She turned quickly, and automatically, I shot out my hands to steady her in case she got dizzy. But her eyes remained focused when she looked up at me with her clear gray gaze. “You really meant all of that earlier, didn’t you?”
With a frustrated growl, I grasped her hips and carefully pulled her into me. “I mean everything I tell you, my Mila. I will only ever tell you the truth. There will never be a lie that leaves my lips when it comes to you.” I kissed the tip of her nose, then lifted her into my arms.
Squealing, she wrapped her arms around my neck and laid her head on my shoulder. “Can we check out the bedroom now?” she asked with a sexy little pout.
“After I feed you, babe.” I carried her into the kitchen, where boxes still littered the floor. I was going to have to do a major clean so she didn’t trip over anything. “Until I get this shit put away, I don’t want you walking around in here without me.” I sat her on the counter of the island and opened the fridge.
All I really had to eat were frozen meals, but there were some sandwich fixings and a few veggies. I grabbed everything I needed and set it beside her before grabbing a knife and a plate. When I turned back around, she was already taking slices of cheese out of the container and stuffing it into her mouth hungrily.
Smirking because I’d been right to hold off on sating her other hunger, I started putting us together a quick snack. “Pickles?” I asked, pulling out a few for my own.
She made a disgusted face, shaking her head. “Yuck.”
“Hates pickles. Noted.” I sliced the tomato and added it to both sandwiches. “My sister craved pickles when she was pregnant with my niece and nephew. There’s this ice cream shop near her house that caters to pregnant women’s craving. One has dill pickles already mixed into the vanilla.”
“Please shut up about pickles,” she whispered, suddenly breathing through her mouth.
Realizing she was nauseated, I dropped everything and reached for her. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“The pickles,” she moaned. “I can smell them, and they’re making me sick.”
Quickly, I tossed the sandwich with pickles in the trash and then dumped the entire jar into the sink. Running the cold water, I turned on the disposal and tossed in a few of the lemon balls to clear up any lingering smell before washing my hands.
When all evidence and smell of pickles were gone, I went back to her and pulled her head to my chest. “Better?” I choked out, pissed at myself for not realizing sooner she was sick.
She twisted her fingers in the material of my shirt. “Getting there,” she muttered. Lifting her head, she gave me a weak smile. “You’re kind of adorable when you’re taking care of me.”
“Get used to it, babe. I’m going to be taking care of you for the next eighty years, at the least.” Kissing the top of her head, I stepped back. Reaching into the fridge, I pulled out a bottle of water and uncapped it for her.
She took a few sips before finally getting her color back. “I’m good now. But could we skip the snack? I think I’m going to hold off on eating for a little while.”
“Whatever you want, babe.” I scooped her up into my arms and headed for the back stairs. “Let me show you the bedroom… For a nap,” I amended when her eyes began to sparkle with a new hunger. “You nearly puked down there, babe. I think you should take it easy for a little bit.”
“But…” Her bottom lip pouted out again. “Don’t you want me?”
I kicked open the master bedroom door then carried her to the bed. Fortunately, I’d actually made it, and the room itself was relatively neat except for the towel I’d used that morning lying on the floor at the foot of the bed.
Once I had her on the pillows, I followed her down and pulled her close. “Babe, I’m dying for you.” I pressed my lower body into her side, letting her feel just how much I wanted her. A mewl-like sound escaped her, and my cock flexed against her thigh. “I want you so badly, it hurts to breathe right now. I think I’m going to have a permanent imprint of my zipper on the shaft of my cock because of it. But I want more than just a quick fuck with you. We’re more than just sex.”
“Lyric,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.
“Did I ever tell you it was love at first sight for my mom and dad?” She shook her head. “It was, or so they tell my brother and me. They said ‘I love you’ to each other the day after their first date. And they can embellish the story all they want, but I know they had sex that first night. Mom blushes way too much every time she talks about their first date for them not to have gotten it on.”
