He frowned at me over his own. “This being real means me having a difficult conversation and maybe a fistfight with Swiss.”
“A fistfight?” I gasped, almost choking on my coffee.
Elden shrugged. “A minor bullet wound, worst case scenario.”
“Explain to me aminorbullet wound,” I demanded, rather alarmed at the prospect. When I started thinking about the blood, Elden having a hole in him from a bullet, my stomach lurched, and I tried to climb off the bed.
He stopped me, gripping my hips. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to throw up,” I informed him sweetly while glowering at him. “Or would you like me to do it in your lap?”
Elden did not let me go like I wanted. Instead, he carried me to the bathroom.
My stomach turned as he set me down, but I managed to control it for the time being. “Leave,” I ordered weakly.
“Not goin’ anywhere.” He folded his arms.
I was going to argue with him, but my stomach didn’t let that happen. Therefore, I threw up in front of Elden as he held my hair off my face, rubbed my back and made soothing noises.
It might’ve been romantic if not for all of the vomit.
“You’re not supposed to be around for that,” I informed him after I washed my face and brushed my teeth, feeling a little more human, though my stomach had not entirely settled.
“Newsflash, baby, I’m gonna be here for this entire pregnancy and then some,” he replied, eyeing me with worry.
I pulled my hair up into a messy bun. Even though I’d just thrown up and didn’t have any of my skincare here to do a proper routine, I looked … good. My skin was clear, my cheeks flushed, my eyes were glowing to an almost bright violet. They got more vibrant when I was really happy.
My eyes met Elden’s in the mirror. “And then some?” I repeated, turning around.
His hands settled on my hips. He nodded, kissing my nose.
It was impossibly sweet and an act of affection that was unfamiliar with us and gave me butterflies that had nothing to do with morning sickness.
I was going to prod him as to what exactly that meant, if it was the declaration of forever that it sounded like. Last night had been suspended from reality. Yes, there were all of the ‘I’m yours’ promises, but what did that really mean? Marriage? A house? Matching tattoos? There were many questions I needed to ask.
But there was a commotion coming from the common room, meaning no time for questions.
For the commotion to filter all the way back here from the common room, it must’ve been something intense.
Elden was on guard in a second, the sweet man who’d kissed my nose nowhere to be found. Instead, it was my biker, badass, baby daddy who was now holding a gun.
I’d seen Elden’s gun before. He wore it in a holster underneath his cut. We’d even had sex while he was still wearing it, which I’m pretty sure wasn’t safe at all and turned me on way too much for someone who was passionate about gun control.
I’d never seen Elden holding a gun, preparing to use it, though. “Stay here, lock the door,” he ordered.
“I fucking mean it,” he clipped out when I opened my mouth to argue with him. Then he was out the door.
Though I probably should’ve listened to Elden due to the criminal nature of the Sons of Templar and the various threats they could be facing at any given moment, all I could think about was the ‘minor bullet wound’ comment.
I shoved on my sundress from yesterday and poked my head out of the door. There were no sounds of fists thumping against fists or even gunshots.
But I saw something that did reassure me that Elden was not going to get shot. At least not yet.
I rushed forward to see Elden standing in the corner of the room, his arms crossed and his gun nowhere to be seen.
She obviously hadn’t seen him because she was arguing with Colby.
“I will ask for the fourth time, who are you?” Caleb demanded. He had his hands on his hips, facing off against the 5′5′′ spitfire in bright pink Valentino platforms.