cold towel over his slack features, inciting a frantic flailing of arms and legs until it slid off into his lap.
Dulled green eyes blinked open, regarding them with surprise. “Oh, hey. When’d you get here?” He glanced around in confusion, finally focusing on Max. “Where’s here?”
“LaRoche invited us to make sure you didn’t redecorate.”
“LaRoche?” He struggled to haul himself upright, comically tasting the aftereffects of the past hours lying bitter in his mouth. Then some awful truth settled like a load of concrete. “Oh, hell.” Elbows on knees, he dropped heavy head into hands.
Max and Silas exchanged worried glances. They’d been at Silas’s condo discussing the Terriot situation when LaRoche called Max after he couldn’t reach Rico. Silas had come along reluctantly, not sure what to expect. Certainly, not this.
“Colin?” Silas asked, as they settled on either side of him. “Does Mia know where you are?” When his head rolled a negative, he added, “Where’s Mia?”
“It’s not Mia.”
At that gruff mumble, Silas placed a firm hand on one slumped shoulder and repeated more forcefully, “Where is she, Colin?”
“What? Oh. With Dr. LaRoche.”
Max frowned. The strange quiver of apprehension returned. “Is she all right?”
“Follow up appointment.”
Relieved, he prompted, “So you came here to wait.”
“And get good and lit before driving her home.”
The Terriot prince didn’t respond to the tartness of Silas’ remark, not directly. “No.” Slowly, he straightened, letting his large form pour back against the couch, head thumping the one-way glass overlooking the bar area. His eyes closed. “It’s not Mia,” he groaned.
“It’s not,” Silas agreed, more charitably, to a degree. “None of this is her fault. Or yours. But she’s depending on you, so quit your damn whining and deal with things.”
A frighteningly lucid stare fixed on him. “She’s not Mia.”
Colin shoved the hand off his shoulder. “Whatever that thing is that’s in my house and in my bed is not my mate! I don’t know what they brought back but it wasn’t . . . It isn’t her.” Voice breaking, his fury fell apart the same dramatic way he was.
Silas quickly composed himself, trying to convince Colin to do the same with a soothing, “Maybe there’s a simple explanation.” When Colin held his stare without blinking, he reasoned, “What’s different about her?”
Colin knuckled bleary eyes. “Not everything. Not even most things. Just the ones I’d notice . . . when we’re alone.”
Was he talking about intimacy? Silas cast a “Help me out here,” glance at Max, but he was studying the glass tabletop, giving Silas no option but to proceed carefully. “She went through a terrible trauma. I’m sure Dr. LaRoche warned you that things might be a little awkward at first. Be patient and I’m sure she’ll respond—”
He flicked a dismissive hand, voice a growl. “I’m not talking about sex.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing eyes shut to concentrate. “It’s hard to describe. Her scent.” His gaze flashed up, high-beam bright. “Her scent is different.”
“The pregnancy—”
“No! It’s not a hormonal thing. It’s a bond thing. There’s something broken, something missing. Like we’re . . . strangers.”
Before Silas could speak again, Max put up a hand and leaned in. “What else is off?”
Startled then grateful for his belief, Colin considered the question for a long moment before murmuring, “Coffee. She’s drinking coffee. She hasn’t been able to since that first month. The taste, even the smell of it makes her sick, even if I’m the one drinking it.”
Max shrugged. “Pregnant women get strange likes and dislikes.”
Colin turned on him with a snarl. “Would pregnancy make her start rolling the toothpaste tube instead of squeezing from the middle? Make her sleep on the left side of the bed, with extra pillows? Straighten and pick up everything then put it in the wrong place.”
“Nesting . . .”
“No! Mia’s a slob, a lovely, maddening, card-carrying mess. It drove me crazy, picking up after her.” His eyes glittered with emotions quickly blinked away. “This—this imposter puts coasters under everything.” Seeing they weren’t convinced, he blurted, “A mated pair knows what one another wants. There’s no connection. We’re strangers. It was never like that with Mia. We were right, just right for each other. Whoever, whatever’s in that apartment, carrying my child, is not my mate!” He slumped, eyes closing again as if he couldn’t stand the sight of his own thoughts. “I wanted them back. But she’s not who came back to me.”
Which explained Max’s reaction back in the apartment.
Controlling his shock, Silas placed a hand on the broad