“Kind of like us,” she murmured then quickly shook her head. “I mean, it’s not like we fell in love at first sight—”
“Says who?” I demanded, lifting my head to glare down at her. “I fell hard that night, my Mila.”
“Are…” She paused, licking her lips. “Lyric, are you saying you love me?”
“Not very well, apparently,” I muttered, and she grinned. Cupping the side of her face, I stroked my thumb over her bottom lip. “I love you, Mila.”
“Sweet last words for a dead-ass motherfucker,” a feral voice said from behind us.
Mila screamed, her eyes going over my head, but the feel of something cold and metal pressing to the back of my head kept me from seeing who our guest was. Heart pounding, I used my body to shield Mila.
“Dad!” she cried, tears filling her eyes. “It’s not what you think.”
Fuck. It was her father. This wasn’t exactly how I wanted to meet the man again, but at least we weren’t naked. That probably would have earned me a bullet to the back of the head already.
“Monroe got home and said she saw your car in front of this dickhead’s shop,” Masterson told his daughter. “Then I get a text from Doc saying he saw you leaving the fucking emergency room with some guy he’d never seen before. Said you were the one getting checked out, Mila. What the fuck is wrong with you that this guy took you to the fucking hospital and you didn’t even call me or your mom?”
“Dad, please put the gun away, and I’ll tell you everything.” Tears poured down her face, and she tried to move out from under me, but I only held on tighter. I didn’t care if it was her dad; I wasn’t letting her go when he had a gun in his hand and his finger on the trigger.
“Get your ass up, Mila. Right fucking now,” he barked.
“No goddamn way,” I growled, unable to turn my head because the gun was still pressed against it. “She’s not moving until the gun is put away. I don’t give a fuck if you’re her father or not. You will not put her in danger by waving that damn thing around while she’s unprotected.”
“Lyric,” she begged in a whisper. “Please don’t push his buttons. His knife is out too. He’d just as easily slit your throat right now.”
“Don’t give a fuck,” I told her. “Put the gun away, Mr. Masterson, and I’ll let her up. We can talk like adults, or you can slit my throat like Mila said. But the gun needs to go.”
I heard him curse viciously, but the gun was moved away from my head, and I was finally able to look over my shoulder just in time to see him tuck the gun into the holster under his leather cut.
Mila moved fast, sliding out from under me and rolling on top of me, but facing her father. “Don’t hurt him, Dad. He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Why were you at the hospital with this guy, Mila? Why didn’t you call me or your mom if you were sick?” He had a wicked-looking knife in his left hand, waving it around as he talked to her. “And why the fuck are you in his house now? I know for a fact that Raven sent all you kids a text telling you who the new tattoo artist in town is. Why the hell would you even go to his shop?”
“Dad. There’s something I need to tell you.” Her voice was weak, cracking every other word. “But Mom should hear it too. Can we just go home and discuss this there?”
“Tell me now, Mila.”
“I-I think Mom should be present,” she argued. “So you don’t do something you can’t take back.”
“Now!” His voice was like a clap of thunder, making her flinch.
Fuck this shit. I wasn’t going to let him scare her. She shouldn’t be getting upset. The doctor told us she needed to keep stress levels low, and she was shaking. Grasping her waist, I lifted her and placed her at the end of the bed. Standing, I faced her father.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” I snarled at him, taking a step in his direction. Mila wrapped her arms around me from behind, keeping me from getting closer.
“Please,” she sobbed. “Please don’t make him madder than he already is.”
“No one is going to talk to you like that,” I told her, covering her hands, my fingers stroking over her knuckles. “Ever.”
“You got guts, kid,” Masterson said in a calm voice, and I felt Mila tremble against me. I balled my hands into fists, ready to knock this asshole on his ass if he kept scaring her. “But they’re about to be spilled on the floor if you don’t get the hell out of my way so I can take my daughter home.”
Chapter 16
Mila
This was it. It was the end of Lyric.
He’d just told me he loved me, and now Dad was going to kill him. There would be no talking my way out of this. No twisting Dad around my finger to get what I wanted. I was too scared for the father of my babies to even try.
