With the cramps getting worse, it didn’t seem likely.
There was also the risk of an alpha catching me out in public, but I couldn’t consider it. I had a one-track mind: get to Leighton.
Letting the carpet consume the sound of my footsteps, I slipped on the flats I’d worn to the restaurant. Then I tiptoed to the door, hoping beyond hope that it wouldn’t creak.
The hinges stayed silent, but I did not.
Smoke and hot iron washed over me the second I opened the door, wrenching a whine from my throat. Ambrose’s scent had been so weak on the clothes, so far away, that I hadn’t realized how intensely it would affect me—especially when he was sitting across the hall, watching the bedroom door.
“Do you need anything?” he asked huskily, draping his arm over his crotch to hide the bulge.
My heat scent was hitting him as hard as his scent was hitting me. I looked to the front door off to my right. There was no way I could get to it without him stopping me. He’d wrap me up in his embrace and I’d give in.
I’d be a goner.
Heat made me weak, and I’d beg for him to take the pain away. My stupid hormones would force me to leave thoughts of Leighton behind—at least until the haze cleared. Then I wouldn’t be able to stifle the guilt, and my bondmate could be all sorts of hurt.
One hand found Nyla, lifting up my shirt just far enough that Ambrose could see what I was doing. His eyebrows drew together and he stood slowly.
“Kiara? What’s wrong?”
My body trembled as I fought with myself. I shouldn’t pull this knife on him. I loved him. I loved him as much as I loved Leighton, so I shouldn’t get Nyla out and point her at him.
But he was going to stop me.
He loved me too, and he was going to stop me.
For Leighton’s sake, I needed to make sure that he didn’t.
Tears streaked down my face as I shakily pulled Nyla from her holster. Ambrose watched the movement. I hated the flicker of fear across his features—the same swirling horror I’d caught in the depths of his eyes when he’d had me pinned against the wall by my throat. The blade brought up memories for him, and I hated to be the one to do it.
I couldn’t hold it out in front of me. I held it by my side, hoping the threat would be enough.
“I need to go.”
Ambrose shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere.”
I sniffled, wiping my face with the back of my free hand. “Tobias is going to hurt her, Ambrose. He wants me to go to him, so I’m going to go.”
He rumbled, the sound sending potent desire straight to my core. My body threatened to curl up into a ball, my grip on the knife tenuous at best.
“Princess, you’re not leaving me.”
Choking on a sob, I shook my head. The tears could have been from anything at this point—the heat pains, the sense of loss, how much I hated threatening him. All I knew was they wouldn’t stop. “No, I am. I—I’ll use it. That’s why I got it out, b-because I’m not afraid…”
That was such a fucking lie.
I was terrified to use it.
Not because I worried he would react like the last time and get close to killing me. My fear came from how badly it would damage our relationship. He’d forgiven me for the first time—I’d been desperate and misinformed. I’d forgiven him, too.
Would we survive something like that again?
Both literally—the bruises on my neck throbbed in silent warning—and figuratively. He’d never trust me if I did this. Since I purged their scent from my nest, I bet he already thought I favoured Leighton, which wasn’t the case. I wanted all my alphas alive, and if Leighton had been standing in my way to get to Ambrose, I would have threatened her too.
No matter how much it hurt.
“Dash and Mercury are finding a way to get her back right now,” he soothed.
