Chapter Twenty-Nine
Scarlett
“Ineed to get on birth control,” I murmur the next morning, yawning. Monster looks up from his laptop and gives me a careful once-over. I drink a few sips of orange juice, waiting for him to tell me he’ll send me down to medical and get it taken care of.
For his many, many faults, I can’t say that Greyson neglects my physical needs. They’re front and center in his priorities, sometimes at the cost of his own needs. Even when he was knocking on death’s door, he was worried about any lingering pain in my arm far more than he was worried for himself.
After a few beats of silence, he shakes his head. “No.”
Surprise tightens my chest. Not a fun sort of surprise, but something far more sinister.
What does he mean, no? It wasn’t an optional question; I need to get on birth control.
While my childhood left certain scars, both internal and external, it’s still possible I’ll get pregnant… and that can’t happen. Not here.
“Excuse me?” I ask faintly, blinking slowly.
“No, you’re not getting on birth control,” Monster repeats. “Whatever happens will happen.”
Cold settles in my stomach as I replay the recent, passionate bouts of sex we’ve had. Monster came in me so many times I lost count, then repeatedly gathered the cum that dripped out of me, shoved it back into my pussy, and wrenched another orgasm out of me.
Could that have been his attempt to get me pregnant? It seems ludicrous. Preposterous. But I also have to admit it’s possible. This is, after all, Monster. He has very few limits on what he will and won’t do.
“Are you… trying to get me pregnant?” I ask quietly.
Monster doesn’t blink. The asshole does not blink. He stares at me unflinchingly for several minutes, then finally lifts his shoulders in a casual shrug.
“I have no plans to do anything to prevent it.”
“Monster.” My voice is faint. “Even if I wanted to be a mother, this is no place to raise a child. Surrounded by killers with hair-trigger tempers. How could you—how can you want that? How could you leave the possibility open?”
“I’m doing more than leaving the possibility open,” Monster murmurs. “I’m actively turning it into a probability.”
My temper flares. “Fuck you, Monster. Fuck—you. This is low, even for you. Even if I did get pregnant—which is a huge if—this would not be the place for it. I wouldn’t sit by and idly accept it. You can’t…” I shake my head, shocked even though I shouldn’t be.
Monster is still Monster, despite being slightly calmer now than he was before.
I might have a little bit more freedom than I previously did—or at least, the illusion of it—and I might no longer be eyeing the door every moment, because there is something between me and Greyson.
But that hasn’t changed his controlling nature—not really.
“Alright, let’s address your concerns,” Monster says, shutting the screen on his laptop and leaning forward. He folds his hands on the table, and it suddenly feels like we’re at a negotiating table rather than the dining table.
“First of all, there are no operatives here who have a hair-trigger temper,” he enunciates slowly.
“Every man is thoroughly vetted and extremely methodical with what he does. They all have their specialties, but generally, we don’t accept impulsive people into the ranks.
Next,” he goes on, “you need to consider that I will not be the only man who wishes for a family. Max will, no doubt, and others who get Chosen ones. Not all, but enough to make a significant impact—so infrastructure will be built that’s conducive to raising families. ”
“Families that grow up in this place,” I say heatedly. “Babies that aren’t allowed to leave—”
“You’re under the mistaken impression that you’re not allowed into the outside world.
That’s false. This will always be our home base, because we’re actually safe here, but trips into cities, towns, whatever are not out of the question.
The reason I haven’t taken you out is it’s been less than a week since you’ve started to accept me—you’re not ready.
I’m not going to risk you running away, Flower, because I flat out refuse to live my life without you. ”
Although I hate him in this moment, he does have a point.
If I were to ever have a family, I’d be safer here than anywhere else.
Out in the world, I’ll constantly be looking over my shoulder, either for enemies of my brother or my father.
Even if my father is killed next week, he’ll have enemies.
If any of them dig deep enough, they might find out about me, and then come for me, much like Monster did.
Here, however, I’d be surrounded by an army.
That still does not mean I want to have children right now. There have been several times when I thought about motherhood and yearned for it, but my yearning has always been tempered by the knowledge that I’ve led too much of a broken life to be a truly successful mother.
