Since he knew the club and the people there, it would be ideal if he accompanied them, but Dominic wouldn’t force him.
“Why do you want to talk to Kiev?”
Because instinct told him the siren was lying, or at least withholding information. “I just want to ask him some questions.”
Sammy frowned. “I can call him.”
“I’d rather talk to him in person.” He would learn more from body language and facial expressions than he could from word choice and tone. “You don’t have to go.”
“No.” Straightening, Sammy pulled his shoulders back and stiffened his spine. “I want to go. This is my mess to deal with.”
“Are you sure? No one will think any less of you.” And if they did, they’d keep their fucking opinions to themselves.
“I’d think less of me,” he responded flatly. “I appreciate everything you’re doing to help me. I can’t fight, but I can do this much to help myself.”
Dominic grinned and nodded his approval. “Then get ready. We’ll meet out front in a couple of hours.” He started to turn away but stopped himself and asked, “Have you eaten?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I mean—” For some reason, he looked wary about the concept of food. “I’m not really hungry.”
“You’re lying.” Badly.
Sammy huffed as he deflated like a party balloon. “Fine. Yes, I’m hungry, but I’m assuming we’re teleporting to Galveston.”
“We are.”
He nodded his acceptance of Dominic’s decision, but he couldn’t quite hide the wince that followed. “In that case, I’d rather not puke all over my shoes. They’re new.” His lipstwitched when Dominic snorted in amusement. “I promise I’ll eat when we get back.”
A sense of relief washed over him. Finally, a problem with a practical and immediate solution.
“I know it sounds counterintuitive, but you’ll actually feel less queasy if you have something in your stomach.”
Sammy studied him for a long time, his face etched with suspicion. “You’re messing with me.”
Dominic chuckled. “I mean, I wouldn’t recommend anything too heavy, but even some toast will help.”
Although he still didn’t look convinced, he nodded. “If you’re sure…”
Pleased that he’d chosen to trust him, even conditionally, Dominic smiled. “Get ready and meet me in the kitchen. I’ll make us some scrambled egg sandwiches.”
“I’d like that.” The sweetest smile spread across his face, but he still pointed a finger at Dominic’s chest. “But if I throw up—”
“I’ll buy you a new pair of shoes,” he promised.
Sammy laughed, the sound soft yet vibrant, almost musical. “Deal.”
It was the most relaxed Dominic had seen him, and he felt an odd sense of pride and accomplishment that he had been the catalyst. Wanting to end on a high note, he turned again, but he made it only a few steps before Sammy called him back.
“Special request?”
His mate laughed again and shook his head. “I just wanted to say thank you. For everything.”
Unsure how to respond, he dipped his head in acknowledgment, then strode away, a strange sensation fluttering in his chest.
Chapter seven
Arriving on a cracked and pockmarked sidewalk across the street from the Sky Lounge, Sammy grudgingly admitted to himself that Dominic had been right.
Oh, teleporting—orjumpingas his mate called it—still sucked. His head spun, and his legs wobbled, but it hadn’t been nearly as bad as the first time. He felt a little hiccup in his stomach, but nothing unmanageable.