Page 61 of Bound By Blood and Lies

“Would you like to talk about it?” I murmur. “You don’t have to, but I’m here.”

She slips out of my arms and even though I’m trying to move at her pace, it still stings. She was never this hesitant about my touch before and the shift throws me. I don’t know how to deal with it, so I force myself to stay where I am instead of pulling her back against me.

She doesn’t go far; she just turns and settles cross-legged on the bed between my open thighs. Her head drops as she chews on her bottom lip hard enough that the skin is already paling under the pressure and I have the fleeting thought that she might draw blood if she doesn’t stop. Her hands drift to the fabric of the jogging bottoms and she starts worrying at a loose thread near the seam, twisting it slowly between her fingers. I give her the space to do it, counting slowly in my head to keep myself from pushing.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurts.

I blink.

My mind blanks for a beat, struggling to catch up with what she just said.

Pregnant.

My first instinct is pure, overwhelming joy. I want to pull her into me, lift her off the bed, celebrate the life she’s carrying like it’s the most miraculous thing I’ve ever heard. But the look on her face stops me cold.

There’s no happiness there. No excitement.

Only fear.

Guilt presses in and the memory of the pills I switched out flashes through my mind as she sits in silence. I reach forward, gently freeing her hands from where they’ve twisted themselves together and thread my fingers through them. I squeeze softly and finally allow the smile I’ve been holding back to surface.

“I’m really happy, Tink, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I say gently.

She lets out an unsteady laugh that carries none of the warmth a laugh should have. It trembles out of her like something brittle snapping under the pressure. The air between us tightens with the weight of half-hidden truths.

“You don’t understand,” she whispers.

“Okay,” I reply quietly, keeping my voice steady. “Then make me understand.”

She drags in a deep breath, gathering herself before finally lifting her eyes to mine.

“When I got taken, Quinn set me up?—”

“I know,” I cut in quietly. “And I killed her for it.”

Her head jerks back.

“W—what?” she gasps.

For the first time since she walked into this room, something flickers behind her eyes. Not joy exactly, but a small spark of life breaking through the exhaustion.

I give her a gentle nod.

“She’s dead, Fae,” I repeat softly. “I told you, anyone who hurts you will die.”

The light fades almost as quickly as it appeared. Her expression shifts again and the sadness creeps back in until she’s looking at me with something close to pity. My pulse kicks up hard at that look as a quiet dread settles beneath my ribs about what she must have seen… what she must have endured.

“You say that now…” she murmurs, her voice trailing off.

“I’ll say it later too,” I reply firmly.

She studies my face for a beat longer before giving a small, defeated shake of her head.

“Okay,” she says quietly, drawing her shoulders up as if bracing herself. “After Quinn, I woke up in a room. I was disoriented and confused. Robyn was there.”

My eyebrows lift at that.