Page 31 of A Cobbled Conspiracy
“We’re never being separated like that again,” I said fiercely, pressing a kiss to his chest.
“Never,” he agreed, the word muffled against my hair. “I’d kill before I let anyone take you from me again.”
The possessive edge to his voice should have concerned me, but instead it made me feel safe. Protected. Cherished.
I thought about the investigation board covered in red string, about all the dangers still lurking around the edges of our happiness. And I thought about the secret growing inside me, the confirmation I’d received from Dr. Westfield.
The pregnancy I’d been keeping secret, waiting for the right moment to share.
“Whatever comes next,” I said. “We’ll face it together.”
He smiled, the first truly relaxed expression I’d seen from him since his arrest. “Together,” he agreed, and sealed the promise with a kiss.
But as we lay in my nest, surrounded by the scent of our reunion and the soft fabrics that had comforted me during his absence, I knew the time to tell him about the baby was coming soon.
The knowledge sat warm in my chest—no longer uncertain, no longer just suspected, but confirmed and growing stronger each day.
Our baby.
Our baby that was conceived during my heat cycle, when Dominic had gone into rut and we’d spent three days lost in biological imperative.
A small part of me knew it was fear keeping me silent.
I didn’t even know if Dominic wanted kids, or if he’d planned on having them someday, or if the idea of becoming a father during all this chaos would terrify him.
For now, though, I was content to lie in his arms and feel complete for the first time in five weeks. We both needed time to readjust before I added the emotional weight of unexpected parenthood.
The revelation could wait a little longer. We had time.
We had forever.
CHAPTER NINE
Iwoke to the soft sound of Dominic’s breathing and the unfamiliar weight of contentment in my chest. The constant ache of the stressed bond had quieted, replaced by the solid warmth of my mate’s body curved around mine.
The nest was a chaos of pillows and blankets, evidence of the desperate reunion that had consumed most of the night. How many times had we made love? Three? Four? I’d lost count somewhere between taking him deep while he gripped the sheets and fought his alpha instincts to flip me over and dominate, and the slow, tender coupling that followed when exhaustion had nearly claimed him mid-kiss. Each time, I’d led our joining, taking what we both needed while he surrendered control, letting me take care of him, letting me reclaim him.
Even now, his arm tightened around my waist as if his sleeping body sensed any potential separation. His face, relaxed in sleep, showed traces of the man I’d fallen for—sharp cheekbones softened by contentment, the stubborn line of his jaw eased. But weeks of incarceration and bond stress had left its marks. He was thinner, shadows beneath his eyes that spoke of sleeplessnights. The wariness never fully left his expression, even in sleep.
I carefully extracted myself from his embrace, moving slowly to avoid waking him. He needed rest more than he needed my presence right now. His body had been running on adrenaline and the need to reassert our bond since his release, but now we were safely reunited, and he needed sleep.
I gathered my scattered clothes from the floor—or rather, what I could find of them. My shirt had somehow ended up tangled in the sheets, and I wasn’t sure where my underwear had disappeared to. With an huff, I tossed my jeans onto the back of the vanity’s chair. Instead, I pulled on Dominic’s wrinkled dress shirt from yesterday, the fabric still carrying traces of his pine and cinnamon scent. The shirt hung loose on my frame, the sleeves falling past my wrists. I pulled a pair of my most comfortable soft gray cotton sweatpants from the dresser and tugged them on.
I padded barefoot toward Blake’s kitchen, suddenly aware of a gnawing hunger that felt foreign after weeks of barely managing to keep food down. The nausea that had plagued me since Dominic’s arrest was completely gone, replaced by an appetite that demanded immediate attention.
Blake’s massive stainless steel refrigerator yielded treasures I hadn’t been able to appreciate before—leftover Thai takeout from last night, fresh fruit, expensive cheeses, even some of those fancy yogurts Penny had insisted on buying. I loaded a plate with everything that looked appealing, marveling at how good food smelled again.
“Feeling better?”
I turned to find Blake in the kitchen doorway, already dressed in one of his perfectly pressed shirts despite the early hour. His sharp eyes took in my loaded plate with something that might have been relief.
“Much better,” I said around a bite of pad thai. “God, I was starving. I haven’t eaten like this in weeks.”
Blake moved to his espresso machine, going through the precise ritual of preparing his morning coffee. “Now that you’re reunited, your body’s trying to recover—just don’t overdo it and make yourself sick.”
I nodded and settled onto one of his bar stools, continuing to demolish my impromptu breakfast. “He seems so tired and—just not himself at all. Did something happen to him? Something while he was…?”
Blake’s movements stilled for just a moment before he resumed grinding coffee beans. “You’re asking if something happened that I haven’t told you about.”