Chapter 10

Blake rolled over in bed and glanced at the clock—five p.m. He had slept away a good portion of the day.

His stomach rolled. It was tough being off heroin for any length of time, and as he checked his watch, his last hit had been about sixteen hours ago. His back hurt, and he felt like he had a flu-like fever.

Damn. He should have gotten another hit from Brandy before leaving her this morning.

He slipped on his cargo pants from the night before, ignoring the Ruger LC9 still in the pocket. Upon checking his mini-fridge, he saw he had nothing in there but Diet Sprite. He chugged a can and realized that in order to feel better, he would need something else, something a little bit stronger. After his meeting with Noah, he’d gone straight to his room and was able to sleep. Now, he needed something to numb the pain throughout his body.

Riding the elevator up to the kitchen level, he wondered what the odds were that he could get a bottle from the bar without running into anyone and came to the conclusion that his chances weren’t very good. The damn place was too crowded now with all the Warriors and their mates. Well, too crowded for him anyway. Everyone else seemed happy living in the domestic bliss they had created.

Bastards.

He stepped off the elevator and relief swept through him when he found an empty kitchen. Voices carried from the dining room, and he went into the great room. So far, so good—he’d gone undetected.

As he stood at the bar looking over his choices, a decision was hard to come by. Bourbon? Nah. Vodka? Maybe. He could mix it with orange juice and depending on how much he drank, he could call it a serving of fruit for the day. Wine? No, he needed something stronger.

He heard voices coming down the hall and recognized them as belonging to Annis and Liberty. Hell. He didn’t want to see either one of them, so he did what any mature thirty-five-year-old man would do; he ducked down behind the bar. He’d let them pass, and then he’d get back to figuring out which bottle of poison he would use to kill the pain in his body.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Liberty asked as they came into the room.

Annis sighed, a sound he’d recognize anywhere. His gut clenched as he sat down, and the gun in his pants poked his cock, and not in a friendly way. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled it out and set it down on the ground. He wondered how long he would need to sit behind the bar until he was discovered or Annis and Liberty left the room. He pulled up his knees, leaned his elbows on them, and rested his head in his hands.

“I think I’m pregnant, Liberty.”

Oh, fuck. Blake almost groaned out loud, but then remembered he was supposed to be incognito.

“That’s wonderful news!” Liberty squealed. Blake pictured her jumping up and down, grabbing Annis’s arm. “You are pregnant, or think you are? Because Beverly has these wonderful tests where you urinate on a stick and—”

“Yes, I’m aware of the tests,” Annis interrupted. “And I don’t know if this is wonderful news, as you put it. This is . . . unexpected.”

“It’s a beautiful surprise, Annis!”

Annis sighed again, and Blake heard the frustration in the small sound. He guessed the next words out of her mouth would be something along the lines of Annis considering herself a Warrior, not mother material.

“I’m a Warrior, Liberty,” she said. “I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a mother.”

How well he knew her.

“Nonsense! Have you told Cohen?”

“No. We practice birth control, but it has failed.”

“Oh!”

“I-I don’t think I want this child, Liberty,” Annis stammered.

Man, he really shouldn’t be listening to this conversation. It was doing nothing for his headache, and the images swimming in his brain of exactly how that child had been conceived weren’t doing anything for his sanity.

“What are you going to do?” Liberty asked, now sounding concerned.

“I don’t know. I think I may end the pregnancy.”

"Annis! I—”

“Annis?” Cohen called. “Where are you, babe?”

“Don’t say anything! I don't want him to know!” Annis hissed, then she yelled, “I’m coming, Cohen!”

Blake sat behind the bar for another minute to make sure the room was clear.

Annis was pregnant.

The knowledge felt like someone had taken an electric drill to his heart and had the thing set to high. Yes, Annis and Cohen were together, but apparently somewhere deep within him he thought that maybe, just maybe, in some distant time, Annis would be his.

A child growing within her—one that Cohen and she had created—just seemed to seal the deal that Annis would never be with him, that she would always belong to Cohen, whether she kept the child or not.

He turned his attention back to the array of bottles, deciding on his favorite whiskey. Standing, he made a beeline for the kitchen, hoping to once again avoid everyone. As he waited for the elevator, he heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see Killian.

“Hi, Blake,” he said. The kid pronounced his name "Bwake."

“Hey.”

“Can you get me a cookie?”

Usually, Blake would just get the kid a cookie and then leave him be. However, he heard more footsteps coming down the hall, and the door to the elevator opened. As he stepped inside, he said, “Sorry, kid. Gotta run.”

As the door shut, he heard Beverly say, “Come eat dinner, Killian.”

Leaning against the elevator wall, he pressed his thumb on the four button, hoping the elevator wouldn’t stop before his floor.

He really didn’t like kids, and he really, really hated the fact that Annis was pregnant. Tears stung his eyes as he unscrewed the bottle. Yes, it just seemed so final now. Annis was completely unattainable. He took a long pull, the auburn liquid burning the whole way down. He hoped it would set fire to the pain he felt for so long as far as Annis was concerned, but also the pain from his drug problem, burning it to ash.