Page 60 of Sacrifice

The silence stretches taut as Gunnar processes my words. He places his hands over mine, skin to skin, a connection that speaks volumes in the absence of sound. Could I be…? The thought is both terrifying and thrilling, an unknown path that suddenly forks before us.

“Are you saying there’s a chance…?” His question is a whisper, a reflection of the vulnerability we are both reluctant to show.

“Maybe.” I can’t recall the exact date of my last dose, and the uncertainty casts a shadow over the warm water surrounding us. It’s foolish, really, how something so critical could slip through the cracks of our chaotic lives.

I guess between escaping the Eclipse, getting captured by a cult, packing up with five guys…it kind of got away from me.

“Would you want to be careful…or…” Gunnar leaves the question hanging, a tacit acknowledgment of the life-changing choice before us.

“Or?” I prompt gently, despite the frantic beating of my heart.

“Or would you want…that?”

Fuck…I can’t even begin to answer that question. The idea of a child—in this world, with him—it’s a dream wrapped in nightmares, a possibility fraught with danger and yet brimming with a strange, fierce hope.

“Would I want that?” The words taste unfamiliar on my tongue, a confession of a desire I hadn’t dared acknowledge even to myself. The thought of carrying his child, of being a mother, sends a wave of longing through me, fierce and protective.

I loved my mother, and I loved my grandmother. My childhood got fucked up fast…but it had its brilliant, beautiful moments.

I can imagine teaching my own daughter chess.

I turn in Gunnar’s arms, the shift in the water making ripples that lap gently at the edges of the bathtub. His body responds beneath me, a reminder of our primal connection in this otherwise tranquil moment. I lock onto his blue eyes with an intensity that feels like I’m diving into the depths of the ocean.

“The world isn’t exactly handing out safety awards right now,” I start, my voice barely above the murmur of water. “But despite all that…I’d love to see you as a father.” My fingers trace the line of his jaw, feeling the stubble that’s begun to form. “I want to make us—not just a pack—but a family.”

The words hang between us, heavy and significant. I lean forward, resting my forehead against his, sharing breaths, sharing the weight of what we’re considering.

“What do you want, Gunnar?” I whisper, the question more vulnerable than I expect it to sound.

He’s silent for a long beat, contemplation etching his features. “My own childhood was a mess,” he admits, his voice a low rumble against the quiet backdrop of our pack’s revelry beyond the bathroom door. “I didn’t know my mother. Or…I did, but I didn’t know she was my mother. And my dad died, and…I mean, life in the Angels can be hard for a kid.”

Gunnar swallows hard, as if the admission costs him something, then lifts a hand to cradle the back of my head. “But if it happens—if we happened—I’d fight tooth and nail to give our child a different story. To protect you both, no matter what this twisted world throws our way.”

I bite my lip, a mix of emotions swirling inside me, as I feel Gunnar’s arousal stir against my thigh. My hand slides down between us, and I guide him to where we both need him to be. His breath hitches as I rub myself against his length, teasing us both with what’s to come.

“Did you know,” I muse with a playful tone that belies the storm of feelings inside me, “you’re the only one who hasn’t filled me up tonight?” His eyes lock onto mine, a mischievous glint meeting my challenging gaze.

“Is that right?” he replies, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a half-smirk. “And what, pray tell, does that mean?”

I lean in closer, until our noses almost touch, inhaling the warm scent of his skin mingled with the steam from the bath. “It means…if I were to get pregnant tonight, I’d want it to be yours. So you should probably come inside me, huh?”

The air seems to still around us, the significance of my words hanging heavy. Gunnar doesn’t respond with words; instead, he lifts his hips, pressing upward in silent acceptance of my invitation.

“Be gentle,” I whisper, lowering myself onto him. He nods, his movements restrained, tender, as if understanding the gravity behind every motion.

His hands find my hips, steadying me as I take him in fully, an intimate dance of give and take. I savor the moment, the connection that deepens with each shared breath, each slow rock of our bodies in the warm water. This is more than just desire—it’s a promise, a hope for the future, no matter how uncertain it may be.

In the gentle churn of water, our movements synchronize in a delicate ballet. Gunnar’s hands are firm on my hips, guiding me as we find a rhythm that is both soothing and arousing. I lean back slightly, allowing his lips to graze the soft flesh of my breasts. Each kiss is a whispered vow, each touch a building block of the dream blossoming within me.

The reality outside our sanctuary fades away, and my mind drifts to images of what could be—a child borne of love and pack bonds, raised by fierce protectors and nurtured by communal strength. I imagine Gunnar, with his unwavering resolve, cradling our baby, teaching them the ways of our world. And around us, the pack—each member ready to give their all for one another. Every man, possibly even Nero in his unpredictable way, has the capacity for tenderness that a child would need.

Lost in the fantasy, a wave of pleasure builds from deep within me. As if sensing my impending release, Gunnar’s grip tightens, his movements more purposeful now, carrying me closer to the edge.

With a shudder, I let go, waves of ecstasy crashing over me, my body pulsing around him.

Gunnar follows soon after, his own orgasm overtaking him with a low growl that vibrates against my skin. We lock eyes, and in that moment, there’s an unspoken understanding between us. The future may be fraught with danger, but it’s ours to shape.

I collapse onto his chest, feeling his heartbeat against my cheek. “I love you,” I murmur, the words slipping out naturally, filled with the weight of everything we’ve shared and everything yet to come. He wraps his arms around me, holding me close, his silence speaking volumes.

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