Breath ragged, voice cracking, she loosened her dress, whispering into his ear. "We've taken many children in. Should we... make our own?"
The words travelled into Adam's ears, overpowering the drumming of his heart. His mind blurred—desire, love, and longing for his own family painted bright pictures. A little princess running across the palace, leaping onto his shoulders with soft giggles.
And then, the image solidified before him. Misha's perfect charms, her slightly pulled dress that showed just enough for his blood to sear his muscles, but not enough to turn him into a wolf ready to pounce.
'Get a grip on yourself, fool!'
Fending off the passion, he focused on the consequences. Could he build a family in the middle of a foreign realm, where enemies, each more powerful than the last, surrounded him? Would he have time to raise it?
