in satisfaction and patted Mila’s arm. “I will pack some of your things and bring them here.” She turned to Trey. “I want whatever information you have on creator of website. My brothers will make him pay—that I promise you.”
After accepting hugs from each of her pride mates, Mila followed them to the entrance of the dwelling and waved them off. She stood stiffly in Dominic’s arms, leaning against him as he held her tightly from behind.
He nuzzled her neck. “I know you’re pissed at me for asking you to stay. I don’t even blame you for it. But I can’t watch you get hurt again, Mila. I just can’t fucking do it.”
Thawing at the tortured note to his voice, she turned in his arms with a heavy sigh. “I know. But for someone who wants me to rest, you sure do keep me awake a lot. I’m not complaining, because your cock is rather outstanding when put to good use. I’m just pointing out the hypocrisy here.”
His mouth quirked. “This time, I won’t make any moves on you. I’ll just hold you while you sleep.”
“Or you could go do enforcer stuff rather than just lie there with me, bored out of your mind.” Not that it would be easy for her to drift off, despite how tired she was. She’d be on edge until Vinnie called her with news on Dean Simmons.
“There’s nothing boring about holding my mate. Besides, I like watching you sleep. You make the oddest expressions, kind of like your cat.” Linking their fingers, Dominic led her through the tunnels once more. When he was about to make the turn that would lead to his bedroom, a thought occurred to him. “You hungry? We didn’t eat the food Grace left for us.”
“A sandwich would go down nicely. I’m too tired to handle a big meal.”
“A sandwich it is.” Switching directions, he took her to the kitchen. Grace, Roni, Marcus, and Trick were gathered at the long table, their eyes locked on Roni’s cell phone. And every one of them looked close to cursing a blue streak.
“Tell me that’s not Emmet Pierson’s voice I’m hearing,” Dominic growled.
Roni tapped the screen of her cell, and the sound cut off. “I wish I could. We’re just watching footage from the press conference he held outside the police station.”
Dominic ground his teeth. “Let me see.”
“I’ll restart it,” said Roni. Dominic and Mila stood behind the others as the she-wolf played the footage from the beginning.
On the screen, cameras flashed and people shouted questions at Pierson. He stood tall, his expression solemn, his eyes cold. “My daughter did not try to kill anyone,” he asserted. “Did she hold the people in the barbershop at gunpoint? Yes. But it was only a replica gun. She used it to scare the woman who is trying to steal her mate. Was that a rational move? No. And it goes to show just what mental damage can be caused when a person’s mate abandons them. If you want to blame anyone for what happened, blame Dominic Black.”
Mila hissed. “Motherfucker.”
“People will tell you that Rosemary shot Mila Devereaux,” Pierson went on. “If that is true, where is Miss Devereaux’s injury? Oh, I’m sure the wolf will claim that his Alpha female healed the human, just as the police were told. But the truth is simple: Miss Devereaux wasn’t hurt at all, she was merely taken away so that the shifters could spin a story. Yes, the wolf would have his own true mate locked in a cell just so that he could be free to have fun with his tart. Anyone with any sense can see that truth. I hope all of you have such sense.”
Tart? Mila snarled. “God, I think the guy could twist just about anything.” Her gaze cut to Dominic. “Not that he’s done a good job of it. People aren’t likely to buy that your pack would go to that trouble just so you could sleep around. Reporters will want my side of the story now. And if I don’t give it, it’s as good as saying that his account is true.” Dominic had warned her that the media would latch on to it, but she hadn’t been so sure.
He smoothed his hand up her arm. “We can post a written statement on the pack’s blog, but it won’t be a response to this interview. That load of bullshit doesn’t deserve the credit of a response. It will just be your account