of “fashion.” She had never presented herself as anything other than exactly what she was, and he had loved her for that and so much more.
But what would have happened to them in the far future, as his much longer lifespan outpaced hers? And what of her family? He knew her parents had both passed—she had shared that with him during one of their quiet times—but surely she had friends. More distant members of her bloodline. Acquaintances.
As his mind churned over everything she would have had to give up to be in his world, he knew he was trying to find footing in the reality that they were not together.
Great loss, like death, required time to become real. The brain needed to get trained in the absence, the never again, the there-but-now-gone.
Emotions, after all, could be so strong that they could warp reality—not in the sense that mourning could resurrect what had been lost, but more like grief could sharpen recollection to such painful degrees that it was as if you could call the person to you, touch them … hold them.
The brain had to learn to accept the new reality.
Sarah, his love, was a human he could not have. She might as well have died.
And he should have taken her memories. That had been a mistake. She had weakened him with her logic, but he should have done the right thing even if she hadn’t wanted it.
Except Tohr was right.
Murhder’s nature was that of impulse, and it was because of this, as much as his insanity, that the Brotherhood had kicked him out: He had never bowed to even their loosest rules, even as he had fought beside them in service to the race.
He had been born a loner.
And he would die one, as well.
Sitting back in the spindle chair, the creaking wood was a loud, familiar sound in the silent attic and he reflected on how he had been right. When he had headed up to Caldwell, summoned by Ingridge’s letters, he had known he wasn’t coming back … that he was on his final mission.
His premonition had proven to be too right.
As a bonded male without his mate? He was dead, even as he had a heartbeat and could still draw oxygen.
The fate he had known was coming had in fact been realized. And as for committing suicide? Given how numb and cold he was … that seemed just plain redundant.
I thought this place was closed? Didn’t you see the news?”
As the Uber driver pulled up to BioMed’s gatehouse, Sarah sat forward in the backseat. “I used to work here. I have to be able to get in to pick up my car. They can’t just lock everything and walk away.”
“Did you hear what the guy did to himself?” The older woman made the sign of the cross. “My granddaughter showed me some pictures from the Internet. Who does that to themselves?”
“I can’t even guess.”
“Well … what do you want to do?”
There was clearly no one in the guardhouse, and it wasn’t like Sarah was going to climb up the gate’s fencing and pull a gymnastic move over all that barbed wire. And on the security note, she couldn’t see the complex from here, something that never had struck her as significant because hey, she’d always had her pass card and never spent any time parked at this entrance. But clearly, there was a rise and long drive for a reason.
Shoot. “I guess I’ll go back—”
“Someone’s coming up behind us.”
Sarah twisted around. It was an unmarked sedan. Dark gray. And she recognized the man behind the wheel.
“I know him. Gimme a minute?”
“Yup, sure thing.”
Opening her door, she got out of the Camry and was careful to show her hands as she walked forward. Special Agent Manfred immediately disembarked from his vehicle.
“Well, if it isn’t Dr. Sarah Watkins. You’re a hard lady to get ahold of.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“I’ve been calling your home phone. And your cell.”
Given that he worked for the frickin’ FBI, she figured it was stupid to ask him how he’d gotten the numbers. Besides, she had more important things on her mind.
Like whether or not he was going to arrest her for trespassing or something worse.
Except as she waited for him to Miranda her or something, he seemed content to wait for her to answer his implied where-have-you-been question.
Huh. Guess there weren’t any handcuffs in her future. At least not for this ten minutes.
“Again, I’m sorry I haven’t returned the calls.” She pointed to