Page 70 of Danger Close

“How are you feeling?” His voice was a soft purr.

He placed his hand on my forehead, and I shut my eyes, enjoying the soothing feel of his skin against mine.

“No fever,” he concluded. “Headache?”

I shook my head. “No, just… tired.”

My voice croaked, parched. He took a silver pitcher from the nightstand and poured water into a glass.

He leaned down, hugged me to him as he lifted me to a sitting position and fixed the pillows at my back so I could sit up. He leaned me against the headboard, his lips grazing my cheek. He smelled divine. Like coffee, amber, and… cigarettes?

“Have you been smoking?” I croaked when he leaned away, putting a straw in the glass before he brought it to my lips.

“Drink,” he commanded.

I stared at him, shutting my lips.

I tilted my head and lifted a brow, waiting for him to answer my question. He rolled his eyes.

“Stubborn woman.” He chewed on his bottom lip. “I have mostly quit smoking since… well…”

“Since I was pregnant,” I finished for him.

That was a dreadful time, but I’d stood by him through the cravings and tantrums. The moment the strip turned pink, hequit smoking and drinking. We had been so intent about doing things right for our baby.

“But you’re smoking now?” I said, disapprovingly.

I glanced around the lavish room. It was larger than my apartment, with what looked like a door to its own private bathroom. Familiar paper bags with the logo of the dress shop were on a little luggage stand, the blood long dried.

“Only when I’m stressed,” he answered.

“How often are you stressed?” We’d worked hard for him to quit.

I didn’t like that he’d started up again. At our age, we had to watch our health if we intended to live longer. I had no intention of prolonging my existence, but he had every reason to extend his.

“Not often,” he whispered, his hands balling into fists and relaxing again. “But this has me on edge.”

He meant me.

“Drink,” he said again. This time, I obeyed as the familiar feeling of disappointment went through me. Disappointment in myself, and the burden I placed on those around me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’ll pay you back for the dress.”

Tears pricked my eyes. I shivered, as a slight ache shot up my abdomen, tracing a line around my ribs to my shoulder. I triednot to wince. I didn’t want him burdened with my pain. I was such a weight on everyone around me!

“What?” Cobra put the glass down on the nightstand.

“The dress for the wedding,” I whispered, staring at the blood-soaked bag. “It’s ruined. I don’t think that I should go anyway. Not in my state.”

“Princess,” he said sweetly, but sternly. I’d love it if he called me that for the rest of my life. “I don’t give a damn about the dress. I’ll buy you the entire shop if you like.”

He turned to me, his brows knit together.

“And you’re going to the wedding.”

I whimpered. I was afraid that he’d say that. My heart sank to my feet, as I avoided his gaze.

“You didn’t want Trinity to know that you were attacked. I am doing my damned hardest to respect that, and to respect you.” He sat on the edge of my bed, our hips pressed together, as his weight dipped the mattress. “But if you do not show up to the wedding, she’ll be devastated.”