“She stays,” Lyric told Dad, not backing down. His voice was hard, full of just as much venom as Dad’s was. He wasn’t shaking in fear as he should have been doing.
The only thing that told me he was even affected by the sight of my dangerous father and his deadly knife was the pounding of his heart, which I could hear with my ear pressed up against his back. But I wasn’t sure if it was because of Dad or the thought of me leaving.
“Lyric,” I whispered his name. “Please.”
I didn’t want him to get hurt. The thought of Dad hurting him, or worse—killing him—made me sick to my stomach. I tried to breathe through my mouth to fight the nausea, but the world was starting to dim around the edges.
Panic began to choke me. “Lyric,” I cried his name, clutching at him.
He turned in my arms, his hands now trembling as he cupped my face. “Babe? Babe!” he shouted, but it sounded like it was coming from the end of a long tunnel. “Mila, fuck,” he groaned.
I felt him lift me and then the comfort of the mattress at my back. “Baby, the doctor said no stress,” he scolded gently, stroking my hair back from my face.
“What the hell is wrong with her?” Dad’s voice was full of concern now, having lost some of the menace.
When I turned my head, I saw him standing on the other side of the bed, his knife still in hand. “I’m okay,” I told him weakly.
“The fuck you are,” Dad half shouted. “Mila, I swear to God, you better tell me what’s wrong with you right now before I lose my shit.”
“Dad…”
“She’s pregnant,” Lyric snarled at him. “And she shouldn’t be stressed out. You’re waving a knife around and scaring the hell out of her. Her blood pressure dropped, and she nearly passed out. Now, either put the knife down and get me a wet washcloth out of the bathroom, or leave.”
To my utter surprise, the knife went into the holster on Dad’s belt, and he moved faster than I’d ever seen him move before as he disappeared into the connecting bathroom. Moments later, a cool cloth was pressed to my brow.
“Feeling better now, babe?” Lyric asked softly, stroking soothing swirls with his thumb on my wrist he was holding.
“I’m so tired,” I whined, hating how weak I felt.
“It’s okay. You can sleep,” he promised. “Just close your eyes. I’ll walk your dad out.”
“I’m not going anywhere without my daughter,” Dad said in a curt voice, and my head began to throb.
“Yes, you fucking are,” Lyric told him in a voice that was hard as stone. “You’ve already upset her enough. She’s not feeling well and needs to rest. You can come back tomorrow—if she’s feeling up to it.”
It felt surreal that he was going toe-to-toe with my dad. The father of my babies hadn’t backed down once to the man who’d had a gun pressed to his skull only minutes before. Did he not understand how deadly Spider Masterson was? Or did he just not care?
“You don’t tell me what to do, boy. That’s my little girl there—”
“And that’s my woman!” Lyric roared, then gave me an apologetic grimace as he bent over me, gently brushing my hair back from my face again. “Sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to yell. Are you okay?”
I was pretty sure I’d actually passed out and this was all some kind of weird dream, one where Dad wasn’t shooting anyone. Lyric was facing down the Angel of Death and—so far—had survived unscathed.
Dad muttered something I didn’t catch, pulling my gaze back to him. I watched as he scrubbed his hands over his face agitatedly, and I held my breath, waiting for his next move, praying Lyric didn’t get murdered.
“I’m going home,” he surprised me by announcing. “But your mother and I will be back tomorrow. And we will get answers, Mila Jane.” He pointed his finger at Lyric. “You better protect this girl with your life. You hear me, rocker boy?”
“Loud and clear, sir,” Lyric told him, his tone full of respect for a man who’d nearly killed him only minutes before. “I promise you, I will protect her until my last breath. I love her, Mr. Masterson.”
Dad opened his mouth to argue. I could see in his eyes that he wanted to say something biting, but he surprised me further when he clenched his jaw shut and nodded. “Tomorrow,” he repeated, the single word coming out threateningly.
