Page 117 of His Retribution

Tolan and Ellida continued to explain fae breeding practices as both extremely difficult, as well as easy. Despite constant ovulation, the possibility of conceiving is still a struggle. The fae's ability to be so incredibly in tune with their environment, their surroundings, the changes that take place around them dictate their body's willingness to conceive and carry young. If the world is at war, if the elements are too harsh, if there is some outside factor that would pose threat to the unborn child, a female fae simply will not conceive. It is a rather remarkable defense mechanism, a built in form of protection to ensure a fae's young has every opportunity to thrive, but in times such as these it is a double-edged sword.

Ellida explains.

“We are so very grateful that The Maker has given us the ability to create life when the time is right, when there is almost one hundred percent certainty our young would carry to term, grow and thrive, develop under the right circumstances but it is also hard. Tolan and I have wanted nothing more than to have a child, to share our love, our life, with a young created from a bond such as ours; but due to our position, the current state of the world around us, the seemingly endless war and turmoil, we have been unsuccessful. I pray that one day, one day before Constantine’s son takes up his throne, that there is peace, a period of serenity that will allow us the ability to conceive, to become parents to a young that we already love so much.”

I watch as a tear falls onto the edge of the page I'm reading, the salty droplet turning the aged paper a shade darker. I had no idea I was even crying until now, to be honest, and as the words sink in, I completely understand why.

“A young would be the greatest gift we could ever receive, the most precious and beautiful expression of our bond, one created from the love we share so deeply and could pass on to that child with each breath we take.”

There is no doubt in my mind that I am fae, no doubt that Tolan and Ellida are my parents, parents who loved me without ever knowing me, who wanted to protect me and give me a life they were afraid they wouldn't be able to provide. I'm not entirely sure how I know that but between the little signs Bozidar documented and the way Ellida spoke to him about their desire to be parents, I just know that they were mine.

And yet I find myself asking Havok, "What do I smell like?"

"You smell divine, my love," he says without looking at me, but pauses. "And you currently smell as though you're crying." Havok turns just as he yanks another panel off the wall and as those ice blue eyes meet mine, they fill with concern.

I quickly wipe my tears, then gesture dismissively. "I'm fine, lovey. I just wanted to know what you can pick up in my scent."

"Cora..."

"I'm fine, really."

"You are not fine; you are sad..." Then his brow furrows. "But also happy."

I nod, lifting the book. "Good stuff, but kind of hard to read. Stirs a lot of emotions." I give him a genuine smile. "Now can you please answer my question?"

"Why do you wish to know what you smell like?"

"Just curious."

"That"—he points at me—"smells like bullshit." Then Havok sighs and leans against the dresser. "Will you tell me what your reasoning is after I pick apart my favorite scent in all the land?"

I giggle like an idiot because how can I not? And then nod emphatically.

"You, my angel, smell of honey, the sweetest honey, with just a tiny hint of vanilla, and a splash of ginger. You smell of wild tiger lilies in full bloom. You carry the scent of the ripest raspberries dipped in white chocolate and rolled in pure sugar." Havok grins so seductively my ovaries instantly produce thousands more eggs. "And you smell of sex, smell of my seed, my scent, my fucking mark. You, my beautiful blue light, smell likemine."

My jaw goes slack as my body temp hits a million degrees, my already perky nipples pucker to the point of pain, my super wet pussy clenches and practically tries to fuck his words spoken in that wicked accent.

Wow.

Just fucking wow.

Havok's smile grows. "Now, before I do in fact take you again, most likely up against the window so I have a valid reason not to shatter it in frustration, please explain to me why you wanted to know what your scent consists of?”

With confirmation winning out over blind lust momentarily, I smile so fucking big. "Did you know you are the only living thing on the face of the planet that can smell the ginger and raspberry?"

A dark brow lifts as he folds his arms against his massive chest. "Is that so?"

"Mmhmm. Do you want to know why?"

Havok gestures for me to continue.

"Because I'm your mate." My smile is barely contained on my face. Hell, my whole body is probably smiling. "I am your mate, yours alone, and I am fae. You are the only one who can smell raspberry in my scent because it's part of our bond, part of me that was made only for you, and do you want to know what it means?"

"Do tell, my lovely mate."

"It means I'm super fucking fertile and can only have your babies, not just because I want to but also because I was made for you. It means I was custom made for you to love, to make love with, to feed from and make dozens of beautiful fair skinned babies with."

"Oh really?" Havok smirks. "Was there doubt over any of that before you read it in your book?"