Jamal shrugged. “He seems to like his name, dontcha Heinz?”
The dog barked in a clear affirmative.
Meanwhile, Miranda watched, her expression still an unmovable mask.
“We can keep him, right Mom?”
“I can’t believe you did that,” Miranda whispered the words, almost to herself. At the root of her words, I found accusation and disbelief.
It hit me then. I'd fucked up. I completely missed the mark. I thought this would be a welcome, thoughtful gift.
Of course, I knew it could go wrong, but I’d followed my gut.
The air hung thick between me and the woman next to me. I could practically hear Miranda's thoughts, her doubts, her fears. And worst of all, her disappointment in me. I had wanted to make things right, to bring some semblance of happiness into her life, but instead, I had only added to her burden.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, the words heavy with remorse. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Miranda remained silent, her gaze fixed on the dog—on Heinz—who now sat at her feet, looking up at her with adoring eyes. I could see the conflict in her expression, the war being waged behind those guarded eyes.
As Jamal chattered away about Heinz’s tricks, I turned to leave, the weight of my gesture—and its reception—heavy on my heart. “I'll see you tomorrow night for the hunt,” I said quietly before slipping away.
Chapter 15
The Badass
“He got you a puppy yesterday?” Vivien exclaimed from where she stood on a velvet pink pedestal, getting her dress measurements taken. “Oh my gosh, it will be like Cupcake has a cousin! Or a brother. Or a best friend,” Vivien spiraled off as if the relation of her invisible reaper puppy to my stolen corporeal underworld mutt were a complex algebra problem.
I was at the Paris hotel with Vivien and Timothy to prepare for the upcoming event.
Bianca, the Oracle goddess, insisted on having her designers dress us for the immortal ball, so we were here, where the place was as Hollywood glam as the goddess herself. Something soft and fruity hung in the air, and everything around me was soft and feminine.
Basically, the opposite of me. Yet I enjoyed the uber girly atmosphere.
Timothy’s even toned question cut off Vivien’s squeal of excitement. “Did youwanta dog?”
He sat across from me on a matching plush settee, drinking from a delicate China teacup. When you were rich as gods—literally—this is how you shopped for a dress. One was designed for you.
Or as Vivien called it, we were undergoing aPretty Woman.
The fact neither of us are hookers didn’t seem to make her back off that comparison.
I touched an empty spot on the chaise lounge next to me, my hand subconsciously reaching for Bob. I wasn’t the only one getting a glow up today. My weapon was whisked away for a shine and sharpen by someone Timothy vouched to be the best of the best. While Bob seemed more than willing to spring for a spa day, it felt like I was missing a limb.
I’d been reluctant to hand him over and had to ask Bob why Bes hadn’t been able to take him away from me during the fight yesterday. Xander had disarmed me many times during sparring. Bob explained I didn’t give consent, that our bond was protected by my energies. So after a long assessment of the hotel maid who was to take Bob away for care and Timothy’s assurances it would be fine, I relented.
Not that Bob would be any comfort in this uncomfortable conversation.
I answered. “No I didn’t want a dog, but?—”
What Xander tried to do, what he tried to return to me touched me deeply. It also brought on a tremendous amount of guilt.
Like a whale-sized canopy of guilt.
I had given Xander a partial lie about what happened when I was a child. There was a reason he couldn’t find my pet, and the truth was much darker and more painful than he knew.
His gift forced the past to bubble up like hot lava, burning and churning in my gut with a near unbearable fervor.
"Do you not want the puppy?” Vivien asked, her tone carefully tiptoeing around me. Man, I must really seem fragile if Vivien was treating me with kid gloves.
