The flickering truth of a baby would soon take my attention from him, from any growing affection… from everything else. Then there was the worry of what would follow. I did not know if I would be capable of fully loving a man who could support a world that might take my child from me. Who would expect me to send her to a horrible place where her little fingers would be broken, so she might die for humans who did not love her as I did.

  But I could change the world for the better, even if it was only just a little. And that ultimately would benefit her too. So I told him what he must have already suspected. “I intend to be pregnant by the time Maeve graduates. I am choosing to have a daughter in hopes it might make the world a better place for us all. But I’m afraid.”

  The softness around Cyderial’s eyes vanished, the smirk evaporating. Expressionless and sinister, he asked, “Should you not wait to see how Thayer and Maeve fare?”

  “No. Because I realize you may support me, but you do not support them. Not in that way. How could you? Thayer cannot be the man you are. Maeve is not the woman I am. Their journey will be personal, and I pray it goes well. But it was unfair of me to lay so much at her feet.” I hoped to God it might work out between them, trusted her to put on a show. But ultimately, even if her behavior was perfect in all ways, the unmated generals made their demands clear. The responsibility was on my shoulders, and Maeve could never assume it. She would have her own battles, but this one was ultimately mine.

  Miranda was right; I was more powerful than I’d understood.

  Taking my cold hands in his, Cyderial warmed them, watching me closely as he waited for me to confess every last thought in my troubled head.

  “I worry. The kids at the academy… they are so sweet, Cyderial. I can’t bring myself to hurt them, even if it might be for their own good. But that’s what you expect of me. Our children suffer.” My lip shook, voice wavering, as I whispered, “I will bring a daughter into a dangerous world where she will be tortured, where at least three powerful males will try to take her, and I am forced to admit that doing this thing may ultimately make her world—every hybrid female’s world—a better place. At the cost of our child, who should never forgive me.”

  Pleading, I squeezed his hands and entreated, “You will keep us safe. I know you will.” He had to, my eyes begging that my burgeoning faith not be misplaced. “Or I will slit your throat while you sleep and burn this city to the ground. Okay?”

  One single blink. The strongest statement a fully-engaged hybrid male might make. “You would destroy the human’s city for your child?”

  I would. She was already real to me—had been for days. A little fascination I could feel as if she had already awakened in my womb. “Yes.”

  “Innocents would die,” Cyderial said, leaning closer and smelling the air between us.

  My voice was barely above a whisper. “Only if they threaten my daughter.”

  Something in my scent earned his hyper-focused attention, changed his eyes in a terrible way I could not describe. “Do you understand what you are doing right now?”

  No. Maybe?

  I was getting warmer yet shivering. Waking up yet growing sleepy.

  Aware something had begun, I instinctively knew I would be pregnant by morning.

  Nostrils flared, Cyderial sucked in a deeper breath, eyes flashing in a way I had never seen before. “It is time I return you to our nest.”

  “Not yet.” I wanted to finish my drink and work up the courage to confront Miranda, who was waiting for me, staring at us from across the courtyard. “Let me have one more night.”

  His hands holding mine shook from how hard he was holding himself in check, Cyderial scenting the air between us once again. “I can give you five more minutes.”

  Then I had better hurry.

  I stood, pretending I didn’t see how Cyderial gripped the table as if holding it might keep him off me. My scent had changed; I could feel the change too, and it was even more than a man with his fortitude could withstand.

  His obvious need ran deeper than any torment of the song.

  And as far as I knew, hybrid males had no manuals on a mate ready to invite a daughter to life.

  Marching to the women who had chosen to abandon their mates for female company in the evening breeze, I recognized many from that first night and nodded a greeting.

  Yet, I did not give Miranda the chance to speak first, as I announced to them all, “I will bear a daughter, but I will not do it alone.”

  She cocked her head as I continued, my eyes marking every last face at that table. “Every single one of you who asked this of me will bear a female child now as well. All of you. Those who refuse, I will remember. If you really want change, the sacrifice must be more than my own.”

  Miranda, belly fat from her mate’s attention, stood with her signature unhinged grin. “Every woman at this table will do as you have ordered. And not just this table, but every female hybrid of worth. All of us will help you carry the banner, or they will answer to me long before they might be known to you.”

  “And you.” My final words were for Miranda alone. “Do not think I failed to recognize your machinations at work here. Everything aligned just as you hoped.”

  Those green eyes looked as if she might actually feel fondness for me. “You are so much more than anything I could have hoped for.”

  And that reverence, that insanity, had to stop. “You may think of him as your king, but I am not your queen.”

  Lifting her wine glass in a toast, the ageless woman narrowed her eyes. “Not yet.”

  18

  Miranda and her insane objectives, I would battle another day. I had a war to win, and she had her part to play. Positioned as she was in our society—a veteran hybrid—she could exercise the influence I lacked. From the dangerous gleam in her eye, the ethereal blonde would see it done.

  Not just her.

  Each of the ranked women before me would implant a female embryo in their womb, and together, we would do our best to manipulate the males into treating us with respect.

  Force them to view us as more than chattel.

