“You’re telling me,” I say. “But I don’t understand. Why am I so attracted to him? I don’t want to be.”
Molly caresses my cheek and lays her hand on her stomach. “Well, as far as I understand it, once a woman is pregnant with a mortling, she begins to secrete a pheromone to attract her mate and vice versa.”
“That I understand.” My voice is a touch impatient. “But why?”
“I can see the scientist in you now,” she says with a sparkle in her eye. “To be frank, the males provide a boost of necessary vitamins and minerals that are vital to the baby. A pregnant female and her mate will grow more and more attracted the longer they go without having sex. Think of it as the mort version of prenatal vitamins,” Molly adds brightly.
“You have to be joking.”
“’Fraid not, sugar. I imagine you and Avrell could come up with a way to work around it somehow, but that’s all above my head.” She offers me another candy and I shake my head.
She begins to chatter on about her trip to find something called a rogcow as I mull over what I’ve learned.
I understand biological functions. That doesn’t mean I have to accept them.
And it sure as hell doesn’t mean I’m having sex with Sayer.
I’m pretty sure Jareth would lose his mind if he hasn’t already.
***
I don’t want to talk to him, but I have to. Resigned, I use the armband and hope Avrell isn’t in his office. I scowl when the door whirrs open and Avrell is sitting behind a desk, his short, neat hair a perfect contrast to Sayer’s long locks.
He gets to his feet. “Grace, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Is it the mortyoung?” The worry is etched plainly into his face. It only makes me want to claw it off.
“The baby’s fine. I have some questions if you have the spare time.” Please don’t.
Avrell gestures to the set of chairs in front of his desk. “Of course. Have a seat. Since you’re here, do you mind if I do a quick examination? Check your vitals and the mortling?”
“That’s fine,” I say. I’d been in such a state of shock after I was woken from cryosleep that I didn’t pay complete attention when he’d done the first examination. If I’m going to do this, I may as well know what I’m getting myself into.
“How are you feeling?” he asks as he pulls out a wand about the length of his arm from his elbow to his wrist and gestures for me to hop on an examination table across the room from his desk. The table is surrounded by contraptions and there’s a bank of monitors along the back wall. As he clicks a button on the scanner, one of the monitors blinks to life.
“As well as I can be under the circumstances. That’s actually why I’m here.”
Avrell’s eyes meet mine. They’re different from Sayer’s almost sleepy, doe-eyes. Avrell’s are kind, but sharp and assessing. I can tell from studying them that he’s the type of person to hold back and consider all angles before acting. Despite my outburst and the constant thrum of anger beneath my skin, he and I are a lot alike.
“Oh?” he prompts.
“I’m having some symptoms that Molly explained are a part of pregnancy and I was wondering if you could explain further.”
“Of course. What sort of symptoms?”
“I saw Sayer a little while ago and it was almost like I was in a dream. I couldn’t see or hear anything but him. Jareth was also there, but it was as though we were the only two people in the room. Tell me, Doctor, was Molly correct in saying this was a symptom of pregnancy? My body wants me to have sex with my baby’s father.” The last is said dully as though I’m reciting a piece of boring text.
“That’s correct. I assume Molly explained how the mortling will require—”
“Yes, she made that very clear. And there’s no other way?”
“None that we’ve tested, no.”
I meet his eyes then, but he hurriedly looks back at the scanner he’s holding level with my stomach. He waves it around and an image appears on the monitor. The shape fades in and out of focus until Avrell seems to find what he’s looking for. At first it doesn’t click what I’m looking at, and then I realize I’m looking at my baby.
I’m still reveling at the life on the screen when the doors open. Calix strides in with Emery in his arms. Her face is red and scrunched in pain. I quickly slide off the table so he may set her down.
“What is it?” Avrell demands, jumping into doctor mode.
“Our mortyoung is coming.”
And that’s my cue to leave.
***
I don’t know where I am or what I’m doing, but it doesn’t matter because it feels so good. There are hands on me, pressing and rubbing, soothing and stroking. Nails bite into my skin, not rough, but just enough that I feel the threat of pain on the other side of pleasure.