INFERTILE.

Broken.

You’re not the first who can no longer have children from what was done to them.

Mercer’s words flew sickly inside my skull.

Screw him.

Curse him.

What in the ever-loving fuck was he thinking?

I stood swaying in the foyer, frozen to the spot, scalding hot with fury.

Some might say my timing was perfectly orchestrated to hear the horror Pim had kept from me. Others would say it was cruel to listen and not give her the chance to tell me herself. I would say the only one at fault was that French fucking bastard who once again hurt the one creature I loved more than anything.

It wasn’t as if I’d planned this terrible circumstance.

It wasn’t as if I’d hobbled down the stairs, still faint from injury and woozy with weakness, just in time to see Pim break apart.

“Shit,” Selix muttered, crossing his arms beside me. “Want me to kill him?”

I bared my teeth. “If anyone is killing him, it’s me.” I didn’t care another fight would most likely put me in a coffin instead of a hospital.

He’d overstepped the line.

Again.

The past hour, I’d enlisted Selix’s help in climbing from a stale bed, removing boots and bandages, and showering away the filth Pim had missed in my sponge bath. I’d eaten the cold meal left on the bedside table, submitted to oral antibiotics in return for having the drip removed from my hand, and then grimaced my way through dressing in loose trousers and black t-shirt.

My temper hadn’t been the best when I’d woken and found Selix as my nurse instead of Pim. And it’d only grown worse the more pain and frustration I suffered as I prepared to leave this hellhole.

Hopping down the steps like a cripple had not been easy.

Seeing the foyer where I’d wanted to kill Q and failed wasn’t good on my self-control.

But this?

Hearing the very man I wanted to murder tell the love of my life that she couldn’t have children in such an arrogant, heartless way…yep, I wanted to fucking behead him.

Gritting my teeth, I took a pained step toward the lounge, ready to deliver another round of carnage. But a Pim-shaped bullet flew from the double doors, careened over the foyer tiles, and slammed directly into my chest.

“Fuck.” I grunted, cursing as my ankle bent in a way it shouldn’t, and her trajectory pounded my fractured ribs. Despite fresh agony, my arms instantly claimed her, wrapping tight, ruined shoulder and elbow clutching her close.

Her face tilted up, her lips slightly blue, her eyes totally wild, and I understood exactly where she was.

In the heart of panic. In the eye of an attack.

Fear for her overrode any discomfort I felt. “Come with me.” I wrapped my arm around her waist as she buried her face into my chest, gasping as her lungs made a desperate attempt for breath.

Shit.

“It’s okay, Pim. I’ve got you.” Half-hopping, half-stalking into the library opposite the lounge, I focused on getting her away from that asshole and breathing again.

Selix remained where he was, a buffer between me and Mercer.

Pim didn’t try to fight me, and the minute we were alone in the library, she darted from my embrace while I struggled to close the double doors with one hand.

As privacy and quietness fell around us, I spun to face her only to find her on the carpet by the cold fireplace. Her arms wrapped tight around her ribs, her mouth open, her gaze latched onto something I couldn’t see.

She rocked gently on her knees, her hair swinging around her shoulders. No noise, no tears, nothing to hint at the destruction of panic inside.

Goddammit, she’d been so brave and beautiful—tending to me, doing everything she could to ensure I was comfortable and cared for—and now, when she’d needed me, I hadn’t been there for her.

Shit, the guilt.

“I’m so sorry, Pim.”

She didn’t register, still locked in icy panic. Her vacancy to outer world things reminded me of me and what’d happened last night. I’d descended into an odd place during sex—a place I’d never visited and wasn’t sure if I loved or loathed. It’d robbed me of a few memories but given greater clarity to others. It’d twisted something I already enjoyed into something I was desperate to attempt again. I’d never been so present in one task. Never been so consumed by a single factor—even with my OCD.

It had been magic. But no matter the individualism of what’d happened, it didn’t stop me recalling just how incredible she’d been and just how much it broke me now to see her like this.

She hung her head, her lips still wide for breath.

I didn’t speak again. Words couldn’t reach her, but touch could.

Moving toward her, I lowered myself painfully into a leather buttoned chair close by, then leaned forward and ran my fingers through her hair.

The instant I touched her, she shattered like fine crystal.

Tears sprang from nowhere, and she scrambled across the carpet to wedge between my legs. Her strong, slim arms wrapped around me as her face pressed into my thigh.

Having her seek comfort and help—seeing her this way on her knees before me, knowing she was hurting far more than I could ever understand—ruined the final pieces of my already ruined heart.

“Ah, Pim.” I bent over her, stroking her back, kissing her hair, holding her as she sat on the carpet and clung to me. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

I cupped her head as she half-strangled, half-sobbed. She trembled so much, she made my body quake to match hers.

Her pain might not be physical, but she hurt, and I wished I could take it all away. I’d chop it into tiny fragments and burn them one by one. I’d burn everything until there was nothing left to torment her.

Including that bastard.

