“Trying to think of a way to negotiate,” she murmured, falling backward onto the blanket and becoming hypnotized by the full moon above.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing, sweetie.” She laughed, but the humor never reached her eyes. “It’s just boring old human stuff.”
Tucker stared at her profile, thinking—not for the first time—that the light on the crown of her head made her look like an angel. “I love boring old human stuff,” he said, yawning. “Why does everyone complain about it?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not complaining.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’ll be as bored as long as I’m allowed.” Her eyes danced over his face. “Isn’t it ironic that, in the end, you’re the reason…” She tripped over her words and let them fade, shaking her head. “Let’s go bake Dad’s favorite, huh?”
Tucker was already on his feet. “I’m licking the spoon.”
Rising herself, Farah laid a hand on his arm. “Will you remember how to bake his favorite cake? Should I write it down?”
“Nah, I’ve got you to remind me, don’t I?”
Her smile wavered. “Y-yes. Of course.” With one last look at the sky, she chased him to the back door, their laughter winding its way toward the stars.
Tucker jerked into an upright position on the couch, the dream still vivid in his head for a few precious seconds, before it started to disintegrate. He clamped his eyes shut and tried to hold on, but it was useless and the sound of Farah’s voice was once again impossible to pull from his consciousness. He’d forgotten that night. It had melted into a collage with all of the others and painted over with a layer of white, barely able to see through.
Chapter 12
“Tucker,” called a soft, unfamiliar voice.
His warm laughter followed. He answered in an affectionate manner, but it was muffled, so Mary couldn’t make out exactly what was said. The conversation took place in dulcet tones, love between the two people not only understood, but celebrated. They were on one of side of a screen and Mary was on another, watching their outlines shift, changing shape as one. Together. Watching one shadow move toward the other. Embracing. A life being lived.
A cry of denial caught in her throat.
Mary woke with a start and sensed a presence in the bedroom.
She reached out with her mind and searched the air for Tucker’s signature, exhaling when she found it, solid and real. Watchful. Adoring. In her half-awake state, she started to reach for him. To beckon him closer. But her memory of the dream and her lingering jealousy rose like a sunrise, eclipsing her joy over being near him.
His mate.
In her dream, that’s who he’d been speaking to. An imaginary being that had felt all too real in her head. Was it absolutely crazy to be angry with Tucker over the dream?
Interesting how she cared very little if it was rational or not.
“I’ve decided we should finish the drive now.” Mary slipped out of bed and felt for her walking stick, her throat tugging when she found it propped carefully against the side table, left there no doubt by Tucker, the philandering jerk. “Take me to Hadrian.”
“What?” She heard a creak, as if he’d risen from a chair. “Mary…it’s too soon. We haven’t done even one of the things on your list yet.”
“It’s a silly list anyway.”
“No, it’s not. And…” Some papers rustled. “I spent the day mapping everywhere we need to go. A good neighborhood for trick or treating. The ear-piercing place. Which, by the way, is called Love Ur Lobes, so I can’t vouch for their professionalism. Did I wait too long to set this whole thing up? Is that’s what’s wrong?”
All at once, she felt terrible.
Tucker wasn’t off canoodling with some mystery woman—which wouldn’t be her business anyway—he’d been making them an itinerary. She almost wished he would do something to make himself seem less amazing, because ignoring her growing attachment would be so much easier. But nothing would combat her feelings except willpower.
And a rapidly narrowing timeline. It was Monday night. They only had until tomorrow, pursuant to her mother’s revised request.
“No, that sounds great.” His scent drifted closer and ridiculously, she stepped back. It wasn’t as if she’d be able to avoid it all night. They were going to be spending hours together, much of it in the enclosed space of the Impala. “Is Jonas still here?”
A glimmer of something she couldn’t quite read broke through his energy, so potent she didn’t even have to search his signature. Was it guilt? “No, he’s been gone a while.” His voice was tight. “Everything is fine. Just talking shop.”
It wasn’t fair for her to press for more details, even if she wanted to. She was helping to incite a war that would threaten Jonas’s claim to the throne. She should count herself lucky he’d done her no harm. Although, that wasn’t his modus operandi, was it? It was her future husband’s.