Scout’s POV
"Your womb is empty because you choose to sleep like strangers," Paisley said.
Nixon slammed his wine glass onto the mahogany table. Red liquid sloshed over the rim, staining the white linen like fresh blood. "Mother. Drop it."
"Drop what?" Paisley tilted her head, her pale eyes blinking with fake innocence. "You are mated. The pack knows it. The elders know it. It is a perfectly normal question for a mother to ask her only son."
"There is nothing normal about this conversation," Nixon said. His jaw clumped tightly, the muscles in his cheek twitching as he stared at her. "Not right now."
"Then tell me the right calendar date," she said. She leaned forward, the thin gold chains around her neck clicking against her collarbone. "Should I wait a year? Two years? I would prefer
