Page 97 of Bellamy

“You’re defending him.”

“Defending? No.” He placed the cup on the kitchen counter. “But I can feel how strong your bond is with him. You two were, and still are, inevitable.”

I huffed. It was all Icoulddo. Because I was a stubborn bastard and didn’t want to stroke his ego by saying he was right.

“The threads of fate can stretch in different directions, but I firmly believe they all lead to the same place,” Alastair continued. “One way or another, either with Phoenix or without him, I think we’d still be here, our mansion destroyed and the sword in Asa’s hands.”

“I wish you’d had that mentality the day you tried to kill Phoenix,” I said, remembering that day in the basement when I’d fought against his direct order. “That shit was traumatizing.”

“You have my apologies for that.” His tone was softer than before. “However, me threatening his life is what drove you to fully embrace him as your mate. The thought of losing him was crippling.”

“So you want me to thank you?”

“Of course not.” Alastair sighed. “I admit my actions that day were not my best. Yet, the result played in your favor. It brought the two of you closer.”

“Pride tries to flip any situation to make himself look like the good guy, doesn’t he?” I blew out a short laugh.

Alastair pressed his lips into a thin line.

Mason entered the kitchen with Gray latched onto him from the front, arms around Mason’s neck and his legs dangling down.

“Hi,” Gray greeted us in the world’s saddest voice. “Dino-Pete’s been dead for three days.”

We had gone to the mansion the day after the fire to see if there was anything salvageable from the debris. There hadn’t been. We had lost everything apart from our weapons. Our cars were untouched, since they’d been in a garage separate from the mansion. A small blessing. But Alastair’s first-edition books and prized collections, all of the things we’d collected over the years, some holding great sentimental value, like the violin Joseph had bought Alastair one year for Christmas, had been reduced to ashes.

Dino-Pete, the antique glass dick-o-saurus Gray had grown attached to, had been among the casualties. He wasn’t handling it well.

“I’ll buy you another one,” Mason said, cupping the back of Gray’s tousled blond hair.

Gray hid his face against his shirt. “There’s only one Dino-Pete.”

“Ah, Smalls.” Raiden walked into the kitchen, adjusting his backward hat. “Let me cook ya somethin’. That’ll make you feel better.”

Gray rubbed at his eyes. “Waffles?”

Mason softly smiled.

“You got it.” Raiden had learned his way around Clara’s kitchen, so he made quick work of gathering the necessary ingredients, mixing bowls, and waffle iron.

“Mason?” Gray nuzzled his collarbone. “Will you really get me another dino-dick?”

The hunter chuckled. “Anything you want, angel.”

“I want an army of them.”

Shaking my head at Gray, I left the kitchen and pulled my phone from my back pocket to text Daman.

Me:Hey, bitch.

Daman:Love you too.

I laughed.

Me:How are things in ice dragon country? Freezing your nuts off yet?

Instead of responding to my text, he called me.

“What’s going on, B?” Daman asked after I accepted the call. “You’re not one for small talk.”