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“Because I'm angry!”
“Don't get upset.”
“STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO FEEL!” I shut my fucking mouth, probably wise. She scrubbed furiously at her cheeks. “You don't understand what you're doing to me.”
Something cold slid through my chest. “What am I doing?”
“You're making me afraid to move.”
My brow furrowed. “No. I'm keeping you safe.”
“No, Viking. You're keeping yourself safe.” That hit hard. She saw it. Good. Apparently she wanted blood this morning. “You're terrified,” she continued, quieter now. “I know you are.”
“I am not terrified.”
“Bullshit.”
My temper snapped. “YOU WERE FUCKING SHOT!” The roar shook the room. I saw Bryn flinch Instant regret cut through me. I stepped back but the words were already coming. “I HELD YOU WHILE YOU BLED! I watched you fucking collapse in my arms. Then someone fired into this house while I wasn't here. A bullet missed Layla's head by inches while you were sitting in the same fucking room!” My fangs had dropped; I used every ounce of my willpower and forced them back. “You think I can just forget that?”
“I never asked you to.”
“You think I don't remember your blood on my hands every fucking time I close my eyes?” Her anger faltered but mine didn't, it couldn't.
“I wake up listening for your heartbeat. I leave this house every night wondering whether I'm going to come home to another fucking bullet hole. Now you're carrying my child.”
I pointed toward the bed. “So yes. I want you resting.”
Her chin lifted. “And I need to live.” Silence, four words. That was all and they cut straight through me. “I need to live, Viking,” she repeated. “I need to walk around. I need fresh air. I need to laugh with the women and go downstairs and make my own damn tea if I want one. I need to feel like your mate, not your prisoner.”
“You aren't my prisoner.”
“Then stop guarding the door.”
I looked at my hand still pressed against it. Fuck. I lowered it. Bryn's expression softened. She reached for me but I stepped away. Not because I didn't want her touching me but because I wanted it too fucking much.
“I can't lose you.” The confession came out quieter than I'd intended.
Her eyes filled again. “You're not going to.”
“You don't know that.”
“Neither do you.” Exactly, that was the fucking problem.
A knock sounded, I turned with a snarl. “What?”
The door opened. Lucien stuck his head inside. “Are we interrupting a murder?”
“Fuck off.”
His gaze moved from me to Bryn. “Whose?”
“Yours,” we answered simultaneously.
Lucien grinned. “Excellent. Family meeting downstairs.”
“No.”
Bryn said, “Yes.”
