All but blood kin.
There was no shared blood, only the shared bonds of friendship, battle and loyalty. She glanced at Thor with a sense of overwhelming sadness. They had those bonds, but how satisfying it would have been to have been on this small mission with Lawe. To see how he could handle the woman she truly was.
To have Lawe watching her back, sensing any dangers that would have come, riding the adrenaline high coursing through their bodies. To know, yes, they would die for each other, but that Lawe wouldn’t endanger himself for her needlessly or overlook the strengths she had.
As the first light of dawn rose in the sky, both Diane and Thor crouched in the continued shadow of the spear pointing toward heaven.
She tried to pretend it was Lawe at her back, but no amount of pretending, no bit of imagination could place him there when he wasn’t.
“Five minutes,” Thor said, his voice so soft it was barely a whisper. “She runs alone unless Isabelle and Chelsea Martinez accompany her. Isabelle is currently in residence at the hotel with Malachi Morgan. Chelsea and her father are staying in the Chief’s Suite at the Navajo Council chambers. All the members were called in just before you and Lawe arrived, from what I understand. I suspect it’s to discuss relocating the two girls and the Breed before they can be found.”
Diane shook her head. “They wouldn’t risk it.”
She glanced around, the ache in her chest intensifying, the regret and feeling of dread pulling her down as the knowledge that she was in this battle without the warrior whom nature had chosen as her other half tore at her heart.
She’d never ached like this when she and Padric had been separated by missions or wounds. She’d never felt hurt or anger when Padric had disagreed with her or when he’d refused to accompany her.
She didn’t like this.
Blinking rapidly, she fought the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.
This wasn’t mating heat. Mating heat was sexual. It was a blinding, overwhelming, uncontrolled hunger for a mate.
This was the pain, the aching loneliness and the certainty that no matter how she loved, no matter how miserable she was, Lawe would prefer that to ever seeing her fulfill the other hunger that drove her. The hunger for justice.
“Here she comes, boss.”
There she was.
Dressed in gray form-fitting jogging pants and a matching exercise bra. A gray headband wrapped around her forehead, while her long, wavy blond hair was pulled up into a ponytail that trailed past her shoulders. When free, her hair trailed to just above her hips in thick, silken locks.
Bound high at the back of her head now, the ponytail bounced, the waves of would-be curls dancing and gyrating like ribbons gone wild.
“Are we clear?”
“Clear,” Thor answered.
Holding the crouch, Diane sprinted from the shadow of the monument and moved in behind the other woman at a healthy jog to match. Thor, she knew, would stay hidden in the shadows, watching out for her, protecting her back.
Lawe should have been protecting her back.
As she came up behind Liza Johnson, she wasn’t in the least surprised when the other woman suddenly jumped to the side, twisted lithely and faced her at a crouch.
Diane came to a stop, her brow arching in mock surprise at the obvious training that had gone into the move.
“What do you want?” Gray eyes narrowed, her toned body tense and prepared, she stared back at Diane suspiciously.
“A nice jog?” Diane queried with a small smile as she crossed her arms over her br**sts and watched the young woman curiously.
She was damned delicate. For all the grace used to make that move, there was little muscle tone and even less strength in her small frame.
“You’re lying.” Clipped and clearly distrusting, Liza remained on guard as Diane faced her. “Now what do you want and why are you following me?”
“Who trained you?” she asked rather than answering the girl’s question.
“No one you know, I’m certain,” Liza sneered back. “Now what the hell do you want?”
Diane tilted her head, curious at the stance and the obvious fear of attack she could sense coming from Liza.