finally finding the strength to break eye-contact. “I will essentially be some monster's sex slave to do with as he pleases, and if I object… Well, we both know what happens when someone touches my ring. Don't pretend like this is all for my own good.”
“So you would rather spend your life on the run, risking death and rape every single day, than build a family with a man who would worship the ground you walk on? Have sons who would love you?”
“At least it would be my choice.” Selma prodded irritably at the food with her fork. She didn't understand his motivations as she had Marathin’s, so the only option she saw was to just be straightforward with him and hope he could sense her honesty. Maybe then he would be less vigilant when the right moment to escape revealed itself.
“Your kind says that you treat Breeders oh-so well,” she continued, “but what you truly want is a slave. What if I’d had a human husband? Human children? Would that have mattered when you ripped me away from my life to serve whoever has enough money to buy me? I know it certainly wouldn't have mattered to Marathin.”
Once again she was met with silence. A long silence. She’d begun to fear her honesty had snapped his temper when he finally spoke.
“There might be a third option.”
Her eyes hesitantly shifted back up to his. He had stopped staring at her and was now frowning at the enormous amounts of food on the kitchen counter.
“You mean… I could stay with you?” she prodded, cautious to keep her tone neutral. If he thought his magic would kill her if he were to be intimate with her, it was a bit of an odd suggestion, but perhaps her scent had affected him enough that he wasn’t thinking rationally. Marathin had apparently been lost enough in it to go against their rules in order to claim ownership over her.
But instead of being pleased with her suggestion, Kain’s face contorted in a grimace of disgust and anger. “Never!”
17
Kain
The Breeder jumped at his sharp retort, eyes widening in fear.
He was used to people scurrying away in response to his foul moods, but seeing the woman his instincts clamored to soothe and protect recoil made something in his gut clench.
With a deep breath he forced the despair-filled anger down, locking it deep in the part of his heart where it belonged, rotting away in the darkness. With effort, he carefully smoothed out his facial expression.
“I'm sorry, I… didn't mean to frighten you.” Of its own accord, his hand moved to her shoulder in an attempt at offering comfort. She instantly went rigid, and he caught himself missing the pliable softness her body had responded with the previous night.
He pulled his arm back, letting it fall awkwardly to his side. “I do not desire to take a mate. Ever. And even if I did, my magic would kill you when we coupled.”
Selma’s wrinkled her forehead in confusion. “Then how…? Can you remove my mark? The ring?”
Kain didn’t miss the desperate eagerness flashing across her face. “No. Your mark is permanent, and if I were to remove your ring, you would die. But there are… rumors.”
He grimaced, looking the woman over again. What he was about to suggest—if anyone ever found out, he’d be executed as a traitor. But if he didn’t…
Kain clenched his fist to alleviate the flash of rage conjured by the thought of her beautiful brown eyes dulled like his mother's had been. Broken.
“There are rumors of a place where Breeders can seek sanctuary. Somewhere my kind can’t follow.”
Selma stared at him, suspicion blatant in her pretty eyes. He couldn't blame her, really—she had very little reason to trust his kind.
“And why would you take me there?” She straightened her back in an effort to look confident and strong, but confusion and fear swirled in her otherwise so delicious scent.
He knew she was clinging to her composure by her fingernails, her scent betraying her stoic facade. She was a brave little thing, trying to hide how terrified she truly was, and the heated image of claiming her as his flashed before his mind’s eye. She’d make a good mate—courageous and strong despite her small stature.
But even if he’d wanted a mate, even if his innate magic weren’t a guaranteed death sentence, how long would it be before he’d snuff the light within her, leaving what’d once been a spirited woman a hollow shell?
