Page 33 of The Devil's Spawn

“I don’t know! I’m sorry, but I did. A lot has happened since that day. You punishing me, starting work with you this week, and then today…”

Oh God. I’d ruined this moment for us. We’d waited so long, and I’d stupidly withheld the news from him, if only for a few hours. But it was long enough for that damn note to spring up and wreak destruction.

“What else, Kayla? What else are you hiding from me?” He towered over me, and I dropped to my knees. Kissed his feet.

“Stop groveling and just tell me.”

Lifting my head, I gazed into his eyes—blue orbs filled with anger and hurt and suspicion. “I’m scared to tell you.”

For so many reasons, the biggest of which lay wrapped in superstition and the echoes of a painful history. We’d gone down this road before, and it hadn’t ended well.

“Jesus, baby. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together.”

“I’m…” I swallowed hard, and maybe it was the speck of tenderness in his expression—the softening of his mouth, and the way he unclenched his hands. The crinkled piece of paper, a souvenir from a painful time that seemed eons ago, floated to the floor, forgotten.

Gage saw my fear, and instead of feeding off it in his usual sadistic way, he empathized. He showed patience and love and even anxiety for what I was about to throw his way. Again.

I’d proven that I was more than capable of letting him down, of wavering when I should stay the course. I kissed his feet once more then smiled up at him through the tears forming in my eyes.

“I’m pregnant.”

16. Heartbeat

The following morning, Gage got me in to see the best obstetrician that money could buy. We sat side-by-side in the waiting room, hands clasped together. He seemed as nervous as I was. The wait to see the doctor wasn’t long, but it seemed to span forever. By the time they called me back, I was sure my blood pressure would rocket through the roof. After the nurse took my vitals and asked a dozen or so questions, she left Gage and me alone with the assurance the doctor would be in shortly.

I hopped onto the table, my ass sliding over the paper, and eyed Gage. He’d unfolded into a chair near the door of the exam room. Between the glaring lights overhead and my lack of sleep the previous night, this whole situation seemed…surreal.

What bothered me most was all the things we hadn’t said. After I’d finally gotten the words out about the pregnancy, Gage had flipped through a plethora of reactions, from shocked to elated to disbelieving to…worried.

And that last one set me on edge the most, possibly because it reflected my own fears. Everything was changing so quickly—within my body and in my marriage. I needed his rock solid presence right now. Hell, I even needed his stringent disciplinary measures. They kept me grounded, and I needed that more than ever.

I’d grown accustomed to bowing to his decisions, to depending on him to keep me in line. But a pregnancy…maybe we’d both underestimated the realities that would come with such a life-changing event.

Deep down, I hadn’t worried about it much because after those first few months, when it became obvious I wasn’t getting pregnant, I hadn’t thought it would be an issue we’d have to face.

Turned out I was wrong.

I glanced up and found him staring at me. “What do you need from me, Kayla?”

That was the last thing I’d expected him to say. “I…I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You tried talking to me last night about what you’d need, should you become pregnant. I could have handled that conversation a lot better. Instead, I jumped to conclusions, and for that I’m truly sorry. So now I’m asking. Tell me what you need.”

I parted my lips, but nothing came out. The best I could do was shrug my shoulders. Problem was, I had no idea what I wanted or needed. My head was still spinning from seeing those two lines yesterday, and the fact that Gage was sitting in that chair, looking so damn lost, just about unhinged me.

“I need you to beyou,” I whispered, my throat constricting. Why was I so upset? Having a baby was a dream come true for us. But neither of us could deny the risks—not with the type of lifestyle we lived and my previous track record with pregnancies.

He rose and crossed to where I sat, legs dangling over the edge of the table. As I drew in a lungful of air, he slid his palms along my cheeks, and it amazed me how gentle he managed to be at times. The tender way he cradled my face was incongruent with his basest self.

“Baby, I’m still the same bastard I was yesterday before you told me. Trust me, there will be times when you wish for more leniency. But damn,” he said, caressing my temples with his thumbs. “This is fucking real. It’s happening, and I want to do right by you, so tell me what you need.”

A breath shuddered from my lips. “I don’t know. I thought I’d want things to change between us, but I…I just want you the way you are.” A large part of meneededto kneel at his feet to feel loved. He cherished me best while on my knees, and I craved that connection with him.

Out of nowhere, tears erupted, and I swiped them away, angry at myself for crying. “I need you to take care of me like you always do. I need the security of being yours.”

“That’s a given, so why am I sensing a ‘but’ in there somewhere?”

Was I clinging to a caveat? I searched within myself and found the perpetual need to be owned by him, but also to have a piece of me that I could call my own. The strikes of his implements wouldn’t quiet it, nor the penetration of my ass—it would fester until I took my last breath because as surely as Gage was a sadist, I was a reluctant slave with a nagging need to be my own damn person at least part of the time.

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