Page 88 of The Bodyguard and the Alpha
My breath caught in my throat. Choice. It was the first time anyone offered me a choice since my power came in. Of course, he sensed the sudden bloom of emotion in my chest.
Baby, I promise I’ll make this right.
You have made it right. Already. I let him feel my gratitude.
I can’t fucking wait until I’m out of here. It was a growled promise.I don’t deserve you, but you’re mine.
And I’m yours. I don’t care where we go, but I’ve always dreamed about a quiet life. Maybe in the country. Where I didn’t have to use my magic.
Before he could tell me that it was just a pipedream, because, hello, he was the President and I knew that he would claw his way back to his position, I added,But I know that’s not realistic with your job, so it’s okay. Just, while we’re sharing… you know… I thought you’d want to know.
Would you be happier if I wasn’t President?
I didn’t know how to answer. He’d know if I lied. If I said that I would be happier. But I knew that being President was his calling. His efforts in keeping the radical factions from tearing out each other’s throats, and having that violence spill into the community, was critical. I couldn’t tell him the truth. I couldn’t ask him to walk away from politics for me.
So, like a coward, I deflected. And the best deflection was always an outright offensive.Two nights’ time, we’re going to break you out.
Don’t even think about it. You’re keeping your cute little ass in the Palace till I’m out.
I made sure that my satisfaction didn’t flow down the bond. That did the trick nicely.Think again, big guy. I’m no Princess in a tower, and you can’t stop me.
Luc will stop you.
This time I did laugh.Luc will help me.And so will your parents.
His displeasure rolled over me.I want you to be safe.
I shrugged it off.And I want you to be alive.
That had been enough to make him subside. Despite his dissatisfaction simmering down the bond, he’d begrudgingly agreed that his chances were better if he accepted help.
The morning sunlight grew brighter. Taking a deep breath, I acknowledged that it was time to get out of bed. Today we would work out a plan for springing my mate from prison. We still needed a lot of information. The number of guards on duty. Their locations. Where Bastien was being held in the prison.
So many things could go wrong. But with back up from Bastien’s family and my sister, whose magic was strong even though she wasn’t fully trained, we had a lot of power at our disposal. Logic told me that we had a good chance. But ultimately, it wasn’t logic that was keeping me going. Since I’d woken, my pre-cog remained quiescent. That, more than logic, was the thing stopping me from freaking out. My instincts, my magic, knew this was the right course of action.
Throwing off the covers, I crossed the room to the attached bathroom. It was time to get this show on the road.
After my shower, as I stood in the closet, looking at the selection of clothes Bastien had arranged for me, a flip of guilt turned my stomach. I still hadn’t confessed to the whole impregnation plan. I should just tell him.
I’d almost blurted it out, down the bond last night, when he’d told me he was going to fill me with his cum, but I’d lost my nerve.
We’d only just got to some semblance of stability in our relationship and we had enough to deal with already. Telling him I could be pregnant could only distract him; whether the news was welcome or not.
One thing at a time. And the chances he’d made me pregnant after one time weren’t high. As much as I hoped it could be true. Wistfully, I caressed my flat stomach.
What was that?
What was what? Crap. Had he heard my thoughts?
Chapter 75
Bastien
I lay on the cot in my cell, counting the bricks on the wall for something to do. I’d been awake for hours, full of nervous energy. I was ready to get out of here now. But my mate was right. I could get out of here by myself, I had no doubt of that. But we needed more of a plan than that. We needed transport. Fake IDs and money. A place to stay. My brother could organise that for us, if I gave him time to do his job. To burn off some of the energy, I’d spent the first couple of hours doing a range of exercises. Push ups, sit ups, planks. I’d lost count of how many I’d done. When I got bored with that I ran on the spot.
As I ran, I had mentally reviewed the conversation we’d had after our long-distance sex. She would like to live in the country. A quiet life, she’d said, before telling me that she understood that her wishes weren’t compatible with my job. Fuck my job. I’d always thought that being President was the pinnacle of everything I had ever wanted. But the moment I’d bitten my little Pixie, my priorities had changed forever. I’d given myself to my country for years. I didn’t need to do it anymore. If my mate didn’t want me to be President, the solution was simple.
Feet drumming on the concrete floor, I realised my clever little mate had outmanoeuvred me. When I’d tried to push her, to have her tell me what she wanted; not what she thought I wanted to hear, she’d distracted me. Masterfully.
