Carnal Urges (Queens & Monsters Book 2)
Carnal Urges: Chapter 17

It’s so silent in the room for a moment, I can hear someone’s heart monitor beeping in another room down the hall. Then Sloane says flatly, “That’s impossible. I’ve been on the pill for ten years. You’ve got the wrong person.”

By this time, Nancy is looking extremely uncomfortable. She takes a single step backward toward the door. “Sorry. Maybe I’m mistaken. I’ll just send the doctor back in—”

“Stop.”

Though my tone is deadly soft, it does the trick. Nancy freezes in her tracks, swallowing.

Like the idiot doctor, she also knows who I am. Word gets around fast when a new king ascends the throne. “You ran a pregnancy test with the blood samples taken when she checked in?”

The nurse looks back and forth between me and Sloane, obviously wondering what kind of mess she just stepped into. “Yes. The doctor thought it was prudent considering—”

“No,” interrupts Sloane, her voice loud. “I had my period last month. I’ve taken the pill every day since then. No missed days. I’m very careful. I’m not pregnant.”

“The pill doesn’t have a perfect success rate. And you can get pregnant during your period.”

Sloane says, “And you can get the hell out of my room with that bullshit before I give you two black eyes, Nancy.”

I stand. Nancy skitters back a few steps. I tell her to stop again, and she looks like she’s going to faint.

“Listen, I’m just the messenger. The doctor can give you more information than I can.”

I demand, “What’s the accuracy on those blood tests?”

“Ninety-nine percent.”

Fuck. “And how soon can it detect pregnancy after a missed period?”

“Within days.”

I look at Sloane, red-faced and infuriated on the bed. “Have you missed a period?”

Her lips thin.

“Answer the goddamn question.”

She admits grudgingly, “I was supposed to get it a few days ago. Or right now. My days are all mixed up.”

When I pass a hand over my face, groaning, she insists, “I’m not pregnant! I know my body! Nothing has changed!”

“Typically, you won’t start to feel symptoms until about week five or six.”

Sloane’s look could melt the skin right off poor Nancy’s face. “That’s a lot longer than it will take you to feel the symptoms of the kick I’m about to knock your teeth out with.”

I snap, “Sloane, shut it. Nancy, get out.”

Nancy spins around and runs out. When she’s gone, Sloane turns to me, insistent. “I’m not. I’m not, Declan.”

“Aye. Except it sounds like you are.” Agitated, I start to pace.

“Well then, I’ll just have to deal with it.”

When I whirl on her, bristling, she lifts her brows.

“What’s that look for?”

I growl, “You are not getting an abortion.”

She examines my face in silence for a while. When she finally speaks, her voice is tranquil. “I didn’t say I was. But if I were, it would be none of your damn business.”

I lose my cool and shout, “Of course it’s my business! You’re my fucking captive!”

When her hair settles back around her face, she folds her hands in her lap. “I see you have strong feelings on the subject. I’d like to point out, however, that regardless of how I got to be here, it’s curious that you’d care one way or the other. After all, you’re not the father. Not that there is a father, because I’m not pregnant, but if I were, you wouldn’t be him.”

“Jesus Christ, do you think I’m an imbecile? I know I’m not the bloody father!”

She narrows her eyes. “Exactly. You’re not the father, you’re going to be sending me home soon, and I’ll be out of your hair forever. So what are you getting so excited about?”

I flail around for something that would explain my bizarre emotional turmoil over this news. All I can come up with is, “I don’t believe in abortion.”

“Congratulations. Still not your business.”

I start to pace again. Sloane watches me with eyes as sharp as a hawk’s.

“If you’re thinking that you’re going to keep me chained up in your home indefinitely to block my reproductive rights, I’ll tell you right now that won’t work.”

I wasn’t thinking that, but it does make me curious. “Why not?”

“Kieran and Homer would never let you do that to me.”

I gape at her, astounded. “Spider told you his real name?”

“Of course. Why is that so shocking?”

“He doesn’t tell anyone his real name. I didn’t know it until we’d known each other for more than ten years. And he was only in the room with you for three minutes.”

She gives me a look. “The wee homely camel princess is good at getting dogs to do her bidding, remember?”

When I glare at her, seething, she sighs.

