Quinn smiled and walked over to kiss her forehead. “I’m glad I can do things to make you happy.”
Now she looked a bit shamefaced. “I appreciate all you do.”
He hadn’t wanted that admission. It sounded as if he’d said something to make her feel guilty about tangible items.
He wanted Phoedra to care for him and to know how much he loved her. Not be beholding to him.
Sorrow swept over him, but he kept it from his voice. “Providing material things for you is easy. I want to get to know you better and for our visits to be comfortable. I hope one day that you’ll want to travel somewhere with me, but I’m not asking for that today. Just know that while I can’t change the past, I do want a real future together.”
“I do too,” she whispered then lifted an arm and leaned forward. He opened his arms. The hug was awkward, but made him smile with pure joy.
She’d reached for him.
Her eyes glistened. Allergies or ... emotion? She sniffled.
He withdrew a handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her.
She gave him a watery smile and quirked an eyebrow. “Who carries these around?”
“Gentlemen do.” He had to blink away moisture stinging his eyes and smiled. He’d like to stand here and savor this moment just a few seconds longer, but he wanted her to hold onto that smile and depart on an up note. “Ready to go?”
“Yep!”
He called Trey telepathically and arranged to have Brina teleport Phoedra right away. Smiling as wide as he could to send her off with a happy visual of him, he stepped back. “You should be departing any moment now.”
She gave him a small wave.
Then she was gone.
His heart squeezed with that tiny moment he’d shared with her. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. How was he going to get his mind on business after that?
As if in answer, his stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten since ... hell, he couldn’t remember. He’d had no time for a meal. Heading for the kitchen, he started opening cabinets until he found a bag of crispy cheese snacks.
He grabbed a handful and crunched them.
A wonderful cheesy smell clouded the air.
He’d eaten half the bag when Reese came down the hall, saying, “I’m ready to go if you—”
When she stepped into the kitchen, she inhaled sharply. Her eyes went round. She covered her mouth and ran back down the hall.
What the ... ? Quinn dashed out to the hallway in time to see the powder room door slam shut.
That didn’t muffle the awful retching.
Reese smelled cheese and threw up?
Oh, shit.
She was pregnant.
Chapter 5
Daegan! Tristan shouted telepathically.
The word shot back at him, slamming his head so hard he surfaced from being lost in his hell. Where was Daegan?
Bindings cut his wrists. Warm blood trickled down to his arms stretched above his head.
He tried to teleport. Energy inside him spun up, but nothing happened. Shit. He stopped before he threw up.
Searching inside, he called up his gryphon to boost his power.
His beast rumbled, sounding sluggish. What was wrong? Tristan dug through his memory. Had he been drugged?
Teleporting was a dud. He had no gryphon power. And his telepathic communication boomeranged.
If only he had a paperclip to make a bomb out of like on that old television show.
Voices came to him from a distance, as if two people had climbed inside a barrel to muffle their conversation.
That was just stupid.
Think harder.
He focused on the voices in spite of pain jabbing his head. Not just there. His chest hurt like someone had rammed him with a spiked club.
Fog, dark and sluggish, began to slowly clear from his mind. Beladors had exceptional hearing. He should be able to understand words better.
“No!” a high-pitched voice screeched.
Tristan clenched his jaw and groaned. Too fucking loud this time. He swallowed a disgusting taste that his stomach considered returning. A chill ran across his skin. He shuddered.
Could this be the afterlife?
Probably not for him to be freezing like this.
Staying still as he came closer to consciousness, he drew on his senses.
His arm muscles burned, holding the dead weight of his body. Not dead yet. Now that he could sort out what was going on, he hung from manacles clamped on his wrists. The blood trickling down came from where those metal torture devices cut into his skin and scraped bone. Similar straps held his ankles to the wall behind him. Bumpy and rough surface. Could be stone.
Damp smelling, too.
Voices rumbled low this time.
Without making a sudden move, he opened his eyelids, peering through eyelashes. His head hung to his left side, but with a small movement, he could see a wide area.
Why was it so freaking dark in here?
Not entirely dark. He squinted. Flames burned in two spots maybe a hundred feet away. Torches?
Was this a castle dungeon? Had he stepped back in time? Doubtful. But where the hell was he?
A low male voice said something Tristan couldn’t make out.
That screechy female voice shouted in some odd accent, “You want to be partners, but you treat me like a slave. Worse than a slave.”
Tristan kept peeling his eyelids open a fraction at a time. Once he allowed enough light in to see clearly, he recognized Cathbad the Druid, who had captured him.
But he had no clue about the identity of that woman yelling at Cathbad.
Thinking back to when he realized Cavan was actually Cathbad, Tristan tried to recall if he’d been able to tell Daegan about the druid in his last telepathic message. He couldn’t say for sure.
Now he remembered why his chest hurt so badly.
Cathbad had hit him with something that had claws. A baseball bat ... with claws?
He didn’t know.
Voices rose and dropped, pulling Tristan’s attention back to the nattering pair.
They faced each other with their profiles turned to him. Cathbad had on his usual slick suit and perfect hair.
Mysterious screeching woman had a sexy-as-hell body, beautiful skin, and blond hair ... all that dripping
