Page 41 of Fangs
“I don’t think so,” he replied, but his voice stayed calm.
“What’s wrong?” Wolf’s sharp voice cut through the quiet.
“Ember’s sick,” Kai said from the porch.
“Why?” Wolf snapped, sounding closer.
I stayed bent over, my hair hiding my face as I struggled not to cry, spitting bile into the snow.
“Not sure,” Sable answered.
Wolf’s boots came into view, but I stayed leaning over, trying to hide behind my hair. This was so much worse than when Trey and Sam saw me get sick.
“I showed her my scar,” Sable said in a low voice. “She recognized it.”
“How?” Wolf asked sharply.
“That’s what I want to know,” Kai muttered.
“She said she didn’t work for him,” Sable added.
There was no doubt in my mind now they would know the Reapers and my anxiety grew at the thought of Wolf finding out where I’d been all these years. I hated that a part of me still didn’t want my brother to be ashamed of me. He already thought I murdered Dune—that I was a monster—so I didn’t understand why I cared.
A hand grasped my other arm and pulled me upright to face Wolf. He frowned, but I could almost believe he looked concerned.
“What’s wrong? Why are you sick?” he demanded.
“I’m fine,” I choked out.
His eyebrows nearly touched his hairline. “Are you fuckin’ serious?”
“This, my friend, is called karma.” Lee sounded far too cheerful, and someone snorted a laugh.
“Shut it, Lee,” Wolf responded. “All of you, go inside. We’ll be right there.”
“You sure?” Scar asked.
“Yeah,” Wolf’s voice sounded strange.
I glanced at him to find him staring at me with a grave expression. He waited until the rest of his crew filed inside and shut the door before he released my arm. I wrapped my arms around my torso, my stomach in knots. I had no idea what he was going to say.
Wolf ran a hand through his hair, opened his mouth, then closed it. He took a deep breath and tried again. When he spoke, he sounded awkward but jarringly gentle at the same time. “Em, are you pregnant?”
I blinked stupidly at him, so taken aback by the question I forgot to answer for a moment. His brow creased in concern.
“No!” I blurted out. Trey and I hadn’t used protection, so I had wondered, but I’d bled about a month after Trey’s death. It was strange to grieve someone who never existed, but I had.
He stared at me, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “You can tell me. I just…I just want to make sure you’re alright.”
That hurt worse than anything he’d said or done so far because he actually sounded like my brother again. I thoughtthisWolf—the one who cared about me—died on the rooftop with Dune. To my horror, tears filled my eyes.
“I’m not pregnant,” I whispered.
“Why are you sick, then?”
I squeezed my arms tighter around myself, trying to hold myself together. “I’m not sick, I’m just—” Whatwaswrong with me? I realized I had no idea what to say. “I justgetsick sometimes.”
“Why?”
