Page 37 of Firedrake Betrayal
This is not the first time since we left New York that I’ve had that same thought. I shake it away before it can take root.
“He saved me from the compound,” I remind Patten.
Patten’s eyes narrow as they flick from me to Dominik. “And he kidnapped you after. Didn’t he?”
There’s no response to a question that won’t end in Dominik’s death.
In the silence, the driver piles bag after bag beside the front door. “Was there anything else, Mr. Alarik?”
“Did he take you shopping?” Isaiah’s voice is strange.
“Yes, but that isn’t important,” I say.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Dominik pull a bundle of notes from his pocket and pass them to the driver. “I’ll call you if I need your services again.”
The driver nods at me. “Mrs. Alarik.”
Patten sucks in a breath, and I swear Shep growls.
“It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay, but it will be. It would be wrong to kill him.” I ignore how killing him would be the easiest way of ridding myself of this bond tying us together.
“That would depend on if he hurt you,” Shep rumbles as he moves even closer, his hands flexing when he forms them into fists.
The driver backs out, slamming the door shut behind him.
Smart.
If Dominik hadn’t done so much to make me feel safe in the compound, it would be very easy—convenient, even—to take a step out of the way and let Patten strangle him, like he so clearly wants to.
I don’t trust Dominik, but I can’t forget his kindnesses when I was so afraid.
He helped me escape from Atticus Chira when he could have run himself. Regardless of his reasons, I’m alive because of him. I can’t let Patten or Shep kill him.
“Move, Jade,” Patten quietly orders me.
“No, you can’t kill him,” I plead.
“Hekidnappedyou.” Shep prowls closer, his eyes flaring a bright wolf gold. “He won’t suffer for long.”
“Why did he take you shopping?” Isaiah is pale as he stands at the dining table, his dark gaze fixed on the suitcases. “Was it an attempt to bribe you for something else he did?”
“No. I… I…” What to say?
What the hell do I say?
Claws emerge from the tips of Shep’s fingers.
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out and then wince.
Silence.
Why do I feel like that was the wrong thing to say?
Everyone stares at me, surprised. But not Shep. He nods once. “You smelled different.”
It takes everything I have not to sniff my armpit. I showered back in New York, but it was a couple hours ago now, and I’ve been stress sweating ever since.
“Bad?” I clamp my arms by my side to prevent anyone else from getting a whiff.
