Whose child is this

“Come on, don’t be afraid.” He smiled earnestly, reassuring me. “Everything will be fine.” His tone was innocent.

“No, I don’t think so—unless you let go of my neck—”

“Oops, sorry…” He untied his claw as if nothing had happened and smoldered at me.

“Whose child is this?” He asked darkly and ominously. A cold claw, slipped into my nightdress, stopped on my tight and flat lower belly. I shivered.