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“Now,” Des says, “I believe it’s my turn.”

Ah, yes, my turn to answer a question.

“What were you talking about with the Green Man earlier this evening?” he asks.

My face pales.

He noticed that conversation?

The man is way too perceptive.

My throat works. Ireallydon’t want to have this talk.

The longer I hesitate, the stronger the pull I feel from his magic. It wraps around my windpipe, forcing me to speak.

“We’ve been having unprotected sex,” I finally say.

The magic doesn’t release me.

Ugh.

Des waits for me to finish.

I take a deep breath. “I could be pregnant,” I whisper.

His eyes widen at my confession.

I rub my neck and watch him warily as his magic dissipates.

He studies me, and for the life of me, I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Finally, he says, “What is this about, cherub?”

Huh?

“It’s about that, Des. Having a baby.” Just saying it makes it that much more real. I need a pregnancy test, stat.

“I thought you wanted to have my child?” Des says in his dangerous voice.

I do want to have his child—this isn’t a matter of if; it’s a matter of when.

“This whole thing is just moving too fast,” I say.

“Moving too fast?”

Those are clearly the wrong three words to say. I see it in his eyes. That foreign flicker of something alien, something fae.

“Haven’t you had enough of moving slow?” His hand presses gently against my stomach, cradling it.

I stare at him, well aware that I’m facing down fae Des, dark Des, Des who craves things I can’t understand.

What was it Phaedron had mentioned?

No fairy would let his mate get away just because she put up a little protest.

Hasn’t that been the theme of the evening? The possibility that I want things that will take me away from Des rather than bring me closer to him?

“Perhaps I want you to have my child,” he says, moving his hand from my stomach to my bracelet. “Perhaps I want us to begin right now…”

I swallow, my mouth dry.