9. Bred

It is Atlas who eventually catches me out.

"There's something odd about this human. She isn't cycling. She should be coming into heat every thirty or so days, and she should be bleeding two weeks after that. Have any of you observed her heat cycle?"

My eyes fly open as I hear Atlas broach a topic of discussion I'd really rather he didn't.

Their favorite topic of discussion is always me. Having me. Mating me. Using me. It hasn't occurred to them that I'm not having periods, and I had deeply hoped that the topic would not come up.

"There is one good reason that might not be happening." Emrys speaks, and I hope he says the first stupid thing in his life, but of course he doesn't.

"What's that?" Kronos asks the question with his usual open curiosity.

Emrys looks at me, his blood red eyes flashing. "She is already pregnant."

My blood runs cold as the secret I have tried so very hard to keep is brought to brutal light with those four little words. I thought I had longer. I thought I had a chance to gain some strength and plot an actual escape. I thought…

"Human."

Emrys says my species in that summoning tone, the one I can't ignore. He and I are blood bound, connected like maker and fledgling. When he commands me, I must obey. I rise to my feet and pad toward him, wearing the bedding like a cloak that drags behind me.

Three pairs of alien eyes are upon me, but it is Emrys' gaze that consumes me.

"Are you pregnant?"

I should say no. I want to say no. But I cannot lie to him. I am surprised I have managed to keep this secret a long as I have.

"Yes," I admit in a soft voice.

This is the secret I have tried so hard to hide. This is the reason I wanted so very badly to escape my past, flee the Sheriff. This is why I could not submit to the scythkin's mental maze or allow myself even to become the barbarian's possession.

"Who is the father?"

"I got pregnant to a numahn," I admit.

Emrys pauses for a moment. "Who?"

I don't want to tell him. This is my greatest shame, and my greatest fear coming to pass in a single moment. This will not please any of my alien owners. They will be appalled. I am appalled. It is something I try very hard not to think about.

Tears start to flow down my cheeks in a slow cascade of misery. Suddenly, the slavery I was in just minutes ago now seems so much more wholesome and safe than this. I am not what they wanted. I am not empty and breedable. I am already used.

Strong arms wrap around me. Atlas has picked me up and is cradling me in his lap. "It does not matter what happened," he says. "We will not be angry at you."

I wish I could believe that, but I feel anger radiating from Emrys already. He is not pleased at this development, and I know Kronos must be disappointed as well. My entire purpose as far as he is concerned is continuing his bloodline. He can't do that while I am pregnant. I can't even look at him. I bury my face in the neck of Atlas' incredibly realistic human suit and I breathe deep, trying to center myself.

"You're already angry at me."

"I'm angry you didn't tell me something this important. We could have had a chance to look after you better. Feed you better. I would not have…" Emrys clears his throat. "I would not have made you my sacrifice if I knew that you had a little baby inside you. I have infected you, which means I have infected the infant as well. It will not be as it was. It will not…"

"Was it hurt? Has it been…?" I can hardly form the questions. I am grateful for Atlas holding me, because if he was not I think I might faint. I knew that when Emrys had me on his sacrificial altar there was a chance I might not survive, but I was in a state of such surrender and utter despair, believing I had finally come to the end of a tragic road that there was no way out. All I hoped for was that my heart would keep beating long enough for the life inside me to live.

"I do not know," Emrys says. "I do not like that I do not know. It depends what species the baby is. It depends on who the father was."

"Numahn," I murmur softly.

It takes a moment for the significance of that statement to settle into the minds of those who heard it.

"Which numahn?" Emrys asks the question with a carefully controlled anger.

"Just… a guy."

"Do NOT lie to me!" He snaps sternly.

I burst into tears and bury my face in Atlas' arms. I don't want to answer any more questions. I don't want to be interrogated and tell him all my shameful secrets.

"That's enough." Kronos speaks for the first time. "We do not need to know who the father is, or how he came to be the father. We will look after the infant regardless, as our own. She is our mate, and her progeny is our progeny. Simple as that."

"Will you feel the same when the little abomination is born addicted to blood and craving death?" Emrys asks the question with barely controlled fury. "You do not understand. You wanted to have a baby. I did not. I performed the sacrifice assuming she was an empty vessel. Nothing was ever supposed to take root in her womb. Now I am to become a father to a creature…"

Atlas stands up, hands me to Kronos, and proceeds to beat the hell out of Emrys. Another human suit is sacrificed in his protective rage as he comes bursting out of all semblance of civilization, fists replete with dozens of sharp edges as he lays into Emrys with gallant conviction.

"You are not father to anything, blood drinker. You are a corruptor of innocence. You defiled our mate and now you have defiled her offspring inside her very womb. You are fortunate we allow you to continue to have anything to do with her."

The valker guards are looking incredibly perturbed, but there's not a single one of them prepared to defend their king against the brutality and fearsomeness of a scythkin. Atlas is the kind of force of nature that awes even those who are sworn to protect.

"Beg for mercy," Atlas demands. "Beg me to allow you to continue existing, let alone be in the presence of our pregnant mate."

"She's not pregnant with any offspring of ours!"

"You're complaining that this one is too much of yours. Kronos and I do not care that the infant is not going to be ours. We know what matters is keeping our mate safe. We know that we love her no matter what her past. Kronos cleaned up every mess she made from that diner to this bloodied planet, and I am staying because I know she might not survive you."

"Why let me live at all then?" Emrys asks the question while streaming rivulets of his own essence. "Why not kill me now and share her between yourselves?"

"Because she loves you. And because you are the only one who seems able to make her stop running. You have forged a connection she needs, and so I will tolerate you. But it will not be without pain if you cannot control your natural cruelty."

I bury my face in Kronos' golden mane, and I do my best to shield myself from the violence Atlas is enacting on Emrys. The valker king deserves it no doubt, but Atlas is right. I do love Emrys. I love him because he broke me. He took me to a place beyond despair and denial, a place you can only get to if you have experienced both of those things completely and entirely.

I suppose I don't mind that he is being beaten. It might help him reach the same place eventually. Valkers are tyrannical, arrogant, vicious creatures, and Emrys is the literal king of them all. What Altas is doing is probably the best thing for him.

Emrys starts to laugh, lying on the floor and making no attempt to shield himself from Atlas' onslaught. He'd let the scythkin kill him, I think. I don't think he cares. I think I've had an effect on Emrys that he could never have predicted. I might have broken him as much as he's broken me. I don't know how, but I recognize that reaction.

"Atlas, that's enough," Kronos says, setting me down on my feet. "We need him alive. Or we at least want him alive. I think."

Atlas backs off, a hulking, seething, sharp-edged beast flecked with blood all over his hard exterior. I will never get over seeing him like this. In his human suited form he seems powerful but mild-mannered. In this form, he seems devastatingly dangerous.

I am aroused just watching him. I need a protector, and he is a protector through and through.

Emrys rises from the floor without a whimper, much to his credit. He can take a beating just as well as he can give one.

"It would seem such questions are not going to be answered until such time as the little bastard is born," Emrys chokes out. He says the term little bastard with enough affection that Atlas hesitates before smacking him across the face, open palmed.

"Enough, scythkin," Emrys rasps. "I enjoy pain as much as the average valker, but your point is already made."