Page 86 of Deviant Knight

“Why did you break up with us, and why didn’t you tell me yourself?” Ciera drops her left hand from around the gun, then lowers the weapon to her side. Glancing down, I see her finger isn’t in the trigger well, so I remain seated instead of taking it from her. She’s continued to practice with my sister and Sienna, but that doesn’t mean she can’t make a mistake, especially when emotions are high, and it’s clearly written all over her face that she’s emotional and upset.

“Is that what you told her?” I ask, my question directed to Dom, who has yet to look at me.

“Among other things.” His dark orbs slowly ascend until they meet mine from where he stops behind Ciera. Swapping his glass to his other hand, he takes the gun from Ciera, shoving it down the waistband of his pants behind his back.

“Kitten,” I say, focusing back on her and not liking the look of hurt and confusion she’s wearing. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, uncomplicate it,” she demands. Like a whirlwind, she spins, pulls something from Dom’s pocket, then turns back around and tosses it to me. “Because I’m pregnant, and we’re having a baby.”

“Ciera!” Dom spits out. “What about not trapping him wasn’t clear?”

The white plastic stick lands between my legs, but I don’t have to look at it to know what it is. I heard what she said.They’re having a baby.

“Congratulations,” I bite out, the taste bitter across my tongue.

“Did you sustain a concussion recently?” Domenico asks in a tone that makes me think he’s serious.

“You may be above trapping him, but I’m not,” Ciera says over her shoulder to Dom. Turning back to face me, she plants her hands on her hips. “You really are thick. When I said ‘we’re having a baby,’ I was talking about all three of us, moron.”

“Wait. What?” Suddenly, all the air evaporates from my lungs as I stare at Ciera while feeling around my lap for that plastic stick thing. Locating it, I wrap my fingers around the thing and lift it out in front of me. My eyes dip and sure enough, it readspregnantin black print on the digital display. My wide gaze goes back to Ciera and Dom. “Whose baby is it?”

“Unless you have psychic abilities, we won’t know which one of us is the father until after he or she is born,” Dom enlightens me. “She isn’t having any unnecessary tests done, so we’ll both have to wait.”

I agree with him. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize Ciera or the baby.

This isn’t how I saw this day ending.

I walked away so that they could have each other and be happy.

But this changes everything.

Whether my DNA is intertwined with Ciera’s or not, that baby is mine. The little momma carrying him or her is mine too.

I fucked all of this up. It hurts to even look at Dom after what I said to him, but he knows me better than anyone. That may be my only saving grace with us.

Standing, I set my glass and the pregnancy test down on the coffee table and then step around it to where Ciera is positioned in front of Domenico.

I’m about to snatch my little kitten off the ground when Dom pulls her out of my reach. Then he steps into my space, getting damn near chest to chest.

“Just because she may be carrying your child doesn’t mean it changes anything.Youwalked out.Youchose to leave.Yousaid it was over.Again,” he growls.

“Domenico, stop it.” Ciera tugs on his wrist, but he doesn’t move from in front of me, nor does his eyes look away from mine. “You know he loves us, so can we please be back together now?” she pleads, and it’s cute.

“You’re a little presumptuous, kitten.” My gaze remains locked with his as I take in all the pain he’s revealing. His dark eyes hold me captive, letting me see the depths of his soul, the storm swirling inside the brown surrounding his pupils.

He wasn’t the only one I shredded with my words when I told him his love didn’t mean shit. In actuality, it meant everything. We’ve always shown each other our feelings, but we’ve never said them.

“Then tell me I’m wrong,” she challenges. “Say you don’t love us and we’ll leave.”

“You aren’t wrong, Ciera,” I admit to her and to him. My eyes begging him to believe me.

“Finally,” she says, and then slips the fingers of her right hand through my left ones while she stands beside both Dom and me.

“Not until he grovels,” Domenico seethes.

“I don’t grovel.”

Dom’s nostrils flare.

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