Because though she had tried not to, Sammi had fallen in love with her boss. And there was nothing she could do to take the emotion back.
Thirty-Four
Roark knew he was going too far but he seemed helpless to stop himself. It was just that he wanted Samantha so damn much…but he couldn’t Claim her. So he was doing everything in his power to make her his without taking the final step, which he knew would lead to tragedy and heartbreak, just as it had with Amanda.
Including using his own seed in every phallus he fucked her with.
Roark told himself what he was doing was harmless. After all, he knew he was infertile. His sperm were completely immobile and nonviable—incapable of seeking an egg or fertilizing it, even if they found one. So it couldn’t hurt to inject Samantha with his seed during every fucking session.
It was a way of marking her as his own—warning off any other male who might come near her. His scent was all over her and even though Samantha herself couldn’t smell it, since it was mostly pheromones, another Kindred male would be very aware that she was off limits.
That was how Roark justified himself and his actions—he told himself nothing would come of them. In the meantime, he and Samantha kept getting closer and closer. Roark hadn’t asked her to move into his suite—yet—but he was thinking about it. They already spent more time together than apart, eating dinner together most nights and often sleeping in each other’s arms.
Roark loved the feeling of her sweet, curvy body pressed against his, loved cleaning her with his tongue after every fucking session and cradling her in his arms after especially intense sessions.
Samantha seemed willing and eager to submit to any scenario he could think of, though she often needed tenderness and reassurance afterwards. It was as though having put herself in a vulnerable place, she needed to be cuddled and cared for afterwards.
Roark loved this “aftercare” part of their relationship, as Samantha called it. He loved the fact that she was willing to be so open for him and anything he wanted to try. He just wished he could return the favor. But every time he thought of trying to Claim her, his past rose up like a brick wall in front of him, blocking the attempt.
It was an impassible barrier and Roark simply couldn’t get over it. He thought that he and Samantha might simply continue on as they were indefinitely—in a state of constant almost-Claiming that never quite culminated in the real thing.
But that was when everything changed…
Thirty-Five
“Sammi, are you okay? You look positively pale.” Meg looked anxiously at her as she sipped her coffee. The two of them had decided to meet for an early breakfast before Sammi had to be in the lab.
They were sitting in Meg’s food prep area and her friend had made scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast with raspberry jelly, which was usually Sammi’s favorite. But this morning the smell of the eggs was somehow nauseating and the red lumps of jelly on the golden-brown toast reminded her of blood clots. Ugh!
She didn’t want to hurt her friend’s feelings, so Sammi had been pushing the eggs around her plate and tearing the bacon into tiny pieces without actually eating any of it. The toast with its disgusting jelly, she couldn’t bear to touch at all, however.
“I mean it, hon—you don’t look so good,” Meg told her. “You haven’t even touched your breakfast and this is usually your favorite.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” Sammi said apologetically. “I’m just a little queasy this morning. But it’ll pass—it always does.”
Meg frowned.
“What do you mean, ‘it always does’?”
“Oh, well…” Sammi picked up her mug of mint tea—which she had requested specifically to calm her rolling stomach—and took a sip to buy some time. But when she put the mug down, Meg was still staring at her expectantly.
“Sammi,” she said, “Have you been getting sick a lot in the mornings?”
“Well…yes.” Sammi shrugged uneasily. “But only for the past week or so. It happens after I first wake up—I feel sick to my stomach for a little while. But it usually passes by the time I get to the lab.”
“Sick every morning, huh?” Meg cocked an eyebrow at her. “And that doesn’t make you worried or suspicious?”
“Why should it?” Sammi tried to make her voice light and failed. “I mean, it’s probably just some kind of delayed reaction to moving to a whole different ecosystem—the Mother Ship, you know. It’s a lot different from Earth. Maybe I’m reacting to it.”
“I think a much likelier explanation is that you’re reacting to Commander Roark,” Meg said frankly. “Come on, Sammi—you two are a couple now, right? I mean, he has Claimed you—hasn’t he?”
“No he hasn’t!” Sammi denied hastily. “I mean…I kind of wish he would,” she added in a low voice. “But he…doesn’t seem to think it’s in the cards for us to be together as more than just boss and assistant.”