“Can we please not fight? I’ve got a splitting headache, my brain might be about to kill me, and I might be—but I’m not—with child. I don’t have the energy for verbal combat.”

She slumps back against the pillows and pulls the covers over her face.

I pace for a while longer. My mind is the smoking aftermath of a nuclear bomb.

Pregnant. The woman I kidnapped is pregnant with a Bratva baby?

Holy fuck. And I thought things were bad before.

From under the covers, Sloane says, “If I ask you a personal question, will you answer?”

“No.”

Naturally, she ignores that. “Did you have a girlfriend who terminated her pregnancy against your wishes?”

I drop into the chair beside her bed and exhale. “No.”

“Oh. Okay. Sorry, that was none of my business. It’s just that the topic seems like a trigger point for you.”

“If I tell you it’s because I believe all life is sacred, you’ll laugh at me.”

“Of course I’ll laugh at you. Would you like to know why?”

“No.”

“Because you kill people for a living.”

I don’t know why I bother answering her questions. All she does is ignore me. I grumble, “That’s not all I do.”

She flips the covers off her face and stares at me with her brows drawn together. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot extortion, racketeering, gun running, human trafficking—”

“No bloody human trafficking!”

“—drug smuggling, forgery, tax fraud, stock manipulation, corruption of public officials—”

“Where are you getting this information? Google?”

“Are you saying you don’t do those things?”

I say through gritted teeth, “You have no idea what I do, lass.”

“Don’t glower at me. And why are you so upset? I’m the one with the brain damage and the maybe-baby.” Her eyes go wide. “Oh god.”

Alarmed by her expression, I say, “What now?”

“The ketamine you gave me…” She stares at me in horror.

My stomach rolls over. My voice comes out gruff. “It was only one dose. One low dose.”

“It was enough to make me lose my memory. Imagine what it could do to a fetus!”

“That could’ve been the fall.”

She says sarcastically, “The drop, you mean. And it might not have been.”

When I don’t say anything, she covers her eyes with a hand and whimpers.

I stand, take her hand away from her face, and lean over her, gazing down into her worried eyes. “The baby will be fine,” I say with more conviction than I feel. “You’re young, strong, and healthy. You’re both going to be okay.”

I don’t add Unless die from that brain clot, because that would just be rude.

She stares up at me, panicking, but managing to despise me nonetheless. “Declan, if it turns out that this kid that I’m not having has anything less than a genius IQ, I’ll kill you. And I don’t mean that figuratively.”

Bypassing the threat on my life, which I’m sure she’s sincere about, I smile. “Deal.”

“Why are you smiling? I just said I’d kill you!”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t get it.”

“If you want to slit my throat, you must be feeling better.”

She purses her lips, considering me. “It wouldn’t be throat slitting. Too bloody.”

“Gun?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Too messy.”

“Ah, I remember. Something slow and painful involving flesh-eating bacteria.”

She nods. “So I could sit in a chair in the corner and watch as you’re consumed inch by inch over the course of days. No, weeks. Months.” She smiles. “In agony.”

I chuckle. “You actually like that idea. What a little monster. And you look so sweet.”

After an odd pause, her voice comes out tentative. “You think I look sweet?”

“No. I think you look like a camel. You’re revolting.”

We stare into each other’s eyes. I become aware of her breathing, the flush creeping over her cheeks, and that I’ve leaned closer, so close, our noses are only inches apart.

She says softly, “You don’t think I look like a camel.”

I have to moisten my lips before I answer, my mouth is so dry. “A hyena. A warthog. A kakapo.”

“I don’t know that last one.”

“It’s a giant flightless parrot.”

“A parrot? So it’s cute.”

I shake my head slowly, fighting the urge to lean closer and press my mouth to hers. My voice is husky when I answer. “No. It’s disgusting.”

After a moment, she whispers, “Liar.”

She pushes me away and rolls over onto her side again.

I straighten and blow out a slow, silent breath. I pass a hand through my hair. Then I take my cell phone from my pocket and send a text to Spider.

I’m coming there now. Make sure he’s ready to talk.

With one last glance at Sloane, I leave the room, nodding at the armed men in black suits Kieran has installed on either side of the door while I’ve been inside.

I head out for a chat with Stavros.

I wonder if Sloane would ever forgive me if I went back on my word and killed him.

Only one way to find out.

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