“We,” Cress whispered, moving in while staring at her lips, “shall have—” he tilted her chin up so their mouths were almost touching “—seventeen childlings.” Heat filled Kate’s stomach, and she tore back. “What?” “Fine. Sixteen,” he said. “But I won’t negotiate for less than that. My powerful bloodline must be carried on.” He smiled, but not quite in the way that assured her he was joking, more in the way like he was imagining seventeen pointy-eared children running through the café.
hahahahaha