  We’d show them we were more than precious mates kept in pretty cages. That we were capable. That we could be unflinching. That we were willing to do something terrible in an effort to make the world a little less dark for our sisters and children.

  Truth be told, I envied Miranda and her cronies for their age and experience. Those women had lived. Possessed years to consider motherhood—to consider this strategy for decades, maybe centuries, that I had been roped into after only days. Each of them aware of exactly how the world worked outside the academy.

  Functioning from a place of almost-perfect ignorance, too young, there was a very real chance I would disappoint my child.

  I certainly lacked real-world experience.

  Inviting a daughter into this existence for dubious reasons did not make me a great example of motherhood. Demanding every female hybrid Miranda could reach to do the same marked me as worse.

  My desire to see my sisters rightly educated might condemn an entire generation of little girls to hell.

  And already, I was terrified.

  And excited.

  And oddly hopeful.

  I would not suffer this alone. Maeve was right. Hybrid women had to do this together.

  The thought of new life, of hybrid life just like me, in my arms? I never so much as let myself daydream on the topic. But now? I wondered what she’d look like. How she would smell snuggled close to me. If she would coo and nuzzle at my breast.

  And I shivered.

  Would she love me as I had loved my human mother?

  I already loved her—the simple idea of her—more than I might ever be able to bear. And would most likely murder Cyderial should he so much as think of taking her away.

  A single thought of being parted from my child, and a storm of imagined violence churned within me, sweeping aside the gentler parts of my psyche. The vorec in me stomped back and forth, eager to have her way. Eager to disembowel anyone foolish enough to dare harm my child.

  To indulge her would be to invite life to grow within me.

  She whispered to me secrets, tempted me to allow my baser urges to rule.

  I conceded.

  Immediately, pressure began to build in my chest, sweat prickling over my brow to cool in the evening breeze. Low noise came next. Not a thrum, no pulsating drum to threaten all nearby. A low song.

  My song.

  Loud enough even I could hear its beauty.

  A shiver shook me. Bones grew loose, tendons relaxing as I rolled my shoulders and hummed quietly to myself.

  With a rapt audience, absolute attention from both men and women, I let all in that courtyard know I was true to my word.

  The strangest sense of knowing came over me.

  I knew my daughter’s life was sparking, waking….

  A cramp undulated about my inflated belly, catching my breath, visible to all who stared.

  Sniffing the air, lips parting as if they might taste, the women watched me as if mesmerized.

  As if I were truly beautiful while half-mad with my strange humming, a few of them began to offer their own song. Like this, I could hear them sing. Understood what the men found so enticing.

  “It is a beautiful thing to witness.” Miranda’s soft gaze fixed on me, her head cocked to the side, as if admiring a delightful weapon she might wield. “Your three generals approach. Speak with them before you are too far gone, my dear.”

  The vorec in me had no interest in wasting time out in the open—she dreamed of a soft place to rest, imagined the scent of her offspring, called to her mate while she burned me alive from the inside.

  Soft edges developed around my vision, the lights in the courtyard far too bright. A new, powerful urge demanded I go to ground. That I burrow.

  And not just I.

  A dark-haired, dark-skinned beauty to the left of Miranda’s elbow—her scent changed. A powerful, heady perfume wafted from her, filling the courtyard as her body signaled the work it had begun.

  I watched her shiver and sigh, move as if popping every bone in her spine. One moment, she was docile, the next, hastening to her mate, who was rough with her in a way she clearly enjoyed.

  He had her over his shoulder, racing off to see to her needs, while other females began calling to their mates, beckoning partners to claim all they offered—upsetting the gathering, the evening, and the tables.

  Chaos grew, couples crashing together, all witnessed by the unfortunate unmated males who had no female to sing for them.

  Skin growing so sensitive that even the thought of touch had my breasts aching, I took a stumbling step away from the table and almost wept in relief to find Cyderial’s strength meet my back.

  He had come to me.

  Hands to my arms, squeezing a bit too tight, he pressed his nose to my hair and inhaled as deeply as his ribs might stretch.

  “The generals…” One touch of him and I did not feel at all like myself. He was the catalyst that would bring me to my knees, a necessary balm to a gnawing need growing deep in my belly. “They must give me their word.”

  Groaning in such a way it seemed Cyderial suffered even more than I, my mate worked to restrain his own growing need, murmuring as his lips brushed my temple, “Demand your price, then you are mine.”

  With the light growing too bright to tolerate, I faced the trio standing still in the chaos of partnering couples and overturned tables, far too close for my comfort.

  Fair, stoic General Boreal and deviously smirking General Murdoch hovered near wherever I went, watching me with their unblinking stares.

  General Aegir, silver hair gleaming, blinding, dared smile. Yet there was no joy on General Boreal’s countenance, and even foxlike Murdoch possessed no happiness in that smirk.

  In a breathy voice heavily laced with song, I said, “As you know, Maeve has agreed to submit to General Thayer. She does this in full knowledge of what he expects and how it will alter her future.” Leaning into Cyderial, I melted, shut my eyes to the burning light, and knew a gnawing agitation to still be out in the open. “I will grow pregnant, and you three will keep your word to me. You will also keep your distance. You may not interfere with her rearing. I do not care how loudly her song may call to you; you cannot have her until she is fully grown.”

