Even now, his broad shoulders and defined arms lit an undeniable heat low in her belly. She tried to look at his hands instead, but that was even worse. She couldn’t help remembering how those strong, callused fingers had caressed her inner thigh…
She swiveled on her heel, clearing her throat. “Will you please put some damn pants on?”
To her relief, she heard a rustle of cloth. She pretended an intense interest in smoothing out creases in her skirt, determinedly not looking.
When she risked a peek, Ash was sitting on the edge of the bed, buttoning his shirt. And he was Ash now. It was like he’d put on that still, silent persona along with the uniform. She couldn’t see Blaze anymore in his shuttered, frozen face.
Somehow, it was even more difficult to talk to him now that he was fully dressed. Sitting next to him on the bed would have been far too intimate, so she leaned awkwardly on her dresser instead. She folded her arms.
“If Corbin was still out there, why did you stay?” It came out aggressive, accusing. She didn’t care. “After going through all this to keep me safe, I’m surprised you risked hanging around.”
“I shouldn’t have.” Ash didn’t look at her, still concentrating—or, she suspected, pretending to concentrate—on doing up his cuffs. “But I found I couldn’t leave. Not again. I told myself that I wasn’t endangering you, not as long as I was careful not to get too close to you. None of the warlocks knew your name or appearance, after all. I tried to keep my distance from you so that even if I was being watched, the warlocks would have no reason to suspect anything.”
That’s why he’d kept his distance from everyone, Rose realized. Why he’d maintained a level of reserve even from Alpha Team. If he showed that he cared for anyone, the warlocks could have used them as a hostage.
“Do you think you are being watched?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. Otherwise I wouldn’t have…” He made a vague gesture, indicating both himself and her. Then he let out a short, ironic laugh, rubbing his forehead. “And quite likely would have gone another twenty years certain that I’d destroyed our bond past repair. I truly am an idiot.”
“We agree on one thing, at least,” Rose muttered.
“Rose.” He dropped his hands again, fists clenching. He looked at her at last, eyes burning with intensity. “What I did was unforgivable. I know that. But if there’s a chance, no matter how small, that it can be undone—”
His cellphone went off.
Rose had never heard Ash swear before. Even Chase would have been impressed by the way he blistered the air now. His hand automatically flew to his cellphone, but he checked himself before drawing it out of its holster.
“No, go ahead,” Rose said as he hesitated. She sighed. “I know that’s your work ringtone.”
He snarled out a last bitter profanity, but answered the call. “Fire Commander Ash.”
The words This had better been an emergency hung unspoken in the air. From the way Ash’s face went utterly expressionless, it was.
“Understood,” he bit off curtly. “On my way.”
“I take it something’s burning,” Rose said as he slid his phone back into his belt.
He nodded, standing up. “Apartment block. It’s giving even Alpha Team trouble.” He hesitated. “Rose—”
“Of course you have to go,” she interrupted him. She grimaced, pinching the bridge of her nose. She still had a literal headache from the new memories jostling for her attention. “And to be honest, I really need some space from you right now. You’ve had twenty years to come to terms with this. I haven’t.”
He let out his breath as if he’d been punched in the gut. Before she knew what was happening, she found herself pressed back against the wall by his hard, scorching body. His hand cupped the side of her face—infinitely gently, but with a leashed strength that took her breath away.
“I will never walk away from you again,” he whispered, lips brushing against hers. “Never.”
Then he was gone.
Our mate is gone. Her swan keened in grief. Not our mate, not anymore. Our mate is gone.
The room seemed suddenly cold and barren. She couldn’t bear to even look at the rumpled bed, let alone make it.
She fled to her living room, but that was just as bad. The two chairs opposite each other, the two empty glasses on the table, even the pictures on the walls…everywhere she turned, she was reminded of him.
Memories glittered in her mind, sharp and jagged, threatening.
“Tea,” she said out loud, to fight back the rising whispers. “That’s what I need. A nice cup of tea.”
That was what you did when the world was falling apart around you. You made tea.