She stayed very still. It surprised me as much as it did her. I’m not sure what had gotten into me.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I nodded. “I think you should sleep in my room. My bed is more comfortable. As the baby grows, you will need more room.”
“Do you mean as I get fatter?” She teased.
Chuckling, I threw my hands up in surrender. It was nice to see her smile.
“Can I ask you something?” she said quietly.
I nodded, waiting.
“Do we always have to kill people and eat them?” Her face turned a shade of green as she asked the question.
I hesitated. “It is how I was raised. I am a hunter; they are my prey.” I shrugged at her.
She looked so indecisive, finally she just said what she wanted to. “Please don’t make me eat human meat. I will do anything else you want without argument, just please don’t make me eat it.”
I thought about it. It was how I grew up. I honestly didn’t care what she ate, as long as she didn’t kill my child.
“Fine, but you have to help me process the meat.”
“Thank you so much,” she squealed, “anything you want – wait – did you say process?”
I smiled.
“You mean?”
I nodded again. For a minute I thought she was going to pass out. But she stood her ground.
Marseille
He wasn’t joking. He took me right away to his shed. Turns out it was refrigerated. Giving me different pieces of meat to put through a grinder, I kept telling myself it was beef. Honestly, as gross as it was, it really did look like beef.
This was our routine through the next seven months. We worked side by side in the cabin and in the shed.
Every night he fucked me from behind, but always made sure I had an orgasm.
At the end of my seventh month, I refused to get out of bed. That earned me for the second time in my life, a night in the dog house.
I was so large and miserable, I didn’t care. Something was wrong, but I didn’t dare tell him that. He would blame me. I knew he cared about this child, but when it came to me, he didn’t care if I lived or died.
Havoc
She was acting strange. She was so beautiful with her swollen belly. I was so pissed when she refused to move, that putting her in the box was kinder than knocking her on her ass.
I needed to get her out of it. I didn’t want her to squish the poor kid’s head. She looked really weary.
I had to lift her out, she had no strength. As I lifted her up, fluid splashed all over me. Quirking my eyebrow up at her, she burst into tears.
“Havoc it’s too soon.”
Fuck. Her water broke. I thought she pissed on me. “What do I do?”
“Lay me on my mattress.” She panted.
I laid her down. Ran in the bathroom to grab her some washcloths to put on her face.
She screamed in pain as a contraction ripped through her. Blood hemorrhaged out of her. “Havoc!” She screamed.
I spread her legs apart to see a tuft of hair coming out of her vagina. We had watched videos on home delivery so we were prepared. Using my fingers, I instructed her to let me know when the next contraction was so she could push.
She gasped really loud, so I instructed her to push as I used my fingers to stretch the skin around his head.
She was crying, took another deep breath, then started bearing down again. I was able to pull him out and wedge his shoulders out. “One more big push.” I instructed.
She grunted, pushing hard. He came out with a large squawk after I wiped his little mouth out.
I clamped the cord, then cut it. Swaddling him up, I was enamored at my little man. How on earth could anyone be so perfect.
Marseille
Something was wrong. The pain was worse than before.
I mentioned the pain to him when he tried to put the infant on my chest.
“Marseille stop fucking playing and feed my son. There is nothing wrong with you. You had a baby. Like a million other women in this country.”
He was disgusted but I was getting weaker by the moment. The pain was excruciating. I explained there was something else still inside of me.
As my vision started to fade, the last thing I saw was the look of disappointment on his face.
Chapter Ten
Havoc
Marseille’s skin was turning grey. The infant was screaming. I needed to do something. Either call for help, or kill them both. Oddly, the thought of killing her, pained me.
Picking up the satellite phone, I dialed one of the three phone numbers that was programmed in it.
Chase answered on the second ring. “Well if it isn’t the disappearing prodigal son,” he razzed.
He and his brother, Perch, were raised with me as cousins. Their father and my father were in the same military unit.
“I need your help,” I started. Then I explained the whole situation, from the birth, which seemed seemingly healthy, to the rest of the day when she went downhill.
Chase started laughing. I pulled the phone away from my ear. Was he really fucking finding this funny? Did he want me to skin him alive? Squeezing the phone so tight, I heard a crack, I made myself calm down.
None of that was helping Marseille.
“Look, I don’t have time for your bullshit. Will you come help her or not?” I was getting worried he may not.
He had a medical degree which was supposed to take care of us if we were injured. Perch went to law school, in case we needed legal help and to find out research on our prey, and I, well I followed in our father’s footsteps and learned how to track, chase, and kill by the good ole US of A.
“I'm already on my way,” he grunted, “but
