The Sentinels [m]y love is a lifetaker

He nodded jerkily at her assertion. He had belonged with them. He'd hoped that having a wife of his own would allow him leeway to be closer with them. To join their family as a man, as an equal. But he understood now that his love for Chakliux had been at war with his pride, and he had allowed the wrong side to win.

He should have stayed. In love and humility, he should have stayed.

"I'm ready," he said at once, his words sure and strong. He was more than ready — he felt an aching need to claim her, both in his spirit and in his physical body. When she was fat with his children, maybe he would be able to breathe again. Maybe then his own stomach would stop churning with hate for all the time that they'd spent apart, and all the intervening bodies that still marked them in silent, invisible ways.

"As soon as you are," he amended, shutting his eyes so that she would not see his desperation, the way he wanted to plead again for her to let him cover her. "I want our family."