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“Lex.”

I know that tone, so I let it go, knowing she’s ready to wash off and get into bed. I ease her panties down her legs before leading her into the shower, and it’s difficult to step away once she has. It’s getting hard not to let the excitement in—the knowledge that in a couple short weeks, we’ll be holding our son in our arms.

Once she steps under the spray, she peers back out, owlishly asking, “Aren’t you coming?”

Pausing, I ask, “You want me to?”

I don’t know how women work in situations like these. My brothers and I always processed our kills in different ways. Wick’s always preferred getting lost in pleasure, slamming his hand over that dopamine button again and again. Pace has always turned to weed and his attachment to Effie. I’ve always just wanted—needed—to sleep it off in peace.

“Please?” Verity, it seems, wants to be close. That, I can give her.

I strip quickly, yanking at the buttons of my shirt and not caring if it rips. I kick off my shoes and shuck my pants, then step into the steamy shower. She watches me, eyes dropping down to my thick erection. I’ve been hard since I first touched her, and I’m even harder now that we’re standing close together, nothing between us but water and steam.

The water rushes down her body but does little to remove the stain of red. There are a million of Wicker’s various bottles on the shelf, and I pick one at random, liking the idea of her being washed in our scents.

Once my hands are lathered up, I start at her neck, eventually running my hands over her shoulders and chest. I use my thumbs to scrub away the droplets of Rufus’ blood that are spattered there. With a deep sigh, she leans against the wall, letting the water rush straight against her chest.

“Does that feel good?” I know the heat can relieve pressure.

“Yes,” she manages, and I continue, massaging her collarbones and dipping my hands down the deep crevice between her breasts. Her chest rises and falls, and despite the warm water rushing down her body, her nipples tighten and peak, making my cock knock into the underside of her belly. I cup her tits and push them together, eliciting her airy groan. “They just feel so full all the time.”

“I knew once you started, it would only get worse.” Letting Wick and Pace nurse from her was probably the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed. There was something so primal about following the path, the knowledge that they put their seed into her, let her nurture it into life, and then nourished themselves with it.

If my first kill taught me that bodies are machines, then watching Verity’s change, evolve,create, has taught me the opposite.

“Do you want a taste?”

Her question draws my eyes upward, and it’s obvious I’ve been caught staring—fantasizing. My tongue flattens against my teeth, the urge so bad that I nearly push her against the wall, latch on, and give her a forceful suck. But I drop my hands and squeeze more gel between them, focusing on cleaning the last traces of blood off of her stomach.

I grab the nozzle of the shower head and lift it off the dock, bringing it down to spray off all of the soap. Her hand catches mine, wet lashes fluttering. “I made it weird. I’m sorry, it’s just…is it always like this? I know it was for Wicker, but..” Her eyes dart down, “Well, Wickalwaysis…”

I touch her chin and lift her face up. “What are you talking about?”

“Horny.” Her green eyes are so wide, far too innocent considering what she’s done tonight. “Is it normal to be horny after doing what I did to Rufus?”

I take her in again, this time looking for more than injuries and strain. The blown-out eyes, the shallow breathing, the pebbled nipples. I nudge her down on the seat in the corner of the shower and stand over her, considering.

“Wicker once explained it like… causing death makes him want to experience life.” Tilting my head, I add, “Which, medically, makes a sort of sense. You’re full of endorphins. Adrenaline is pumping through your veins. Your system is on alert, and,” I touch her stomach, “you just went into some primal protective mother mode. It’s normal.”

“Good.” She licks her bottom lip, cheeks rosy and glistening. “Then what I’m going to do now totally makes sense.”

She reaches for me, gripping me tight around my shaft. Her touch is forceful, but somehow still soft, her hand stroking me upward, pushing the blood toward the tip. Her tongue darts out to taste me, and then her lips circle around the head.

Moaning, she sucks.

“Fuck, Verity,” I say, dropping the spray nozzle and bracing my hand against the glass door. She grips the base of my shaft and takes me in deeper, jacking me off with every pull. Shuddering, I stroke my fingers through her hair, overcome by the heat of her mouth. “Jesus Christ, baby, slow down or I’m gonna pop off.”

I don’t think she’s going to, but right when my balls seize up, she releases me. Exhaling, I struggle to catch my breath, but it’s not to slow down or stop. I know my role in this fledgling family we’re creating.

If there’s something her body needs, I’m going to provide it.

She pulls me toward her, hand still on the base of my shaft, and guides my cock between her tits. “If you won’t suck them,”she whispers, gazing up at me with lust-drunk eyes, “then fuck them, Lagan.”

It’s impossible to say no.

Every fantasy. Every thought I’ve had since I saw Verity’s tits for the first time. Every medical exam and night sleeping next to her comes down to this moment. I can’t feel anything but the warmth of her tits engulfing me.

So fucking good.