Chosen Mates, Stolen Fates
Tiny, shaped like a bean, but with a barely, distinguishable head and floating white like an amoeba in an ocean of black.
Jesamine had frozen, unable to make a sound. I noticed for the first time she hadn’t spoken in the last few minutes, transfixed by the screen.
“What is it?” I asked, nearly breathless, captivated.
“It’s a baby,” Jesamine said, her sudden fixation broken. Her voice, for some reason irritated, cut through my awe like nails on a chalkboard.
“It’s too early to tell,” Jennivah answered, taking my meaning. “We should know in a few weeks. Do you know what you want?”
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