“He doesn’t love me anymore.” She closed her eyes and an image of Mal laughing in bed beside her flashed across her field of vision. Everything that had happened between them, everything they had been through… none of it mattered to Mal anymore. None of it. She opened her eyes and pulled her hands from Mortalis’s to cover her mouth.

Her stomach rebelled. She ran to the toilet and vomited, heaving her guts out. She sat back on her heels. Velimai kneeled beside her and handed her the washcloth, then signed something to Mortalis that Chrysabelle caught out of the corner of her eye.

She wiped her mouth and shook her head. “Don’t. Don’t say that. There’s no way that can be true. Not now.”

Velimai’s hands stopped moving and she glanced at Chrysabelle. Sorry.

But somehow, Chrysabelle knew Velimai was right. She dropped the washcloth and folded her trembling hands over her thumping heart. Slowly, they slid down to her belly.

“Holy mother.” A debilitating weight settled over her. “I’m pregnant. How is that possible?”

“The plane…” Mortalis trailed off, looking slightly ill.

“I know how it’s possible, just not how it’s possible between Mal and me.” She covered her face with her hands for a moment as it hit her. “Holy mother. This is why comarrés aren’t supposed to sleep with their patrons.”

Velimai nodded. He bit you, didn’t he? For those few moments, he was as mortal as you are.

Chrysabelle shook her head. “But it’s only been a week.” Her stomach rolled again and she swallowed.

You’re comarré. He’s a vampire. You both regenerate at an accelerated rate. Velimai frowned. It might not be too late to rid yourself of—

“No,” Chrysabelle shouted, her voice bouncing off the bathroom walls. She pushed to her feet even though she felt like collapsing. With a hand on her stomach, she stared down the two fae across from her. “I don’t want to hear another word about getting rid of it, and I don’t want anyone knowing what’s happening until I figure out what to do about this, understood?”

Mortalis and Velimai both nodded.

Chrysabelle walked out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed Mal had just vacated. “I’d like to be alone now.”

Nodding, they both left, closing the door behind them. She lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Mal’s dark spice permeated her sheets. She rested one hand on her belly. Pregnant. With a cursed vampire’s child.

After what Tatiana had done to get a hold of Preacher’s child, what would she do when she found out Mal had fathered one with a genuine comarré?

Or worse, what would Mal do when he found out? He no longer loved her. She had no reason to believe a child would change that.

She covered her stomach with both hands as fresh fear iced her skin. One thing was certain. She would protect this child no matter how much blood she had to spill.

No matter who that blood belonged to.