Dominic by Elizabeth Amber

cannot be to you what a husband should. Not ever.”
    A smal , uncharitable spurt of gladness sprouted within her. He was tel ing her his seed could no longer sire children. From her perspective, this
    was something of a gift. Never again would he be able to force another babe into her womb without her consent. Relief, immediately chased by a touch of
    guilt for her selfishness, made it easy to be sympathetic.
    “A loss, to be sure, but we must be grateful that your life was not taken, too. After al , it’s not necessary that we—” She’d taken a few steps toward
    him as she spoke, but his next words had her stal ing in the middle of the room.
    “It damn wel is necessary—I’m part Satyr, for pity’s sake!” he bel owed in outrage. “Dominic understands what this ‘loss’ means to me even if you
    do not!”
    Stil guarding the door, his guest was unabashedly eavesdropping. Was he so obtuse he didn’t know when a married couple required privacy?
    Enough! She rounded on him to request that he leave.
    “Signore, perhaps you wil al ow us to continue our discussion of this matter in seclusion?”
    But Dominic’s emotionless eyes had left her, and he was now staring fixedly at her husband.
    Behind her, Carlo muttered, “He stays.”
    “But why?”
    “Little idiot! Do you care nothing for our unborn child?” he bit out, gesturing toward the swel at her waist. “If I don’t fuck you tonight, it wil die where
    it lies within you!”
    Scandalized by his crude, hurtful words, she was slow to take in their precise meaning.
    “Lust is a vital part of my makeup,” he went on, slamming a fist to his chest. “Fucking has been like breathing to me for al my adult life. Tonight I
    feel sick with the need to mate from dusk to daybreak. The fiendish cruelty of my condition is that though the ability to do so is gone, the drive remains.”
    Emma paled as the true horror of their situation final y dawned on her. “Do you mean to say you cannot function in that way? At all ?”
    “At last she comprehends!” He flung up his hands, bitter laughter erupting from him. “You know the ways of the Satyr. Children bred at Moonful must
    be birthed during the fol owing one. A month’s gestation. Our offspring must enter this world with tomorrow’s sunrise. As the catalyst for a birthing, you
    must first experience the pleasures of tonight’s Cal ing ritual. However, my cock is sadly incapable of entertaining you in the coming hours. Or ever again.”
    He palmed himself graphical y, cupping and grinding his own genitals through his trousers as if he despised what they contained.
    “But there must be some way,” she protested, hugging her middle protectively. “That is, could we summon a physician? Or could we—?”
    Carlo blasted toward her. She backed away from the fury in his face, but she understood the reason for it now. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he
    exerted his strength, pressuring her downward until she sank to the floor to kneel between his legs.
    “Carlo! Our child! You must take care with me!” she cried, clutching for balance.
    Hard fingers dove into her hair to hold her as his other hand wrenched open his trousers.
    Lowering her eyes to the shrouded gap at the front of his trousers, she beheld the true extent of the injuries he’d unveiled. Though he hadn’t loved
    her, his body had always been ready to couple with hers under a ful y waxed moon. But no more. Now his manhood hung shrunken and defeated.
    “Show me how we can make it work,” he bit out. His tone was scathing, as though he despised her. “Take me in your mouth, wife. If you can get a
    rise out of me, I wil gladly fuck you.”
    Emma heard Dominic take a step toward them and then check himself. Apparently he was reluctant to interfere in another man’s way of dealing
    with his dashed dreams.

    Her lashes fluttered lower, and shame rouged her cheeks. “Please. Not in front of him,” she whispered.
    “Do as I say,” Carlo instructed.