Page 12 of Bombshell

I shot him an incredulous look. “And how do you know that? The maternal death rate for human mothers of halflings is one in three.”

And maybe even more than that statistic. That was just what was reported.

As soon as the internet was invented and records started to be digitized I’d researched it until my eyes nearly bled. I wanted to know if what happened to my mother was common only to find that it unfortunately was the usual outcome.

But my case was special—unique—my father had called it. I was the product of magic in its purest form. He’d explained it all to me in ridiculous detail when I was twelve. Most little girls got the birds and the bees when they learned about sex. I got the birds, the bees, and the lady trees who die because they agree to be a part of a magical experiment.

Nymphs didn’t reproduce the way humanoids did. They created saplings that they poured their own version of magic into until a new nymph was created. My mother was the first nymph in known history to actually become pregnant and gestate infant me to full term thanks to a mix of her magic and my father’s. Then she died before she ever even got to hold me.

Most sane people considered me an abomination, an affront to the natural order of things. Alexander insisted I was born out of love and the desire for them to have a child, but how much could he have loved her if he was willing to let her die that way?

I would never let Dallan die that way.

Jerking back from the thought like it was a hot stove that had just burnt me, I turned back to the man in front of me.

Dallan, oblivious to my inner ramblings, continued to try and calm me down. “Yes, but they have us. Witches have beenknown in the past to help alleviate pregnancy symptoms for human women. Daphne said she feels fine and she’s already in her third month, so maybe it won’t be that bad.”

“Have you ever evenseena gargoyle halfling before, Dallan? In all your years?”

Dallan pursed his lips, probably trying to remember, before shaking his head. “But you know that they tend to keep to themselves, Lass, so if they have halflings they probably wouldn’t tell us.”

“And they won’t even speak to Cash even if he wanted to try and get information.”

Kicking the blankets away from my legs I got up from the bed to start pacing, mentally pulling my vines back until they disappeared back under my shirt.

I was in full blown crisis mode, thinking of all of the ways that Daphne’s unborn child could potentially end her new, happy life. The new happy life she’djustgotten to have.

Gods, this was going to be worse when Renaissance ripped her way out of Bella’s stomach in Twilight. I’d secretly read all four books when they came out years ago, though I’d never admit it to any of the guys who worked at the shop. While the author fundamentally misunderstood vamps, she sure got the halfling trauma right.

As a fellow hell-spawn, I felt for Renewal, but at the same time she got to keep her mom in the end.

Damn Cash and his virile gargoyle juices. I didn’t think it waspossiblefor a human and a supe to get pregnant that fast,but then again, Cash was the only gargoyle that I knew very well and it wasn’t like he’d gone around boinking everything that moved—at least not until Daphne came along. Then they wouldn’tstophaving sex… hence the stone bun in Daphne’s very much not so stone oven.

“Effie,” Dallan’s voice came from behind me but I ignored him as I continued to do laps around my bedroom, my mind starting to spiral again.

No, if anyone was going to get someone pregnant at Monstrous Ink, my money would have been on Fiero. The satyr screwed anything that moved and I was pretty sure that, statistically, it had to happen at some point and yet there weren’t any little goat-legged children running around at all.

DamnCash and his super sperm, I thought again with a hard shake of my head.

“Effie,” Dallan tried again, this time moving directly into my path, his expression worried as I veered around him.

There was only one person within a thousand mile radius who would know how to handle this situation. That had handled this kind of situation before. Granted, he ended up with a dead nymph wife, but Daphne’s pregnancy should be a piece of cake compared to using magic to conceive a half-nymph, half-witch, all bitch child like me.

I just needed to figure out how to get him to do it without signing away all of the freedom that I’d gained fifty years ago—even if it took me getting booted from the coven to do it.

“Euphemia.” Dallan’s hands gripped my arms tightly but not hard enough to hurt as he stopped me in my tracks and brought me back to the present.

“Sorry,” I apologized, a little dazed as I gestured to my head. “The mind squirrels were going nuts.”

Dallan sighed and pulled me into his arms, and despite knowing it was a bad idea, I inhaled his salt-air scent deep into my lungs and let it soothe the nervous jitters that were trembling through my body. I hadn’t realized how much I was shaking—practically vibrating—until Dallan had stopped me.

“You’re not going to give any of your freedom away to that man,” Dallan said, his lips in my hair as his tentacles tickled my cheek.

I stiffened. “Did I say that part out loud?”

“Yes. You did.”

“How much of it did you hear?” I hated when my inside thoughts suddenly decided to spill out of my lips without me realizing it and became outside thoughts. It usually got me in trouble with clients because they sometimes said the dumbest shit, but it was almost worse when I let it happen mid-freak out. Too much vulnerability for me to share and it was usually Dallan who heard it, making it even worse.

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