Page 6 of Into the Dawn (The Devil’s Claw #3)

6

VANESSA

W ell, that's not what he was expecting.

Ben blinks once, the only sign that his brain hasn't completely stalled.

While he gathers his thoughts, I pour some milk into his tea and press it into his hands, which close around it automatically. My beast sighs softly at the brief contact, savouring the spark of electricity that still jumps between us whenever we touch.

"A baby?" he repeats quietly, voice monotone, and expression completely blank.

He looks pale as he stares into the mug, unseeing, like he expects to see a baby in the swirling tan liquid. His beast's distress ripples through the mate bond we both pretend doesn't exist anymore.

Ben thought I was going to say a bigger house, a better job, or even just to get the hell away from here. I doubt a child was on his radar, though maybe it should have been. That's all I think about lately.

"I don't get it," he says, and I shake my head. I knew he wouldn't. His jaw clenches as his brain comes back online. "Why can't you have a baby if you want to?"

It looks like speaking those words nonchalantly nearly kills him. I get it. We're mates. Even with the bond rejected, our animals know we belong together. Biology is screaming at both of us that there should be no other option but each other.

Gesturing to my second-hand furniture and meagre belongings, I decide to take pity on him and spell it out.

"I met my mate, Ben. And even though we're... not together, my beast knows who she belongs with. You've been gone for years. Without you around..." I trail off, not wanting to spell out how thoroughly his absence has affected me. “Everything stopped.”

Ben's fingertips find the chair beside him, then steadies himself by leaning on it first before changing his mind and yanking it out and then dropping into it heavily.

I don't blame him for wanting to sit down for this one.

"I've been saving up every penny I have to pay for treatment so I can do it on my own."

Stunned, Ben lifts his gaze to mine, and I can see the conflicting reactions warring inside him. His beast rebels against the idea; the possessive gleam in his eyes makes that clear enough. But Ben's expression hardens, shuttering closed before I can read too much into it.

"No.” He growls, his beast's pain bleeding into his voice. "Absolutely not. We're here to save John, not play happy families."

The immediate rejection stings, even though I knew it was coming. My beast whimpers, but I force down the hurt. He's jumping to conclusions, assuming I'm trying to trap him into something. As if I'd use a child that way.

"I've told my dad about it, hoping he'd help, but he refused. Said if I was barren, it was the fates’ way of telling me I wasn't meant to have children. That it's better to let nature decide." I try to keep my voice strong, but it's no good.

Ben hears the crack, and I see the sympathy in his eyes. Nobody deserves to hear those words. Whatever the reason someone can't have kids, to say it's their fault or that they don’t deserve them, is unforgivable.

"You never told him about us," Ben says, knowing that I never would. His anger at my father bleeds through despite his attempts to remain distant.

"No, not outright. He'd have killed you. He might have suspected, but when you left, and I didn’t… he let it go. And everyone thinking I'm not able to have kids is the only thing that's protected me from being paired with someone else."

Ben's jaw works, and his fingers curl so tightly around his tea that I'm worried the mug will crack in his hands. His protective instincts war with his determination to stay detached.

"Does it... hurt you?" he asks carefully, guilt threading through his voice despite his earlier rejection.

His mind is struggling to process this information. I can see the conflict in his eyes, but he doesn't need to feel bad. It was my choice not to go after him and follow through on our plans, so I have to live with the consequences.

"No. There's just... nothing." Dropping into the chair opposite him, I slide my hand across the painted table and touch the back of his hand gently.

Our animals surge toward each other at the contact, making it hard to maintain my composure.

"It's the only thing I want. If I tell him I'll give you up for the money to get treatment, he'll buy it. He knows I'm desperate."

Ben looks like he's either going to tear my tiny home apart or cry, both of which would be equally devastating.

"It's okay, it's not your problem. But you asked me what he'd buy, and this is it."

I'm about to sit back when Ben's fingers snatch mine, and he squeezes them tightly, his dark expression unreadable. Our animals howl in unison at the contact, making it nearly impossible to think straight.

"We'll fix this. When I get out, I'll stay close enough that you can… that your beast will…" A deep growl traps the words in his throat, and he looks away, the muscles and veins in his neck bulging as he fights back the animal inside him.

He can't even get the words out. His beast would never allow another male near me, but he's still so determined to keep his distance, that he can't even offer the obvious solution.

The rejection cuts deep, but I refuse to let him see how much.

"Thanks," I say, brushing past it. "I don’t even know if just being close would work. But let's save all that for when we get you and John home."

"If I break out and take John with me, your dad definitely won't be giving you any money," Ben says as I stand and try unsuccessfully to pull my hand away. “Can you deal with that?”

With a sad smile, I use my other fingers to pry mine from his, ignoring how both our animals protest the loss of contact, and then set my palm down gently on the table.

"We both know he's not going to help me anyway."

The words hang between us, heavy with everything left unsaid. There's an obvious solution to this whole mess, but Ben's made it clear that's not an option. He might not be able to stand the thought of another male being involved, but he's equally determined not to step into that role himself.

I try not to let it hurt. He has his reasons for keeping his distance, and I'm the one who put them there. But watching him struggle between his beast's possessive instincts and his human determination to stay away makes my chest ache.

Maybe with some time, he'll understand I'm not trying to trap him or force his hand. I just want the family I thought we'd have together, even if I have to do it alone.