As soon as he was gone, Lyric kissed my brow. “I’ll be right back. I need to lock up downstairs and set the alarm. Your dad moved like a fucking ninja, babe.”
“Dad is more dangerous than a ninja,” I warned.
He snorted out a dry laugh. “No shit. Stay there. Don’t move around while I’m gone. I shouldn’t be long.”
While he was downstairs, I glanced around his room. It was fairly neat for a guy. Maverick’s room was a disaster unless River snuck in, and then the mess drove her crazy and she cleaned it for him. I didn’t know if Lyric’s room was so clean because he was a neat person, or if it was just because he’d only recently moved in. Either way, I had a feeling he wanted me to stick around, so I’d make sure this room stayed clean.
I liked the warm tones of the covers, and the pillows were just the right firmness to make me never want to get out of bed. There was a dresser near the closet and a TV stand with a large flat screen sitting on it. Seeing the remote on the nightstand beside me, I grabbed it.
I wasn’t surprised to see it was on one of the sports channels. It was weird, because two minutes later, the host of whatever show was on started talking about Tennessee’s upcoming game against Jacksonville that Sunday and how Luca Thornton dominated for the defense.
The guy started talking football lingo, and I tuned him out, just watching footage of Luca playing the previous week against Indianapolis, and then a few clips from some of his college games. I winced when he roughly tackled some massive offensive guy during one of his Alabama games. I didn’t know guys on the defense could move so fast.
My knowledge of football was pretty nonexistent, but I did know that a lot of the guys on the defense were on the heavy side. Luca, however, was pure muscle.
“Really?” Lyric grumbled when he came back into the room. He seemed irritated, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he kept his eyes on the TV. “These idiots don’t have anything better to do, so they’re debating which skank my dumb-ass brother is currently dating?”
“I wasn’t really paying attention to what they were saying. Half the time, I don’t understand what they are talking about anyway,” I admitted.
He dropped down beside me on the bed, his arm going across me and pulling me into his body. I cuddled close, pillowing my head on his thick shoulder. “Here’s everything you need to know about my brother, bab
e. One, he’s always been in love with Violet. Since before she was even born. They had this weird bond that started when Aunt Harper was pregnant with her. Two, he fucked up, and he’s been paying the price ever since. Three, when you hear these morons talk about who he’s dating, they get it wrong every time. He lives solely for Vi, and he isn’t stupid enough to mess up again… I hope.”
The last two words were gritted out as live footage of Luca walking out of the locker room after practice that evening showed some girl jumping into his arms and kissing him.
“Ah fuck,” he muttered. “This isn’t going to be pretty.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and shifted so he was holding me with his other arm. “Five, four, three, two…” He’d didn’t even get to one before his phone chimed with multiple texts all at once, and I looked at the screen.
Mom: Did you know your brother is dating someone?
Dad: Who the fuck is that trash with your brother?
Lucy: What the hell is Luca thinking?
Lyric released a pained sigh but didn’t open the phone to return any of the messages. It was like he was waiting. And a few seconds later, he grunted as one more text appeared on the screen.
Vi: Going to London with Shaw for the weekend. If you see anything you don’t like about me in the trash mags, be sure and screenshot that shit and send it to your dirtbag brother.
“And Self-Destruct Violet has made a comeback,” he muttered unhappily.
I snatched the phone out of his hand and turned it off. “Let’s not worry about them for a few minutes,” I told him as I rolled onto his chest and smiled down at him. “You just survived having a gun pressed to your skull. I think that should be celebrated.”
He groaned, his hands cupping my ass and pressing me into his lower body. “You almost passed out on me half an hour ago, Mila. My cock is weeping for you right now, but there will be no sex until you are feeling better.”
“I am feeling better,” I kissed his jaw, nipping at his neck. “In fact, I feel amazing right now. Our first showdown with my dad went better than I could have hoped.”
Savoring Mila (Angels Halo MC Next Gen & Rockers' Legacy Book 3) Page 10
