“What are you going to do?”
Serra shrugged. “What I should have done a long time ago.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“I’m going to find a man who isn’t afraid to love me.”
It was a promise that Serra had made a dozen times before, but this time there was no mistaking the grim sincerity in her voice.
Callie gave a slow nod. “If you need me—”
“I know.” It was Serra’s turn to give her friend’s fingers a comforting squeeze. “I’ve always known.”
“Good.” Callie took a step back, continuing to keep a worried gaze on Serra’s face. “Come to dinner tonight.”
Serra forced a teasing smile to her lips. “And watch you make goo-goo eyes at Duncan? No thanks.”
“Goo-goo eyes?”
Serra gave a dramatic shudder. “It’s sickening.”
“Okay, okay.” Callie gave a small chuckle, then her smile slowly faded. “Serra, I don’t want you to be alone.”
“I won’t. At least not for long,” she swore, abruptly deciding she needed more than tequila to improve her dark mood. “I have a new pair of Fendi boots that are just dying to go out dancing. I intend to oblige them.”
Callie hesitated, as if weighing her chances at insisting that Serra spend the evening in the protective custody of her and her new husband. It took only one glance at Serra’s stubborn expression for her to accept defeat.
“Arel’s here,” she instead murmured.
Serra’s smile became genuine.
Despite her pitiful love for a man who barely noticed her, Serra had occasionally sought out a partner who could help to ease her aching loneliness. Why not? It wasn’t as if Fane gave a shit what she did.
And Arel had been her favorite.
The hunter Sentinel was not only a charming companion, but he was a lover who understood exactly how to please a woman.
“Yes, I saw him earlier,” Serra said, recalling a brief glimpse of Arel as she’d entered the gym. He was looking as fine as ever. “This might be his lucky night.”
“Good.” Callie brushed a quick kiss over Serra’s cheek before she was heading out of the kitchen. “Just remember, my door is always open.”
Serra waited until her friend had left the apartment before she aimlessly returned to the living room.
If she truly intended to go out for the evening she needed a shower and some quality time spent on her mani-pedi, but she found it nearly impossible to stir up the necessary enthusiasm.
With a grimace, she instead reached to pluck the forgotten package off the table. Maybe her parents’ gift would lift her drooping spirits.
Untying the bow, she made swift work of the wrapping paper to find a flat jewelry box. She smiled. Her mother knew how she loved her bling.
Almost as much as she loved designer footwear.
Flipping off the lid, she felt an odd chill inch down her spine as she reached for the silver locket that was snuggled in a square of cotton.
A frown touched her brow. The simple heart-shaped necklace wasn’t really her style, which was strange, considering her mother usually knew her so well.
She pulled the locket from the box and studied it in confusion. Maybe it was a family heirloom, she at last decided, running a finger over the edge of the locket to search for the latch that would open it. Didn’t lockets usually have pictures inside? There. She felt the tiny lever and pressed it. But instead of popping open, the stupid thing poked a hole through her skin.
With a hiss she stuck her finger into her mouth, sucking the drop of blood that welled from the tiny wound.