Breed Me. Daddy Alpha novel Chapter 206

The second the words left my mouth, I blinked at myself in the mirror like I was expecting some magical answer to pop out of the sink drain. But no, there was just me-sweaty, puffy-lipped, flushed like I’d just had a panic attack and an orgasm at the same time, staring at my own reflection with a kind of blank horror.

“But come to think of it.” I said, grabbing paper towels to blot my face even though I looked like I’d been dragged through a storm of hormones. “Have I ever heard him talk about babies? No. Not once. Not ever. He talks about killing rogues. He talks about territory lines. He talks about punishing people. He talks about… knotting.”

I groaned. “So much knotting.”

“But like… has he ever seen a stroller and said, ‘Aww’?” I asked myself, throwing the paper towel in the trash with way too much force. “Has he ever held a baby? What if he hates babies? What if he thinks babies are annoying and loud and sticky and they cry too much and interrupt his brooding?”

I gasped dramatically.

“What if he thinks babies are weak?”

My hands flew to my face again. “Oh my God, what if he thinks I’m weak now? Like, here I am, walking around with his baby maybe forming in my uterus like a little Alpha bean and instead of being like ‘wow, that’s hot,’ he’s like ‘ew, responsibility.””

I started pacing again, slapping my thighs with each step like I was in a courtroom and I was the chaotic lawyer and the terrified client all at once.

“What if he calls me a liability?” I muttered, mocking his voice under my breath. “You’ve been compromised, kitten. You’re soft now. I can’t knot you on the balcony anymore because you’re carrying a future Alpha and you need to stay hydrated and wear sensible shoes.””

I gagged.

“Sensible shoes, Damon? Really? I’m barely eighteen and I already don’t know who I am anymore.”

I spun around and pointed at my reflection with both hands like I was on a game show and had just guessed the wrong answer. “Does he like babies? I don’t know! I don’t know anything! He likes cigars, he likes control, he likes growling in my ear while he’s balls deep inside me, and he likes saying ‘mine’ like I’m some kind of chew toy he doesn’t want to share.”

I pressed both palms to the counter, exhaled slowly, and stared at the sink.

“Okay. So maybe he doesn’t like babies. But what if he likes his babies? Like… maybe he doesn’t want to coo over someone else’s newborn, but if it’s his, he’d be like, “That’s my bloodline, don’t let it touch anything dirty, give it a knife.””

I paused.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, blinking. “What if our baby has a knife before it has teeth?”

And then I laughed.

I actually laughed. Loud. Breathless. Slightly hysterical.

I clutched my chest and shook my head, and somewhere between the panic and the confusion and the hormone-fueled disaster running through my bloodstream, I felt something warm. Something scary. Something… real.

Because as terrifying as it all is?

As absolutely chaotic and not-ready-for-this as I feel?

The idea of Damon holding a baby-our baby-with one hand wrapped protectively around its tiny little body while growling at anyone who looked at it wrong?

Kind of made my heart flutter.

And also my pussy clench.

“Okay,” I said to myself again, firmer now. “You can do this. You’re going to tell him. You’re going to march your maybe- pregnant ass right out of this bathroom and face the Alpha who ruined you, and you’re not going to cry. Or faint. Or throw up. Probably.”

I grabbed my phone. Stepped toward the door. Took one deep breath to psych myself up and remind myself that I was strong, I was grown, and I was about to go tell the Alpha who ruined my body and maybe gave me his baby that I was very possibly pregnant and extremely emotionally unstable about it.

Then I quickly tilted my phone screen away from her line of sight and clicked the home button before she could see the big bold notification from my Flo app practically screaming “YOU’RE LATE.” I shoved it in the back pocket of my jeans like it didn’t hold the entire record of my possibly life-altering sexual choices.

And then I smiled.

Because I was tired.

Because I was hormonal.

Because I was this close to either bursting into tears or slapping someone.

And because I simply did not have the fucking time.

“Oh please,” I said, rolling my eyes so hard they nearly flew out of my skull. “Enough, Tasha. Get out of the way. I thought we already had this conversation. You threw the fit. I survived it. We moved on. I’m not going to keep explaining myself to you like I owe you some kind of purity report on my vagina.”

She didn’t move.

So I stepped closer.

Shoulder to shoulder.

Not flinching.

“Grow up! Get over it! There is nothing you can do! Your Dad is my MATE! Just live with it,” I said, my voice low and cold now. “Now get the hell out of my way. I need to be somewhere.”