Page 2 of Laced With Secrets

The gesture sent unexpected warmth through my chest.

“Sleep well?” I asked softly, settling onto a breakfast stool with careful movements.

His mouth twitched. “About as good as a lumpy sofa will allow.”

He slid the steaming mug across the marble, his fingers lingering close enough that I could feel the warmth of his skin. “I added honey. The way you like it.”

Even the small considerations were still there. My throat tightened. “Where’s Blake?”

“Conference call with Tokyo. Business strategizing as usual.”

I set my mug down with deliberate care. “Right. Because that’s what the two of you do. Strategize.”

His jaw tightened. “Leo?—”

“Tell me something,” my voice stayed level, but the words carried all the hurt I’d been swallowing. “When exactly did I stop being a business opportunity?”

The question hung in the air between us.

Through the bond, I felt something that could only be pain. “Why are you punishing me for protecting you?”

“I’m not punishing you,” I said defensively.

His eyebrow arched. “Aren’t you?”

“You think every enemy you’ve made won’t eventually figure out that the best way to hurt you is through me?” I laughed, but there was no humor in it.

His whole body went rigid. “No one is going to hurt you.”

“Because you’ll destroy them first?” I asked. “You can’t just leave bodies in your wake every time someone stands in your path—even just figuratively.”

He frowned. His fingers clenched white against the marble countertop, knuckles straining beneath skin. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Do I?” I slid off the stool, the movement making me sway as dizziness washed over me.

Dominic was beside me instantly, his hands steadying my shoulders. The contact sent relief flooding through my system that I tried desperately to ignore.

“You need a proper meal.” He said, his cool gray eyes examining my face. “And you need to let me scent you.”

“I’m okay, really.” I said automatically, but my voice cracked on the words. My body betrayed me, trembling and leaning toward him even as my mouth formed the denial.

The way his nostrils flared told me he could smell exactly how much I craved his touch, how desperately I wanted to bury my face in his neck and breathe him in.

He was kind enough to not voice what we both knew.

“You’re not going anywhere until you eat something and let me scent you properly,” he said, alpha authority creeping into his voice. “I don’t care how angry you are with me.”

My knees went weak at the command, my omega biology responding even when my rational mind rebelled.

“Fine,” I whispered, hating how small I sounded.

Dominic didn’t move toward me. Instead, he stood perfectly still, waiting. Making me come to him first, making me choose the contact. The consideration in that gesture made my throat tight.

I stepped closer, close enough to catch his familiar scent of pine and cinnamon and something else uniquely him. My hands found his chest, fingers curling into the soft cotton of his Henley as I pressed my face against his neck.

His arms came around me immediately, one hand cupping the back of my head while the other settled at the small of my back. The relief was instantaneous and overwhelming—the constant anxiety that had been gnawing at me for days finally easing as his pheromones flooded my system.

“Christ, Leo,” he breathed against my hair, his voice rough. “You’re shaking.”