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ONE
ALIZE
Alex shovesme into the stateroom with a harsh palm against the small of my back, slamming the door shut behind us. My head’s spinning—mostly from the clinic’s email—and he isn’t making it any better.
It might just be my imagination, but he seems different.
When he came back into the bathroom with the water I asked for, it was like a switch had flipped. The concern and warmth in his eyes just minutes earlier withered into something empty and cold. And all the courage I mustered up to tell him that I could bepregnantwithered along with it.
“Are you alright?” I ask, swallowing around the lump in my throat.
He’s towering over me, both of us standing in the aisle of the plane’s stateroom, between the double bed and the bureau. Earlier, Alex led me through the seating area without a word. The whole plane is decorated in shades of cream and gray, with white leather seats and carbon fiber-covered bulkheads.
My question hangs in the air.
Alex takes in a sharp breath through his nose, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. His blonde hair falls over his forehead, the top of it mussed like he’s been in a fight.
“Get on the bed.”
His sentence comes out clipped. I raise my eyebrows, unsure if I’ve heard him correctly.
“What?”
Alex’s nostrils flare, his hand shooting out to grip my neck. He pulls me closer to him, close enough for me to feel the heat of his skin, his chest rising and falling against my own. He cocks his head, glowering down at me with an expression that sinks into the pit of my stomach.
It wasn’t in my head after all.
Heisdifferent.
Ice prickles the skin along the back of my neck. I try to pry his hand from my neck but it’s no use, so I dig my fingers into the skin of his forearm.
“What’s your problem, Alex?” I can barely get the words out thanks to his vice grip.
Alex bares his teeth, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly as his eyes skim over my face. I can’t figure out what’s caused this. It’s like we’re back to the first time he cornered me after Professor Holmes’ lecture. Which makes no sense because so much has changed since then.
His child could be growing inside of me, for one.
That thought comes right as he tosses me on to the bed. I land against the fluffy comforter, scrambling to breathe and right myself all in the same second. Alex’s gaze is searing, the darkness of his aura spreading through the room like a choking haze.
I straighten my spine, meeting his gaze head on.
“Take your clothes off,” he commands.
Beyond the closed door of the stateroom are the muffled sounds of the crew preparing for takeoff. The walls of the room are closing in on me but I can’t take my eyes off Alex. The longer I look at him, the wilder he seems—the vein bulging in his forehead, the tension of his muscles as he balls his fists by his sides—every bone in my body is telling me to bolt out of the room.
And that’s exactly why I can’t move.
Because the terror he instills in me feels too familiar. Something isdefinitelywrong, and though I can’t be sure what’s bothering him, I know what he needs. There’s a promise in his harsh stare.
It’s all kinds of fucked up, but it’s what makes us who we are. He needs to hurt me to get some reprieve from whatever’s troubling him, and I need to feel the pain to forget. That’s our thing.
And right now, Ireallywant to forget.
I want to forget that by this time next year we’ll have a baby if that blood test was right. Part of me still doesn’t want to accept it. I need to see a positive pregnancy test for myself—an ultrasound even.
Because if it’s true, it changes everything. Alexander and I will beparents.
There’s hardly enough air in the room.
