Julien makes a humming noise, his hand still pressed to my face. “And how are you feeling now?”
I consider the question for a second before shrugging. “I’m not sure, honestly. The whole omega pregnancy thing is still too abstract for me to get my brain around. It doesn’t feelrealwithout seeing—or, I guess experiencing—it myself.” I sigh. “And as far as Randall’s death goes… I’m not sure what I’msupposedto feel about that. He wasn’t exactly the greatest person.”
“It’s still okay to feel sad,” says Julien. “There’s no right or wrong way to feel about someone’s death, regardless of who that person may have been in life.”
My mate has a point. Just because Randall isn’t someone I’m going to particularly miss, that doesn’t mean his death doesn’t affect me. Even now, twelve hours or so and a good night’s sleep later, there’s a hollow feeling in my chest that’s not quite grief or sadness, but something closer to… I don’t know. Disappointment maybe?
I didn’t lose a loving uncle—literally or figuratively—but I lost thepossibilityof ever having one and that’s the thing I’m not sure how to process.
There’s no five stages of mild disappointment.
In fact, I think I’m a little more upset about the woman I thought was my mother not being my mother than about Randall being dead. I never knew her. Well, not that I remember anyway, but I’d always held on to the fact that she’d loved me.
I suppose that was bullshit, though.
Sighing, I cuddle closer to Julien, and he wraps his arms around me, just holding me. I’ll never get enough of moments like this, where I can simply relax and enjoy my mate’s company. Sure, there’s plenty of crap waiting for us once we get out of bed, but for this tiny space of time, there’s only me and Julien.
“Any chance of kicking everyone out for a bit and taking some time for ourselves before we have to deal with any of this crap?” I ask, only half joking.
“Sorry.” Julien shakes his head, then curls his hand around the back of my neck, guiding me to place my cheek against the bare skin of his chest.
“Yeah. I didn’t think so.”
“I need to talk to Remy before the praetorians get here. He didn’t ask any questions last night when I asked him to get rid of everyone else, but I think he should know what’s going on.”
“Even about…” I let the words trail off as one of my hands curls around my stomach.
Julien sighs. “Yes, even about what Ben said. I’m not entirely sure I trust the guy yet and I’d like Remy to look into him more.” He pauses. “That is, unless you…”
“I’m not sure I trust him either,” I say. “Ben, I mean, not Remy. Sure, I believe most of what he said, like about Karina not being my mother and Theo was obviously pregnant at some point, but his timing is still odd.”
Julien presses a kiss on the top of my head. “If anyone can figure out the truth, it’s Remy.”
“I suppose we have to get out of bed, don’t we?”
“Unfortunately.”
The idea of leaving this little slice of peace and contentedness isn’t very appealing, but the sooner we deal with this mess, the sooner Julien and I can get back to it.
I drag myself out of bed, happy to find my backpack sitting on the floor next to the dresser. Someone must have brought it in. At least I’ll face the day in my own clothes.
As I dig through the mis-mash of clothing shoved into the backpack, my fingers brush against the jagged edge of a piece of paper tucked along the side. I tug it out of the bag, my brows drawing together as I take in what’s written across it in unfamiliar handwriting:Watch your back.
Thirty-Eight
Keir
Avaguewarningisa useless warning, especially in this case. Whoever left this stupidly vague note is kind of an asshole in my opinion. The only thing this note does, besides making me paranoid, is make me suspicious of everyone I’ve met in the last week or so.
Hell, maybe even the last few months, since I have no idea how long this note has been in my backpack. For all I know, this note came from someone at my last stop before I ended up in Chicago and has been in there for months.
“What is it?” asks Julien, probably noticing how tense I suddenly am.
I hold the piece of paper up and wave it around. “Someone left me a note telling me to watch my back.”
“Who?”
“Damned if I know.” I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. Can’t I just have a normal life where something isn’t always going wrong?
