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I looked across the room and Eric did indeed have a massive erection. I was disgusted. Eric’s cheeks were rosy. He couldn’t take his eyes off the aggressive, dominant alpha in the room.
The true alpha.
How did anyone get beneath Caelan Cameron without getting a lashing? I was yet to find out.
“You’ve seen only what you’ve wanted to see of me,” I blurted, trying to bring my husband’s attention back to me. “You forget what I grew up with. You forget. If this has happened, blame the fact that Eric doesn’t shy away from what I really am.”
“Dinna talk to me of who you really are,” Caelan growled, so loudly, so viciously, the baby awoke.
Eric took one step towards the new crib I’d recently bought—and that was it—Caelan saw red. He moved so fast across the room, he had Eric’s body lifted off the floor by his neck before anyone could do anything. It was like fifteen stones meant nothing to my husband, as if some powerful force of nature bade him overcome the laws of physics.
I held my breath, covering my face. If he did it, I wouldn’t blame him.
Although…
“Please, Caelan,” I begged, voice barely above a squeak.
Eric’s face turned blue and he had no way of getting free. Caelan eventually dropped him on his arse like a sack of potatoes and Eric went on his hands and knees trying to catch his breath, winded and choking, all at the same time.
“Touch my son, ever, and you die,” Caelan warned, in a hollow, ghostlike tone of voice. “Touch that whore all you like, but not my son.”
The fact he wasn’t in tongue, enunciating perfectly, told us both how anguished Caelan was.
Caelan picked up Logan and held him to his chest, the boy quieting instantly. A boy knows his father. When he passed me as he went out of the room, he spat on the floor between my feet and hissed. I deserved that… and more.
Eric and I looked at one another. He was horrified. Defeated.
Whatever game he was playing, it had backfired, big time.
I left Eric stewing in the suite as I went downstairs having had a quick wash in the sink. I’d dressed and brushed my hair, which now was tied back in a sleek ponytail. I looked less fucked, if that would earn me anything, I didn’t know. Caelan was cuddling the boy before the hallway window, staring at the world outside. He’d gone completely into himself, his face now a perfect blank mask.
“Are you going to explain the truth about my father?” I demanded.
“Whatever way he’s tried to paint it, I was protecting ye. That’s all I ever try to do.”
Back to Normal Caelan, then. Maybe that beast upstairs was for Eric’s benefit.
“Oh god,” I said, nearly dropping to the floor as everything hit me, all at once. I had to reach for the sideboard to keep myself upright. Caelan only glanced briefly before he continued his staring contest with the outdoors.
“Aye,” he said, a muscle in his jaw feathering. “It’s true.”
“I didn’t quite believe it until now.”
“The Brighton thing, maybe, I could believe. If ye were stupid enough to leave Scotland and go back to London cos ye were bored.”
I didn’t deny it.
He kept his voice down. “I looked up those Syrians you killed. I canna prove it yet but I would be surprised if Eric hadn’t paid them good money to scare ye. It had to be a setup, y’see. Blake covered his tracks impeccably. I checked for ma self. Nobody would’ve been able to find the cabin wi’out help.”
I looked down at the floor, ashamed, embarrassed, revolted, empty. Of course, Caelan had already found out everything—and Syrians made sense. They were much less professional than the ones in Brighton. Amateurs, no doubt.
“What do we do?”
“Ye do everything I say. To the letter, okay?” Caelan whispered.
I nodded and wiped my eyes. “I’m sorry, Caelan. I’m so sorry.”
“Come here.”
