GhostWalkers 10 - Samurai Game

mutant organ might not be all human, but it didn’t stop her from falling in love with this man. How could she not? “Are you so certain that you really want me? Have you considered that if he gave me such a heart and the DNA of an animal, that any child we have might be … different?”
    Sam studied her face. There it was. Her real fear. The number one fear. She’d let him see the truth of her and now she’d just exposed the one thing that made her most vulnerable. This was the reason she thought her father didn’t feel she was fit to become a wife. Not the scars. Not the white hair. A child. Her child.
Their
child.
    “Damn it all to hell, Azami,” he said, between his teeth. “Don’t you ever fucking protect me like this again. Hell, woman, I could have had a heart attack at the thought of you leaving me.”
    And wasn’t she good to keep it all out of her mind, hiding her true fear from him, masking it with red herrings. She did feel vulnerable. She did feel all those things she’d told him, but combined, they weren’t enough to send her running, especially when he was making love to her without protection. He hadn’t even considered protection. He planned to marry her as soon as it was possible and having children was part of the program. But he hadn’t asked. He hadn’t discussed it with her.
    Azami moistened her lips, her gaze still locked with his. “You’re angry now.”
    “Damn right, I am. At you. At me for being so dense that I didn’t even discuss children or protection with you.” He shoved a hand through his hair and regarded her flushed face. “Why would you think you couldn’t have a child?”
    She took a breath and let it out. “Whitney said I was useless, a throwaway. What does he want most, Sam? Children. Superbabies. He conducted all sorts of experiments on me and then he threw me away. Doesn’t it stand to reason that he believes I either can’t have a child or that it would be defective?”
    Sam opened his mouth to protest but snapped it closed before anything could escape. This was a big deal to her. A huge deal. Whitney had colored her entire image of herself. He’d parented her in her formative years, those vital years, and he’d treated her as if she wasn’t human. He took away her self-esteem, her worth as a human being. To a woman,at least to Azami, having a child obviously meant something important.
    He took a deep breath, let it out, and pushed away the rage that churned in his gut. Fury at Whitney, that monster who would dehumanize a child so he could use her for experiments, and even more at himself for pushing her so fast because she’d turned his body into a fucking walking hard-on. What he needed to do was defuse the situation and let both of them calm down a little bit and think things through. To Azami, the subject was obviously very emotional and frightening as well as being significant to her. He was sexually frustrated as well as feeling like a complete selfish idiot.
    “Let’s discuss this over tea. I’m not going to be great at it, but you can teach me. I’d like to learn how to properly prepare you a good cup of tea. You drank the tea in the war room, but you didn’t enjoy it. This is an important issue to you, Azami. We need to get it hashed out. Let’s do it over a cup of tea.”
    “It would be your baby too,” she declared. “It should be an important issue to you as well. You’re so willing to be with me and you don’t fully know all the risks.” She ducked her head. “I should have disclosed everything right away, as soon as I knew you were serious.”
    He had said the right thing. The tension drained from her face, and her desperate, vulnerable expression was gone. She had a point. A baby would be his. His child. He had just assumed it wouldn’t matter to her about children, because, although he wanted some, she would always be his first priority. If she couldn’t have them, or didn’t want them, so be it. He turned to lead her out of the room where their combined scents with the oil weren’t so potent. He needed a little relief himself.
    He didn’t want to enjoy the fact that she was there with him, a soft whisper of silk moving through the house he’d built with his own two hands, but he couldn’t deny that just knowing she was with him, arguing or not, gave him greatpleasure. He felt her fingers push into the back pocket of his jeans as she followed him down the hall to the spacious kitchen. He didn’t turn around,