“It’s okay, Pim. It’s okay.” I kissed her forehead, brushing aside sweaty strands, rubbing away the clammy fear on her skin. “Don’t listen to that fucking Frenchman. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

How dare he upset her with hearsay and incorrect assumptions? She was young. She was healthy. There was no earthly reason why she—we—couldn’t have children if she wanted—

We.

Me…a father.

The thought struck me dead.

How funny that I’d spent my entire life pining for a family who didn’t want me, purchasing toys for cousins, creating safe havens for relations, only to never dare contemplate making my own family.

So what I’d been banished from one? I could create another. One with Pim who I loved more than anyone. A son or daughter who would love me for me and not hate me for my past.

Holy fu—

“No.” Pim interrupted my coal-chugging thoughts. She shook her head, another sharp sob falling from her lips. “He’s right.”

“No one that egotistical is ever right.”

She blanched. “But…in this matter, he is.”

“What…what are you saying?” It was my turn to suffocate beneath the heaviness of horror. “Pim, what do you mean?”

She buried her face in my lap, crying harder.

As much as I wanted answers, as much as I snarled to know if I should cull such concepts of children, I let her hide. After all, I needed the time to piece together my own torture.

I couldn’t pretend, sitting in this library, that this was the first time I’d thought about having a kid. I had. Of course, I had—no matter what bullshit I fed myself. A man like me who lived for family would look at every avenue to replace what was lost.

However, I could never bring something I loved so implicitly that they had the power to kill me if anything bad happened into this bad, bad world. Too many dangers. Too many criminals and thieves.

I should know.

I am one.

Having a kid would surely put me in an early grave with worry and concern, and besides, my life was about vengeance not procreation. Not until I’d cleansed the world of the Chinmoku could I, or any loved one, be safe again.

You’re lying again.

Even before coming face to face with Q’s son after our fight the other night, I’d known he had a child. I’d seen the baby toys the moment I entered his home. It was hard not to with an overanalysing brain like mine. He lived a dangerous existence, just like I did, yet he’d found a way to protect his loved ones.

I wouldn’t say it was easy being around children after being denied any involvement with my younger cousins, but I’d long since stopped tearing myself up, wishing for things I could never have.

Lying again.

I balled my hands, admitting to myself what I hadn’t wanted to face.

Eventually, once all the shit I’d caused was righted, I might’ve broached the subject of pregnancy with Pimlico. Only if she reached a happier place. Only if she married me. And only if we were in a much safer existence.

Only then would we have sat down and discussed expanding our love to others we co-created. But whatever children we might or might not have had, it didn’t change how I felt about her. Having a son or daughter wasn’t a requirement to be happy.

That echoing emptiness inside me had filled the moment I found Pim. It’d remained filled having her in my world. I didn’t need anyone or anything ever again. Just her.

Only, now…that emptiness returned, recognising the same emptiness in her, hating that she hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me what burdened her.

Using the gentlest tone I could, I stroked her with soft fingertips. “You’re not capable of having—”

“No!” She burrowed deeper between my legs. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?”

“Because I can never give you a family!” Her tears grew louder, her breathing fast and chopped, instead of laboured and stubborn. “Because I can’t give you what you need.”

“What I need?”

“A family of your own, El. A son or daughter to replace—” Her sadness interrupted her. “I-I never thought I wanted that. I never believed—” She gulped harder. “I want it. So much.” Her face scrunched as yet more anguish found her. “I want it so, so much, and I can never have it.”

Fuck me.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Bending completely over her, I didn’t care if she was smothered. I had to hold her. Had to show her she didn’t need to hide her pain from me. I’d known she could see past my walls and read me better than anyone, but I hadn’t been prepared for her to totally understand me.

To know that family was what drove me.

Not money.

Not power.

Not revenge.

I was a simple man with simple goals and she saw me far, far too clearly.

And she wants that just as much as I do.

As fast as I’d gone from refusing a scenario where Pim would bear my child, now I couldn’t erase the image of her pregnant and beaming.

As I held her crying form, I finally understood what ate away at her. What she’d been harbouring, festering, hiding deep, deep down so I wouldn’t share her agony.

That fucking bastard, Alrik, had taken her past and her future. She’d walked away from his corpse, but she’d never truly walk away from his ghost—forever reminded of him thanks to her barrenness.

I clutched her harder, hugging far too tight but needing her to understand I got it. I knew exactly where her mind was and, although I didn’t have answers or fixes, I would be there for her no matter what.

“Pimlico…you need to talk to me.” Leaning up, I pried her face away from my lap with sturdy fingers. Holding her jaw so she had no choice but to look up, I murmured, “When did you find out?”

How long have you been lying to me, little mouse?

The hospital? The police? The check-ups?

That hurt worse than the terrible news of her infertility. The fact that she hadn’t trusted me. That she’d willingly withheld.

What else had she kept from me, believing it was for my own good?

“You lied to me,” I whispered. “You said the tests all came back fine.”

