“You don’t know the urges I fight every day, Tess.”

“No, and you don’t know mine. If you did, there is no way you could believe such filth.”

We breathed hard, glowering at each other. I wanted to hit him; to try and strike some sense into that thick skull. Instead, I did my best to keep my temper in check.

Inhaling deeply, I whispered, “You have to stop torturing yourself. All of that is ludicrous. You’re insane to believe that.”

“Don’t deny that I’m not a good person, Tess. The things I’ve done—”

I bared my teeth. “Whatever badness lives inside you, Q, is far outweighed by the good. And if you’re blaming yourself based on our choice to add pain to our pleasure, stop that right now. I ask for that. I live for that. I love you because of that.”

He shook his head. “That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

I hated to see him so tortured. “If you’re saying I want a child… then yes, I do. I love the thought of a son who looks like you. But I also don’t cry myself to sleep at night thinking I’ll never be complete without one. I am complete. You make me complete.” My hand landed on his chest, his wild heartbeats drumming in my fingertips. “Don’t destroy yourself with those thoughts. What we have together—the violent love we share—it isn’t just you who indulges. I’m a full participant. Besides, that isn’t the reason why we aren’t getting pregnant—”

“Oh? Why else would it fucking be? Am I sterile then? Am I the one to blame for that, too?”

“No!” My heart matched his as I cupped his cheek. “You’re never to blame. Never, do you hear me? You said it yourself, it’s only been two months. That’s nothing in the scheme of things. We’ll get tested…find out why and go from there.”

He lied to me for two months. He’d been living with these nonsensical thoughts, falling deeper and deeper into their falsehoods.

I wish he’d talked to me sooner. Perhaps then he wouldn’t be such a foolish man believing in preposterous notions that he was the one to blame because of his desires.

How anyone could think that was beyond me. But this was Q. He’d sent me back to Brax because of the same reason. The reason hidden beneath his self-hatred, doubts, and guilt.

That he’ll never be pure enough to deserve me, our love…a family.

“Tests?” He reared back. “No.”

The thought of doctors prodding and invasive examinations wasn’t something I was keen to do, but if he wanted a family as much as he said he did, then that was what had to happen.

Something switched in him, shedding the fight and becoming sharp with conviction. His face contorted, his drunken haze granting fake lucidity. “I have a better idea.”

“Oh?”

“All our years together, we’ve given into the inner-most urges. When we fuck, it’s intense and almost life threatening with how deep we go. Your body is too focused on staying alive to let the natural progression of whatever it is that makes you pregnant.”  He grabbed me by the back of the nape. “I want to try something different. I want to make love to you, Tess.”

What is he talking about?

“You do. Every time we’re together.” Doesn’t he know that love drenches his every touch? “You do make love to me, Q.”

He chuckled. “No, I make war with you. I fuck you. I adore you. I ruin you. For too long I’ve been weak, thinking I couldn’t change who I was. I need to pay a toll or find redemption…something to make me a better person.”

Ugh, I can’t get through to him like this.

I was stubborn. But Q was a concrete wall. If he believed these daft ideas, it would take days, possibly weeks to refute them and change his mind. However, it was possible. I’d done it before when I returned to him. I would do it again.

My heart galloped around my ribcage. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. None of that makes sense. You’re being absurd.”

“Absurd?” His face blackened. “You think I’m absurd when I share my innermost fears? That it’s okay to roll your eyes and laugh at me? Fuck, Tess. I can’t rationalize the way I feel. I know how moronic it sounds. But I need to do this. I have to try. Otherwise, I’ll hate myself more than I already do.”

I sucked in a breath. “You don’t mean that.”

“Je déteste ne pas être un homme meilleur. Oui.” I hate that I’m not a better man. Yes.

“Take that back, Q.”

He sighed heavily, reaching out to touch me. “Tess, please, don’t judge. You’ve let me do all manner of shit to you. The one time I ask to worship you and you fight me.” His head bowed. “Please don’t fucking fight me.”

I didn’t know how to take this. What is he saying? How had he twisted himself into so many unfathomable knots?

Courage whined from his place on the rug, interrupting our heavy argument. Taking a deep breath, I truly studied Q. His face was drawn with dark angles. His eyes haunted and lost. If he fully believed in such silly things, who was I to belittle them? The only way to prove he was wrong. To remind him he was a wonderful, selfless man was to give in.

For just a little while.

Moving closer to him, I murmured. “If you need to do whatever it is you’re saying, I won’t say no. However, I don’t believe it has anything to do with—”