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“Yes.”
“Because the dead woman rooted beneath this farm spent the last ten minutes talking about fertility, carrying, and growing, and now my stomach is doing fucking somersaults. So forgive me if I’m having a little trouble believing that.”
Ezra suddenly drops to his knees in front of me.
My breath catches.
His hands lift toward my stomach, but he stops before touching me.
Even now.
With the Harvest towering over us, the farm tearing itself apart, and something moving inside my fucking body, he still stops.
His eyes lift to mine. “Can I?”
That nearly fucking breaks me.
I nod.
His palms settle gently against my stomach.
Warm.
Steady.
For a few seconds, nothing happens.
Maybe it stopped.
Maybe I imagined…
Something rolls beneath his right hand.
Ezra recoils.
Not surprise.
Not confusion.
Horror.
Real, unmistakable fucking horror.
“Fuck.”
A hysterical laugh almost escapes me. “That’s not helpful.”
He rises immediately.
“We stop it.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Fantastic.”
“But we will.”