  Trembling, I added, “When she is twenty-two, as I am now, she will choose which of the three of you pleases her most—assuming you hear her song. That male will have to earn her affection, as Cyderial earns mine. There will be no infighting or foolishness. Try to take her, and I will make you suffer.”

  Looming terrible at my back, gravel in his voice, Cyderial threatened their very lives, “Give Lorieyn your word now, and be done with it—you will support her in gaining sexual education for our females, and you will back away.”

  Far too intrigued with my scent to argue the finer points, daring to sup air, General Murdoch was the first to agree. “You have my support. But I will hold the baby after her birth, and updates on her progress will be given. If you wish me to court her, then her personality cannot remain a mystery. Do this, and I will not resort to other means to know my future mate.”

  “Fine,” Cyderial agreed.

  Fine? No. I did not and would not agree. No one but me would touch my child. Yet before I might hiss my strong disagreement, Cyderial’s palm slid over my throat.

  Not in threat.

  This grip was something very different.

  Something led my eyes to flutter closed, urged me to tip back my head and forget arguing finer details with lesser men.

  To trust him to handle everything. A reminder he would take charge now.

  I had other work to do.

  Important work.

  Fiery work deep, deep in my core.

  My mate snarled, “Aegir, Boreal, give her your word, or you will never know our child.”

  “Of course she has my support!” Aegir sneered, cutting enough that I parted my lashes to find him showing teeth.

  Yet, it was Boreal, voice rich with dissatisfaction, who dissented. “I hate you as much as I envy you in this moment, Cyderial. You have my support, but in flaunting this before me, you have lost my friendship.”

  “I do not need your friendship. I need to remind you of your place.” Unfriendly, unkind, and aggressive, the male at my back bristled. “You may hear her song in this moment, but this one is mine. Lorieyn was always mine. She was mine all the years of her life. Mine when I lied to you about abandoning my search for a mate. Mine when I heard your sorrows and pretended they were my own.” The sharper edges of Cyderial’s voice softened. “Keep your friendship. I betrayed your trust. But you would have done the same were the roles reversed. Just as you would do anything for the daughter I will help her nestle in her womb.”

  “Anything,” General Boreal agreed, but he stared with as much unhappiness as any male might now.

  Parting my eyes to look upon the men was like trying to stare into the sun, but I needed reassurance. “Promise me next that each of you will keep her safe.”

  Because that terrible fear could not be quashed, even by my growing fever.

  All three vehemently gave their word with such authority, supremacy, and command that my lingering fear drifted away.

  Daring a step nearer, practically buzzing, Murdoch thought to reach out and touch the swell of my belly.

  It was Aegir who threw him back, grabbing the sinewy, dangerous man by the stuff of his coat and chucking him into the empty tables.

  As they began to brawl, something inside me began fluttering, pulsating, the twinge driving me to tiptoe as I bore down on the plug. Panting, utterly distracted, I hardly noticed the snarling men, nor appreciated how it was an agitated General Boreal who urged Cyderial to carry me off. Who had retracted his friendship from my mate yet saw to my care before falling victim to his baser urges.

  Gravity vanished, strong arms gathering me up to steal me away. Wrapping myself around my mate’s neck I found his scent delightful, offering a low, pretty hum from my breast so he might paint the air with more sweetness.

  I gave that salty strip of flesh an eager lick. One taste of him and my insides fought wildly against the plug, shameless in their grinding squeeze.

  It almost felt like climax, except it hurt.

  And my whimper let him know.

  Insides seizing, sweat on my brow, I tucked my face into Cyderial neck and whined, “Please, take me home.”

  His driver had the vehicle ready, door open, so Cyderial might get me inside and out of the light. Almost immediately, we were in the air.

  Nose to my skin, my hair, at my ear, scenting my throat, my mate was caught in his own fever. Encouraging whatever he found with a loud, thumping drum.

  His sounds poured into me like a balm, so similar to the noise he battered against my senses the night I had been stolen and opened—insistent, visceral, pulsing through my bones in a way that made the discomfort turn into liquid pleasure.

  Yet I grew more irritated with each passing minute.

  There were unknown things I needed, but they were not within reach.

  His car was not an appropriate place to do important work.

  Thoughts growing fuzzy, skin burning, I tried to puzzle out my temper, barking at him to stop pawing me, all while rubbing against him like a vorec in heat.

  Feverish, muddled, and growing exponentially more aggressive as the minutes wore on, I may have done some serious damage to the interior of his car.

  Petulant, I didn’t want to be in a hover vehicle—the interior too hot and the remnant ribbons of my clothing too constricting. Had my belly not been hugely full already, I would have thought heat had come.

  I starved.

  “Comfort me.” The whine came out as if from another woman’s mouth, sulky, sullen, and very, very enticing.

  Yet the tiniest flash of humiliation was enough to snap me out of my stupor. I found myself straddling and rubbing up against a very aroused male, whose clothing I had shredded beyond repair.

  I may have been sexually forward with him in private, but never in this manner and never with such violence.