His smile faded as he flexed his fingers against the steering wheel. “Maybe.”
“Why do you say you hate kids so much when you’re obviously close to your niece?”
He relaxed a little. At least this was a question he could answer with practiced ease. “I don’t hate kids. I just don’t want any of my own.”
“Why?”
Because he didn’t want any child of his going through what he’d been through. And the surest way to ensure that was simply not to have any. “That’s a second question.”
“Given you didn’t actually answer the first properly, I think it should be allowed.”
She was persistent, he had to give her that. But he also had to wonder why. Was she thinking about trying to trap him by becoming pregnant? He stared at her for a moment, trying to gauge whether she was capable of such deception. While he didn’t really think she’d stoop so low, the truth was, beyond the physical, they really didn’t know each other all that well.
God, he’d better keep his wits about him and make damn sure they kept using condoms!
“Because,” he lied, his voice a little sharper than necessary, “a werewolf’s sense of family is all tied up with his heart. I can’t physically love any offspring I might sire on any woman other than the one who captured my heart.”
“Yet you love Janie.”
“But she’s not my get, and I don’t love her in the same way.”
“So what would happen if one of your monthly mates were to get pregnant?”
Tension knotted his gut, and he shot her a glance. “Don’t even think about it, Kat. I like you—a lot—but that’s as far as it goes. I don’t love you, and I certainly couldn’t love any offspring you and I might produce.”
“I’m not thinking about it, believe me.” Her voice was hard, almost bitter. “And that didn’t answer the question.”
He took a deep breath, then blew it out in exasperation. “If I answer this, will you promise to drop the subject for good?”
Her gaze searched his briefly. He wondered what the hell she was searching for.
“Yes,” she said after a moment.
“Good.” He hesitated, steering the car around a sharp bend. They were approaching the cabin where he’d found the zombies, and he slowed, needing to look for a place to park. “If one of my mates got pregnant, I would support them financially, but that’s it. I wouldn’t see them again. Wouldn’t see the kid.”
“But why? That’s what I can’t understand.”
He stopped the car in a stand of trees and turned to face her. “Because it’s never good for a child to see his father treating his mother with utter contempt. And that’s all I’d feel for someone who tried to trap me that way.”
She raised an eyebrow. “If the vehemence behind that statement is anything to go by, you’ve seen something like that happen.”
“Yeah,” he said tightly. “My parents.”
Because his mom had trapped his dad, even though she’d known what he was. What he was capable of. It was a small town and she’d been scared of ending up alone. Better a freak than nothing, she’d once told him.
But their often bitter relationship was another reason he’d been more than happy to leave that place as soon as he could.
For several seconds there was nothing to be seen in Kat’s expression. Nothing beyond curiosity in the emotive swirl that swam between them. That in itself eased some of his tension, and when she smiled, it dissipated even more.
“I was only asking, Ethan, so relax. In a job like mine, I can hardly afford to be carting a kid around.”
Even so, he was going to keep carrying condoms in his jeans pocket. “Good. Because I’d hate to think you’d sink so low.”
“Never fear,” she said, thrusting open the door almost viciously. “I know you’re in it for nothing more than a good time, and I don’t intend to forget it. Or the condoms.”
“Good,” he muttered and climbed out of the car.
And wondered why the thought of her belly fat and round with his child filled him with such fierce and sudden longing.