Her skin cast pale cream; her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Her gaze darted away before she found the courage to make eye contact and hold it. “I am healthy, so in a way, the tests were fine.” She inhaled hard, waiting for me to explode or berate her.

I merely grazed my thumb over her cheekbone and didn’t push her to continue. She had to find the best way to tell me, and I had to allow her time to do it.

Finally, she slouched, defeated and drained in my hold, spilling everything in a rush. “They said my insides are messed up from what was used on me. That the incorrect lubrications and unsanitary items have ruined any chance of conceiving. The scarring both physical and chemical…it’s too extensive.”

My analytical brain immediately chose disbelief as a rational argument. Pim was mine and she was perfect—therefore, there couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with her. She wasn’t flawed or broken. She’d never been flawed or broken—no matter what sort of things she’d lived through.

Clutching her hand, I squeezed, partly for her benefit and partly for mine. “That’s one person’s conclusion. Doctors sometimes get it wrong. We’ll look for another opinion.”

She squeezed back, guilt and shame and apology all over her face. “The doctor in charge said the same thing. That was why she had someone else look at the results.”

“Fine, we’ll get a third.” I smirked, playing to my flaws, hoping to cheer her up. “You know my love of such a number.”

She smiled faintly, her panic attack finally fading from her gaze. “There was a third. Followed by yet another examination. They all said the same thing. I didn’t want to tell you this way. I’m sorry for keeping it from you, but I had no idea how to bring it up. How to destroy any hopes of having children in the future. How to hide the fact I went from a silly slave to a desperate mother all in one moment.”

Her head fell forward as if praying to the false idol that was me. “I’ve never felt anything like it before. When people say you know if you want children and you know if you don’t, I understand that now. I know one hundred percent I want them—only, my body no longer has that option so…I’ll come to terms with it. I’ll be fine.” She looked up through chocolate bangs. “I’m sorry for scaring you, Elder. I’m okay now. It’s not a big deal.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Pim. Don’t sugar-coat how gutted you are. It’s a huge fucking deal.” I cupped her chin, leaning close. “And you’re not the only one it affects. I won’t lie and say it doesn’t tear me up inside. Knowing how much you’re hurting and finally seeing just how perfect you truly are—it kills me. You want a family as much as I do. You want kids as much as….I never dreamed—”

I kissed her.

I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t prevent my tongue from lapping up her salty sadness and doing my damnedest to steal her grief.

She flinched into our kiss, her mouth hesitant to dance with mine. She spoke against my lips. “I’m sorry I can’t give you the family you deserve, El.”

“Bullshit.” Grabbing her from the floor, I tugged her onto my lap. I didn’t care about aches and pinches and pain. She came unwillingly, not because she needed the space but because she eyed up my injuries and bandages and tried to keep from adding more pressure to damaged parts of me with her weight.

Too bad I didn’t give her an option.

I needed her close.

I needed her to truly hear this and believe me because it was the God’s honest truth and would never fucking change.

“Stop fighting me. Sit down.”

Wincing a little as if sharing the agony I lived with, she sank the final way, giving me the privilege of holding her.

Sighing heavily, she whispered, “I didn’t want you to know. I’m sorry for that.”

“First, you need to stop apologising. None of this is your fault.” I kept my feelings about her hiding things locked away. She’d guessed her lies were part of what I struggled with—I didn’t need to enforce her fear that I would flip out or blame her for any part of this.

I never would.

Fucking ever.

Holding her close, I breathed in the sweet scent of her skin. “Second, why didn’t you want me to know?”

“Because I know how highly you hold family and you’ve fallen in love with a girl who can’t give you one.”

Chuckling under my breath, doing my best to scatter the sudden heartbreak she’d caused, I brushed hair behind her ear. “Pimlico…you have given me a family.”

Her eyes widened. “How?”

“You’ve given me you.”

She sucked in a breath. “But—”

“No buts.” Pressing my nose to hers, I whispered, “No one else can give me everything I’ve been missing in one perfect package. You’re it for me. Regardless if we can have children together or not. I don’t need them. Not anymore. Not while I have you.”

This time, she let me kiss her.

She kissed me back.

She let me heal a small part of her while I buried my own pain that we’d always remain a duet instead of a trilogy.

But as she moaned and melted in my arms, something insanely grateful washed through me. Something hot and thick and overwhelming in love and thankfulness for falling head over heels for this girl.

Any problems could be overcome. Any injury could be healed. Any bad news could be solved. But true love—real soul-deep connection…that could never be faked or forged.

Everything else was just white noise compared to that gift.

Pim kissed me harder, looping her arms carefully around my sore shoulders. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” I kissed her back, our tongues tangling.

This moment would’ve been perfect but for one thing. One tiny thing such as privacy and personal comfort. I’d had more than I could stand living in someone else’s house.

“We need to go home, little mouse.” I nipped at her bottom lip. “I miss the sea.”

“Home.” She fluttered kisses on my lips. “Yes, let’s go home.”

I needed the ocean.

I needed open spaces.

I needed Pim all to myself to heal these new heartbreak wounds she’d given me.