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Did having a mate, even though he was gay, mean he couldn’t be forced to breed again? Was that how Bae had got out of it?
    The baby cried out again and Jihu sobbed as quietly as he could right along with his son. He lay down and curled around the tiny body, tenderly rubbing the hard little belly. Jihu felt around for the bottle. It’d fallen somewhere, on the bed, off it, he didn’t know. His world was reduced to the screaming of a newborn and the fear and sorrow smothering any embers of hope he’d felt.
    “Here, let me help, please.”
    Jihu cracked open eyes he hadn’t known he’d closed and saw a blurry shape in front of him. He didn’t even have the strength to move just then, and the soothing voice discouraged him from doing so.
    “It’s all right, I won’t hurt either of you. Please don’t cry.”
    Jihu sniffled and rubbed at his nose. He thought Gilbert—he recognised the cognac-smooth voice—was talking to the babe then, but a big, warm hand landed on his back, rubbing gently. It’d been longer than he could remember since he’d been touched in any way other than force. Jihu flinched and started to roll away until he realised Gilbert was picking up his son.
    “No!” Jihu shot up and promptly swayed, dizzy from rising too quickly and who knew what else.
    “It’s okay, dude, I promise,” Gilbert murmured, touching his shoulder. “This little guy here needs to be fed, and you’re freaking out. Just, try to stop, okay? It scares him.”
    Jihu blinked back more tears and Gilbert came into focus. His first thought was, the man was huge. Jihu was only five-five, and Gilbert had to be close to a foot taller, he couldn’t tell for sure. And muscle? Gilbert had his fair share and more, while Jihu was barely more than skin and bones. Jihu found himself held still by Gilbert’s stunning brown-flecked green eyes. Thickly lashed and wide, they seemed to allow Jihu to peer right into Gilbert’s soul.
    What he imagined he saw there was a tenderness, aneed, and Jihu wished he trusted himself, and Gilbert, enough to believe it. If only he had his senses back, sharp as they had been, he might be able to trust what he felt.
    “Look at this little guy, he’s sucking away at his bottle.” Gilbert smiled tenderly at the baby and brushed at his thick black hair. “Yeah, you’re a handsome dude, aren’t ya? Good thing my older sister has kids or else I wouldn’t know how to hold you, even. Be scared to, because you, little dude, are just that—little.”
    Jihu was as entranced by Gilbert and his voice as the baby seemed to be. He leaned closer and stopped simpering, which was what he felt like he was doing. Acting the part of the small, helpless damsel in distress. Hell’s bells, even a damsel in distress probably manned up better than he did. Jihu sat up and used the tail of his shirt to wipe his face. It wasn’t as gross as not wiping his face off.
    “Who?” Gilbert growled, sending a series of icy shivers down Jihu’s spine. “Who hurt you? I thought you were just blotchy from crying, but those are bruises.”
    Jihu knew he must be coming off like a total idiot, gaping and snivelling and…and cowering. He stiffened from head to toe—well, his dick was already stiff, but that part of him was acting bizarre anyway—and held his head up high, almost daring Gilbert to call him out on being a wuss.
    But Gilbert only used the hand he’d been stroking the baby’s hair with to reach over and touch a spot on Jihu’s cheek that made him hiss. “Yeah, tell me who hurt you and I’ll rip their guts out for you.”
    Jihu’s temper spiked and he gave the most evil look he could manage. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.” Even if he obviously couldn’t fight them very well himself.
    Gilbert nodded and rubbed his thumb over that spot again. “Okay, I shouldn’t assume just because you look like the rough end of a bad night that you weren’t the winner.” He turned his attention back to