Heart's Price (MxM)

Chapter 34

Freya's phone goes to voicemail and my brain locks up. I can't think of what to say, or how to say it, and after an awkwardly long pause, I hang up.

I spend the next ten minutes formulating the perfect script, call her back, get voicemail again, forget my lines, and leave a rambling, half-coherent message asking her to get in touch when she can.

Then I fall back on the bed again and close my eyes, not ready to face whatever's waiting for me downstairs, while at the same time trying not to think about Dane, and the look of anguish and regret I'd seen on his face as he'd looked down at me, the sting of his hand still sharp on my cheek.

It was the look of a man who knew he'd done wrong, but who couldn't admit it yet.

Maybe by the time he can, I'll be ready to listen.

My mind drifts, and without meaning to, I fall asleep.

A light touch and the tickle of long hair wakes me from my unintended nap. Ambrose sits beside me where I lay, leaning over to stroke the side of my face and looking down at me with a slight frown.

"That brother of yours is a right ass," he says. His eyes are dark with shadow and his shirt is open at the collar, revealing the smooth, pale skin of his throat.

I blink at him and sit up, alarmed by wild, half-formed thoughts of Dane as a smoking cinder.

"Don't worry, little wolf," Ambrose smiles, "I didn't avenge your slight. You can handle your own affairs well enough, I imagine. The good detective's made it quite clear he's taken a strong dislike to me, though, and I'm sorry you're the one to suffer for it. Next time you see him, you can tell him the feeling's mutual."

I rub my hands over my face, realize that no trace of my bruise remains, and that Ambrose must have healed me, and release a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

"Dane's a dick sometimes," I say, "but he's a good guy, really. He's just...going through some stuff with his mate right now."

"I gathered as much from the massive row they had in the hallway," Ambrose returns. "The only credit I can give your brother is that he made no attempt to hide what he'd done. He said he struck you in anger and 'said some shit,' and that he regretted it. Julian and I both went to look for you, but you'd already gone."

"I went to work," I say.

He nods. "I know. Julian asked me to let him be the one to go after you—said he needed to apologize for something—but he let me know you were all right once he had."

I release my breath in a sigh and cast a glance at the windows, seeing it's already full dark outside.

"What time is it?"

"Near eight."

"Who's here?"

"Everyone, I'm afraid." Ambrose grimaces. "Whatever else your brother may be, I must admit he is persuasive. He managed to convince—or perhaps frighten—the whole stubborn lot into following our plan. Even Mattie's here. They're all downstairs, waiting for dinner."

"Dinner?" I feel a prickle of alarm as I remember that the pantry is basically bare.

"Yes—it's a meal one eats, typically in the evening," Ambrose replies with a slight smirk, his eyes angled at my mouth. "Don't worry—Mattie's taken care of it," he adds, leaning a little closer.

I feel the heat coming off him, the natural warmth of his living body, and realize my own is quite cold from sleeping without a cover. A shiver convulses me as he brushes his lips across mine, and he pulls back with a searching look.