Chapter Eight
Bari
The next few days were an odd but interesting mix of hours that dragged on entirely too long and those that flashed by so quickly I wondered if the clock was malfunctioning.
Sylas scheduled four hours each day to spend with me. In the morning, when most of the building was too chilly for me to be comfortable moving about, he met me in my room as we had the first night. He would strip off his shirt and mine and then climb into my bed, pressing his front to my back and wrapping his arms lightly around my belly as I dozed. In the mid-morning and early afternoon when the sunroom was warmed by the long banks of windows, he held my hand as we sat on the patio glider, reading. Then, before I retired for the night, he would again join me in my room, rubbing my swollen feet with his strong hands before placing a chaste goodnight kiss on my cheek and seeing himself out the door.
Sylas was kind, considerate, and solicitous and he never made a single move that could be considered inappropriate. In fact, even when I had a bad episode and asked him to touch me more intimately, he’d quietly declined and instead wrapped me in his arms as I cried, later explaining that my hormones had been fluctuating too drastically for him to be sure that I meant it. He was everything an Omega could wish for in a mate, which just made me more curious as to why he didn’t have one. Each time I asked, he shook his head, telling me that he thought his pheromones must be going to my head. I was pretty surethatwasn’t it.
“Bari?” Sylas’s voice came from the hall a fraction of a second before he knocked. “Are you ready to go?”
I cast one last look in the mirror and groaned. I was puffy. My cheeks had a dull flush that made me look fevered. The plaid pants and silvery gray tank that I’d settled on now struck me as drab and boring. Was it any wonder my Alpha had turned away from me?
I heard the squeak of the door, and a moment later, strong arms wrapped around me.
“Hey, now. None of that,” Sylas said firmly. “I don’t know what just went through your mind, but you’re an amazing Omega and you look gorgeous.”
I sighed as his scent washed over me. “Thank you. I needed that.”
“My pleasure,” Sylas said, squeezing me lightly. “Now, Mr. Christof wants to meet with you before the hearing, so we need to shake a leg.”
I snickered at the image of us hopping along the hall, shaking one leg as we went. “Americans have such odd sayings.”
Sylas laughed with me, tucking my hand into the crook of his elbow and leading me out the door. “I suppose that’s true,” he said lightly, “although I’ve heard some pretty odd ones from other parts of the world as well.”
As we drove, Sylas entertained me with some of the sillier phrases he could think of, and when we arrived at the Council of Elders Judicial Center, I was more relaxed than I’d thought was possible.
“Bari, nice to see you,” Mr. Christof greeted me warmly, as if we were old friends rather than acquaintances who had only met once before. Turning to Sylas, he reached out to grip his hand. “Nice to see you, Sy. I’m glad you came.”
Sylas shook his hand firmly. “My pleasure, but I’m not sure Bari has decided to have me in the room?” He cocked his brow at me, making it a question.
“I see.” Mr. Christof glanced around the hall and then ushered us into a private room and closed the door. Waving toward a small seating area, he urged us to sit before turning to me. “Bari, I understand your reluctance to have your support in the hearing, but I honestly believe it will help.” He paused, his brow wrinkling as he considered his words. “The paperwork filed by Ahearn’s council suggested that you are unstable. If you become overly distressed in the hearing, it could support their claim and hurt our cause.” He caught my eyes and held them. “In our first meeting, you said that your ideal outcome would be to have your husband back, yes?”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
“Then I need you to trust that taking my advice will have the strongest likelihood of that outcome, okay?”
I blew out my breath slowly. “Yes, Mr. Christof.”
He rolled his eyes, making him momentarily look completely unprofessional. “Call me Drey, would you?”
Beside me, Sylas snickered, shrugging when I glared at him. “I asked you to call me Sy,” he reminded me. “You refused.”
“You didnot,” I huffed in response. “You told meeveryonecalls you Sy. You did not ask me to.”
From my other side, it sounded as if my legal counsel was choking on a laugh, so I threw up my hands. “Whatever.”
Smiling broadly, Drey dropped into a seat across from us and dug through his bag, finally coming up with a yellow legal pad in one hand and a ratty stuffed rabbit in the other. Laughing, he gave the well-loved toy a quick hug before explaining, “My daughter thinks I get lonely at work, so she sent Hopsy to keep me company.” Sliding the toy back into his bag, he pulled a pen free and sat back, an expectant look on his face. “Before we get started, I have a few questions.”
