Page 62 of Tyrant


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“Maybe Jedrik can—”

“If Jedrik disappears for any length of time, Waleron will know. I’m a solitary, no Talde, and Waleron contacts me through email or cell. I’m the only choice.”

“But—”

“Abbs,” I barked.

She lowered her head and shut up. A much different reaction to my warning than the last time we were together. I remember her laughing when I’d instructed her to take off her clothes and lie on the bed. Then she stood on the bed and did a dance for me without removing a single piece of clothing. That lasted five minutes, and it only lasted that long because she did look fuckin’ cute and sexy as hell, even if she wasn’t naked.

Then I’d tackled her, ripped off her clothes, and showed her what happens when she ignores my instructions. She’d begged and moaned under my tongue for a good hour.

“Maybe I can do this myself and you can—”

“I’ll deal with this shit.” I slammed my foot on the accelerator and the car jerked forward.

“I’m not anyone’s shit,” Abby retorted.

I felt her eyes delving into me, but I refused to look at her. I didn’t need to, because I knew exactly her expression—pursed lips with adorable furrowed brows and flaring nostrils. She had that expression when I called her a ‘little red-haired pixie.’

I’d laughed. Then laughed even more when she threw a pillow at me. Then another. And another. Then she yanked on her clothes and was halfway to the hotel room door before I stopped laughing. I wasn’t done with her and had no intention of letting her leave.

Then I did something very uncharacteristic of me, and the laughing had already been uncharacteristic, I bent, snatched a pillow off the floor, and threw it at her. That started the pillow fight that ended up being a wild fuck among thousands of feathers.

“At the moment, you are my shit to deal with, Abbs.” I waited for the punch in the arm or her words of retaliation. It never came. I glanced at her and she stared out the window, her thin brows drawn low over her glassy, tear-filled eyes.

It was instinctive. I reached across the space between us and swept the back of my hand down her cheek. “Christ, Abbs. I didn’t mean it like that.” How did I say this without hurting her feelings? “I never wanted a relationship or a child.” And this was why I kept my distance from chicks. Dealing with their emotional shit was like lighting my head on fire.

She nodded. “Yeah. Me neither. Guess we don’t always get what we want.”

Silence.

“Babe, you won’t become a vampire.”

She didn’t say anything.

I swerved onto the shoulder and put the car in park. “If you don’t drink blood, you can’t Transition. Period. And I won’t let you drink it.”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Damn it, look at me!” When she ignored me, I cupped her chin and forced her to meet my eyes. I might hate being here, but I never shirked my responsibilities, and right now, Abby was mine. “You won’t be a vampire, okay? I won’t let it happen. We do this detox shit and you can go back to your coven and we can forget any of this happened.” I didn’t mention the baby because the chance of it surviving was slim to none.

Silence.

My fingers pressed into her chin and she tried to jerk away, but I tightened my grip. Her hand reached up and latched onto my wrist as she dug her nails into me until I let her go.

“Abby.”

She met my eyes and we stared at one another for several seconds. She licked her dry lips and my eyes darted to her mouth.

“So what happens, Damien? I live in a box and you guard it?”

“Pretty much.” This was so much worse than I imagined. And I imagined this scenario as being pretty fuckin’ bad. “Balen says it will be worse at night, but once the craving fades, you won’t Transition.”

Her head dropped forward and her hair shielded her face. “Think the baby will survive the detox?”

“Christ, Abbs.” How the fuck could I answer that? I put the car into gear and swerved back into traffic. “I don’t know.”

She shrugged and leaned her head back on the headrest. “Yeah, I guess not.”

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