Page 196 of Breathe Like Hell

But I wasn’t ready to admit that to anyone.

Not even myself. Admitting it only gave it more power to hurt me.

Dakota put her body on mine, brushing her soft lips against the front of my throat. I looked down at her, so beautiful below me as I traced blue veins on the inside of her pale forearm, interlocking our fingers and pressing her hand into the pillow.

“It’s your baby, isn’t it?” she breathed.

“Do you want to know?” I asked, searching her eyes for something I wasn’t exactly sure of.

She pressed her lips together and nodded.

“Yeah.” I didn’t move my stare from hers. I was almost paralyzed in that moment, waiting to see if she liked that answer or not, if she’d been hoping for it to be me or Mason, or if she hadn’t been hoping for anything at all.

A little grin slipped onto her face.

“What?” I teased, feeling more relaxed now, leaning down to kiss her neck as she tried to turn her flushed face away from me. My own tentative smile was pressed against her skin. “Does that make you happy?”

“I just knew it was you. Does Mason know?”

“He does now.”

“He’s probably not happy.”

“Probably not.”

“Are you happy?”

“Dakota,” I mumbled into her neck.

“I know the odds aren’t good,” she quickly added. “But are you happy?”

“What do you want me to say to that?” My voice was muffled. She pushed my shoulder, guiding me up so she could see my face over hers again.

“I want you to tell me if you’re happy that I’m pregnant with your baby. Even though I’ll probably miscarry, I want to know.”

Yes. I’m really fucking happy. But I can’t say that.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it,” she whispered when I remained silent.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

MASON

“Have you ever heard of the Angelakia?” Micah asked, watching me walk into the kitchen as he sat at the table with his laptop, the screen casting a white glow on his face in the darkness. The moon beamed in through the slanted blinds over the windows, painting stripes along the floor.

“No. What, have you? Why?”

“That’s what Dakota is. One of them.” He lowered his voice a bit, probably so she wouldn’t overhear us, though she was supposed to still be in the shower now. I hadn’t gotten much of a chance to speak with him since he got back yesterday afternoon. I’d been caught up with my Thrausian responsibilities, which I’d been neglecting somewhat since Aamon’s death. “Nobody knows of it until it happens.”

“Elaborate,” I said as I sat down. There was a glass of aither next to his laptop, the bottle set in the middle of the table. I considered taking a drink of the clear liquid myself, but I wasn’t good at stopping once I started, so I didn’t.

“It’s exceedingly rare.”

“Obviously. She’s rare.”

“She can anchor you, can’t she?” His eyes scrutinized my face, the blue-gray skimming over my confusion and shock. I’d never told him that. I wondered if he could somehow feel that through my emotions.

“Why? Is that what Angelakia means?”