“I can’t believe you,” I manage to say. “Every step forward leads to a dozen steps back. You take off my collar, only to try to replace it with a baby in my belly.”
Monster still doesn’t blink. “Don’t act so surprised, Scarlett. You know who I am. You know how much I love you and how deep my obsession runs. You know I’ll do everything in my power to connect us, to keep you.”
“A child isn’t a conduit for us to be closer!” I snap. “It’s a fucking lifelong commitment, Monster. Before you decide to really knock me up, consider this. Where would they go to school? How would they get socialized? How will we make sure they grow up well-adjusted in modern society?”
Finally, Monster blinks. He frowns a bit, contemplating. Looks like I finally got through to him.
“I’d appreciate it if you at least have the courtesy to think things through before changing my life without having the decency to ask,” I snap, standing up.
I make my way to the living room, where Luci’s lazing on the couch.
He looks up at me, blinks, and meows. I pick him up in my arms and head to the bedroom, shutting the door behind me.
Hopefully, Monster will find the decency to leave me the fuck alone today, because I am in no mood to deal with any more of his shit.
Thankfully, Monster does leave me alone for the day.
I don’t even head to the greenhouse, because I don’t want to cross paths with him.
Somewhere around 1p.m, he opens the bedroom door to summon me for lunch; when I shout for him to fuck off, he disappears, only for a quiet knock to sound a few minutes later.
When I crack the door, I see a tray of food on the floor. Something shifts and morphs in my chest. He’s giving me space and still taking care of me.
What the hell am I supposed to make of this man?
At dinner time, he once again opens the door. This time, when I snap at him to leave, he doesn’t listen.
“We’re eating in the dining hall tonight,” Monster says simply. “Get dressed.”
I’m still wearing my pajamas from this morning; I haven’t had the energy to do anything but stew all day.
“I don’t want to eat in the dining hall,” I say petulantly. I don’t know if I’m more pissed at Monster for trying to impregnate me without giving me a heads up, or for the fact that he didn’t actually think through the logistics of having a child.
“Too bad,” Monster says simply. “I’ll carry you down if I have to.
You haven’t socialized in the compound yet, which is probably my mistake.
I didn’t want to have you around the guys until we were in a better place.
But you need to realize that the men here aren’t all stone-cold monsters.
They’re not Cain. They’re regular guys who eat and laugh and drink—”
“And kill for a living.”
“Yes, that’s their job, but it’s not their identity. So, put on clothes, or I’ll carry you out as you are now.”
He’s using the no-bullshit tone I’ve come to recognize. I know I won’t win this battle.
Ten minutes later, we’re in the elevator, and a minute after that, in the dining hall.
The room is wide and long, a cavern of stone and wood.
High ceilings stretch above, held steady by thick cement pillars.
A row of glimmering windows line the far wall, and beams of moonlight stream through, intermixing with the gentle yellow light shining from fixtures overhead and casting an oddly inviting glow across the space.
Metal tables are scattered across the hall in deliberate disarray—some clustered as if for strategy, others standing alone.
I’m instantly overwhelmed by the chatter in the room.
Sitting around circular tables are groups of guys who are eating and talking loudly so as to be heard over the noise.
There are about a dozen tables, only some of them populated, and as I survey the crowd, I realize why Monster brought me down here.
This seems almost… normal. Two of the tables have games of cards going on. At another one, guys are arm-wrestling each other. I blink in shock.
Greyson wraps his hand around my arm and starts steering me through the crowd and noise. The conversations die down at some of the tables as the guys look at me with curiosity, but none of them try to speak to me. They just… stare.
A flush of embarrassment at the scrutiny rises to my cheeks. I shift a little closer to Greyson. I don’t necessarily feel unsafe, just terribly off-balance.
My eyes land on the most unique feature of the dining hall: a throne that sits atop a dais at the head of the room.
Cain idles there, one arm leaning against the arm rest, chin propped in his hand.
He’s staring straight at me, his usual blank mask in place, and it takes everything inside me to look away and choose to ignore him.
He’s the greatest danger in this place—I can see that now. The rest of the men… while I’m certain they each possess a stone-cold killer, this scene proves that the Nighthawks aren’t slaves to their inner killers.