Page 81 of Seeking Two Lovers

“How was work?” I asked, popping his plate into the microwave.

“Long. Tiring. Think I’m gonna soak in the tub for an hour. Is that spaghetti?”

“Homemade sauce too.”

“Fuck, do I love you.” Groaning, he sank into a seat at the table. I grabbed a glass and the bottle of Jameson he kept on the counter.

I enjoyed taking care of him in smaller ways around the house. It was the least I could do considering all he’d done for me.

“Why don’t you have a glass of wine and join me.” Grey didn’t ask a question, and his tone hinted at a neediness I’d never heard from him before as I set his dinner in front of him.

Tension rose inside me, but I did as told, a half-glass of chardonnay in my hand. My stomach soured, so I didn’t bother taking a sip, simply watching Grey eat a few bites in silence.

“Grey,” I pushed when I couldn’t stand not knowing what was up.

He rubbed a hand over his scruffy jawline, weaseling his fingers behind his head to undo the ponytail holding back the top portion of his longer hair. Sun-highlighted golden waves fell around his face, and I tightened my grip on my glass’s stem when the sudden desire to touch rushed through me.

Lily had definitely opened something up inside me, a desire to cross barriers I’d never considered before. I should have been disgusted, angry with her…

I just longed for her all the more.

Only three bites put away, and Grey pushed his plate aside, going for his whiskey. He downed it in one shot.

Shit.

I swallowed hard, my insides stilling, the hairs on my nape rising.

“After that news clip sent you spiraling last week, I called a private investigator back east.”

My breath held, my mind whirling over his hesitancy, his inability to meet my eyes.

“Why?” I managed to whisper.

“I had him look into the cult’s activities.” Grey finally lifted his focus off the table, head barely tipped up to peer at me beneath his furrowed brow. “Those boxes are still in the village’s center. Still put to use.”

“H-how did he…”

“Drones.”

I nodded absently, hating confirmation that the cult still survived. “Quill?” I forced the fucker’s name out.

“Alive and kicking, unfortunately.” Grey leaned onto the table, palm once more upright and beckoning as though he could literally see the goddamn darkness once more pressing upward to drag me down.

I slid my hand into his—gratefully and gladly, the dampness from nervousness wet between our skin. “What else?” I asked, barely any tone to my voice at all.

“It appears his wife has been either banished or passed.”

“Good fucking riddance,” I muttered with a shudder, hoping she rotted in hell.

“Quell has been seen walking around with another woman.” Blue eyes bore into mine, and I knew before he fucking stated the words.

“No.” I yanked my arm, but he tightened his hold on my hand, refusing to release me.

“She’s pregnant, Blaine.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

No…no fucking way.

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