Mila.
His chest heaving, his muscles quivering, his body sore in too many places to count, Dominic pushed his way out of the fog of fury and really looked at the male beneath him. The cheetah’s face was . . . well, it was a fucking mess. Bloody. Puffy. Almost purple. His nose was broken, his eyes were swelling, and his cheekbone looked fractured. Tate was right. The asshole was out cold.
Standing, Dominic stepped over the cheetah and swept his gaze over the pallas cats. They were all watching him as you would a rabid animal, and he couldn’t really blame them.
Vinnie took a slow, nonthreatening step toward him. “We have this, son. Go to Mila.”
Flexing his aching fists, Dominic gave a curt nod. “If he has anything helpful to say, I want to hear about it.”
“You will,” Vinnie told him. “Let Sam heal you before you go.”
A male took a cautious step toward him and reached for Dominic’s arm, but he didn’t touch him. He waited for Dominic’s nod before placing his palm on Dominic’s forearm. A surge of power crackled through him. Unlike Taryn’s energy, it wasn’t so much soothing as it was jolting.
Giving the healer a nod of thanks, Dominic rolled back his shoulders. The aches and stings had vanished, leaving only the lethargy that came from an adrenaline crash.
Satisfied, Dominic turned back to the fire escape and descended the ladder. A police car was parked on the road, and two uniformed cops were talking with the human woman whose toddler had been briefly used as a hostage. Some people were snapping photos of her while others were trying to get a good look at what was happening on the roof. From there, they couldn’t see shit, which was good.
As he crossed the street, he saw Mila standing just outside the grocery store, surrounded by a small cluster of her pack mates, including her parents, Ingrid, and motherfucking Joel. She shouldered her way through them and went to Dominic. Locking one arm around her, he palmed the back of her head as he pressed a kiss to her hair. He breathed her in, let the scent and feel of her pour into him and steady his wolf.
She pulled back, as if worried she’d hurt him, but he held her tight. “Shit, GQ, you have blood on—”
“I’m fine. Sam healed me. I was just a little banged up. I’ve had worse.”
“Did you get the asshole?” James asked quietly. “We couldn’t see what was going on from down here.”
“Vinnie and the others have him,” replied Dominic. “He’s out cold, but not dead.”
“He soon will be,” Valentina vowed, stroking her daughter’s hair.
Dominic flicked a brief glance at the police. “Will I need to give a statement?”
“No,” said James. “Those particular cops are part of our pride. They’ll put a nice story together. Probably to the effect that the asshole was chased out of the store for shoplifting, and that a bunch of people tried catching him but failed. He was simply too fast, and so he was probably a shifter.”
“He was a cheetah. Must be handy having some of your pride mates in the police,” Dominic mused.
“It is at times like this,” said Ingrid. “How else do you think our species managed to stay under the radar? We have plants in many places.”
“Take Mila home, Dominic,” Valentina told him. “I will get her groceries and bring them to her.”
Eager to get out of there, Dominic hiked Mila up his body and pulled her legs around his waist.
She frowned. “I can walk.”
“Don’t care.” He started for the apartment building, but then Joel slipped into his path. His wolf bared his teeth. “Not now,” Dominic gritted out. He didn’t even want to know what the male wanted; Dominic needed him gone.
Joel’s jaw hardened. “But I think Mila should—”
“Not. Fucking. Now.” Dominic shrugged past him and carried her to the building. He didn’t put her down until they were in the bathroom of her apartment, where they stripped off their clothes.
Standing under the hot spray, they soaped each other down. Her touch was gentle and soothing as it washed the blood from his skin, but he was soon rock fucking hard. With the adrenaline still in his system and his fear for her safety still fresh, he soon had her pinned against the tiled wall as he powered in and out of her.
No sooner had they dried off, her parents appeared. Valentina fussed over them and put away groceries while James fielded calls from anxious pride members, assuring them that Mila was fine and just needed some rest and privacy. After talking Mila into canceling her upcoming performance at the Velvet Lounge that night, Dominic called Trey, gave him a rundown of what had happened, and promised to keep him updated.
Vinnie, Tate, and Luke later made a brief appearance, checking on Mila and relaying that the cheetah was now very much dead and hadn’t known anything more about the bounty than the jackal or snake shifter had. No surprise, really.
Valentina cooked Dominic and Mila a meal and then, wanting to give them time alone, went home with James. And now, as they ate at Mila’s small dining table, Dominic couldn’t help replaying the earlier incident over and over in his mind. He kept remembering the incapacitating fear he’d felt when Mila had become deadweight in his arms, kept remembering how her lips had turned blue and how her heartbeat had slowed and faltered.
He hadn’t felt that kind of fear in . . . well, ever. It was the fear of losing something essential to you. Something you knew you wouldn’t be happy without.
And that fucking terrified him.
He’d known he cared for her, known she was important to him. But he hadn’t realized that he’d come to need her. Hadn’t thought she’d dug her way that deep inside him. Oh, he’d figured she might burrow her way there someday, but not so damn soon.
Dominic had avoided putting too much thought into what might lie ahead for them, but he had believed everything would move at his pace. He figured that if she did get past his defenses, he’d be in control of when it happened. He thought she’d only get there if he consciously opened the door wide enough.
He was wrong.
She’d somehow made herself indelible. Wasn’t quite inside his protective walls, but she had wedged her way through a crack she’d made in them. And now he felt . . . threatened. Which was stupid. But not one single soul had ever made themselves essential to him. Not one. He wasn’t sure he liked it. Every self-protective instinct he had was telling him to leave.
Maybe one night apart wouldn’t hurt. They were constantly in each other’s space, and that wasn’t always healthy, was it? It would probably do them both some good for him to—
“You’re quiet.”
The flatly spoken observation cut into his thoughts, snapping him to the present. She was staring at him, her gaze far too perceptive, too knowing.
Feeling uncomfortable and exposed, Dominic picked up his glass. “It’s not good to talk when I have food in my mouth.”
“You want to leave, don’t you?” The accusation was soft. Empty of resentment or judgment.
Shit. He sipped the wine that Valentina had poured. “Why would you ask that?”
“It wasn’t really a question. Your muscles are bunched tight. Like someone coiled to spring . . . or to jump up and run.”
He arched a brow at the taunt. “I don’t have reasons to be tense, considering the day we’ve had?”