of the female who came here to tell me about Isobel—the one who I . . . buried my sister with. Anyway, I private-messaged her. And then I decided, why stop there? I hit up everyone who left a tribute for my sister.”
“Did any of them get back to you?”
“Some did.” There was a pause. “I asked them all about the boyfriend. A name. Contact info. Possible location.”
Boone forced his voice to stay level. “Did any of them know him?”
“No. They’d heard about him, but no one knew him or had met him.” There was a pause. “And no one has seen or heard from him since, either.”
Boone tried to keep his curse to himself. “Maybe there’s a reasonable explanation.”
“I really used to think there was.” She sighed. “But if he’d been abusive . . . I just don’t know why Isobel would have lied to me? And I know what I saw here in this apartment. I lived with her my whole life, I could read her better than anyone could. She was happy.”
All Boone could do was shake his head. He wanted to step carefully around the subject of that boyfriend out of respect for her and her Isobel, but damn, his warning bells were ringing: Even if her sister had been happy, males sometimes snapped. Hello . . . he himself had tonight in that alley.
“We need to keep digging,” he said. “What about the female who came to see you? Did she answer?”
“No. Not yet. And as with a lot of people in the species, she’s clearly using a pseudonym. So I don’t know what her real name is.”
As a shiver went through her, he lifted his head and eyed the quilt that had been pushed off onto the floor. “You cold?”
“I don’t know what I am,” she said with exhaustion. “What I do know for sure is that I’m glad you’re here.”
They were quiet for a while, and Boone passed the time attempting to control the twitching of his thigh muscles. And his legs weren’t the only thing wide-awake. He was totally erect again, his arousal straining, his blood thickening in his veins. But whatever, Mr. Happy down there could fuck right off with the bright ideas. Sex was the last thing on Boone’s mind, even if it was the first thing on his libido’s agenda. He had worn his female out enough, and hopefully, with the Virgin Scribe’s blessings, they would have so many more days and nights together to look forward to.
“Your friends really like you a lot,” she said.
“I like them a lot, too.” He tried to get his mind focused on something . . . anything. “You should meet everyone else in my trainee class. At least twice a month we all go out together. I’ll find out when the next time is and let you know—and I’ll make sure that I don’t miss it.”
“It makes me happy when you talk about the future.”
On that note, there was a temptation to ask if he could move in, given that he wouldn’t have a place to live in fourteen days—and then maybe he could make a joke about how’s that for the future. But he stayed quiet on his drama. She had enough going on—
“Would you care if I were poor?” he blurted.
As Helania looked over at him and they were face-to-face, he figured this was the very definition of pillow talk.
“I didn’t know you were rich,” she said. “I mean, I’d guessed you were a member of the aristocracy by your accent, but I hadn’t really considered the financial repercussions.”
He squeezed her hand again. “Would you, though? Care if I didn’t have money?”
“Not in the slightest. I’ve never known what it’s like to be wealthy. So if you are not, it doesn’t change my situation in the slightest, and I’m happy where I am now.”
As Boone exhaled in relief, he was not surprised that her answer meant that much to him. “I’m so glad. Most of the females in the glymera are more interested in expense accounts and credit cards.”
“Your arranged mating.” She hesitated. “Why exactly did the female break it off?”
As Helania seemed embarrassed to have asked, Boone smiled in hopes of reassuring her that no subject was off-limits. “It wasn’t an issue of money. She was in love with someone else. That’s why. And guess what, he was a civilian, too. You’ll meet Rochelle someday. She’s remarkably down-to-earth considering