Aiden had always been the safe one. The planner. The strategist.
Only he didn’t want to be safe anymore.
If fate had handed him a second chance with Julianna, he was sure he wouldn’t hesitate to grab it with both hands.
So why was he hesitating with Ronan?
Was he afraid of being wrong and getting his heart broken all over again?
Or was he afraid of being right and getting everything he’d always wanted?
Chapter Seven
Ronan shuffled down the hallway to his hotel room, digging into his pocket for the plastic key card. The night wasn’t a total loss. He and Aiden had talked. They’d played. For the first time ever, they danced. He’d gotten to feel Aiden in his arms. Toward the end, Aiden had even relaxed against him as if he were enjoying it, drawing them just a tiny bit closer. There had been the most wonderful hints of the old Aiden. Bold and daring, cocky and playful. The man he’d fallen for so long ago.
And that dance! He should have done that when they were human. It probably would have gotten them both killed, but it would have been worth it. Holding Aiden so close, he saw in those warm, golden eyes hints that maybe all his old feelings for Ronan weren’t gone. Maybe Aiden could find a way to love him again. A few more minutes, he might have even gotten a kiss…until Ronan managed to fucking step in it with his big mouth.
Lesson one: Don’t talk about the woman.
At least not yet.
He’d wanted to explain that he wasn’t jealous. If anything, he wanted to get on his knees and kiss her feet for being there for Aiden. She had to have loved Aiden and made him happy, considering the devotion he still showed her. She’d given Aiden four amazing sons to fill his life and his heart.
If Aiden hadn’t found this Julianna Varik, what would have happened to him? There was a good chance Aiden wouldn’t have still been alive, and Ronan would never have found him. Ronan had seen it time and again in his long existence. If a vampire didn’t have something to devote himself to, to distract his mind, then he got careless. A careless vampire was a dead vampire.
Well, really dead.
Speaking of Julianna had also revealed a hint of the new Aiden. His friend had always been cautious, but there was a sharp fear in his eyes Ronan had never seen before. Aiden had suffered painful loss—with Ronan and Julianna. That pain was making him fearful of losing again. And he had a lot to lose when it came to his sons. Aiden wouldn’t do anything to risk that, but did it mean he was willing to walk away from Ronan to keep his family safe? It was something he would definitely need to consider when approaching Aiden again.
Their night might not have ended on the positive note Ronan would have preferred, but he was still here. Aiden hadn’t demanded that he leave his domain. Not that Ronan was entirely sure he’d leave even if Aiden asked. His old friend could be stubborn and short-tempered when pushed too far, but he always came to regret it later.
Of course, the key to their larger problem was convincing Aiden that he was trustworthy. That he didn’t have some secret motive that had to do with the European Ministry.
Maybe he should focus on getting the sons to trust him? They likely held some sway with Aiden. If he could get them to trust him, they could put in a good word for him.
Ronan stopped outside his door, the hallway completely silent at the late hour, and wrinkled his nose. Considering the little meeting held in his room earlier that day, he had a feeling that he had a much better shot of getting Aiden to fall in love with him again than convincing the Varik boys to trust him.
Unlocking the door, he halted just over the threshold as the scent of lavender hit his nose. Someone was waiting for him. But at least he knew exactly who this someone was. He’d been expecting this meeting, but not like this.
Swallowing an irritated growl, Ronan stepped inside and allowed the door to slam shut behind him. He shoved the card into his pocket as he walked down the short hall to find Mara seated in the chair positioned at the foot of the bed. Michael was standing with his back to the window, arms crossed over his chest like some angry