He had been reaching out desperately, trying to see how the woman he loved was doing. But the temporary strengthening of the partial bond between him and Samantha seemed to have faded and now he couldn’t feel her at all.
The look on the human doctor’s face was grim, causing his heart to nearly stop in his chest.
“I’m sorry, Commander,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. “But I’m afraid it’s still touch and go at the moment. Her trachea was partially crushed—it’s a miracle she was still alive when you brought her in. I can tell you that Commander Sylvan and Yipper, our Tolleg surgeon, are working as hard as they can to save her and you couldn’t ask for two finer doctors to be operating on your wife. Or, er, your…”
She trailed off helplessly, obviously not sure what relationship Samantha had to him.
No relationship, Roark thought, angry with himself all over again. She has no relationship to me and that’s my fault. She’s not even my employee anymore, since I fired her.
But there was more to consider than Samantha and himself.
“And the babies?” he asked tightly. “The twin girls? Are they…?” He shook his head, unable to ask the question.
“We’re monitoring them—they’re still very small,” Liv told him. “As far as we can tell, they’re okay.”
Well, that at least was a relief, Roark thought. Though of course, he was still more concerned about Samantha than anything else. Samantha who had nearly died because, in trying to run away from him, she had run straight into the arms of her stalker.
“This is my fault,” he said in a low voice, looking down at his hands. “I’m to blame for all of it. If I hadn’t hurt her and sent her away she never would have gone down to Earth and been attacked. Gods, I hate myself.”
“Don’t say that.” Liv squeezed his arm. “We’ve all done stupid things—I told you my own past history with my husband, Baird.”
“Stupid is one thing. Cruel and unethical are something else entirely,” Roark said fiercely. “I haven’t treated Samantha the way a male should treat a female from the first. I used my past pain as an excuse but there is no excuse for the way I acted.” He shook his head. “If she lives, the kindest thing I can do is leave her alone.”
“Do you think that’s what Samantha would want?” Liv asked quietly. “Maybe she just wants you to love her and treat her right. Maybe—”
But just then a nurse put her head in the door and said, “Doctor Liv, we need you in triage!”
“Coming!” Liv gave Roark’s arm another quick squeeze. “Hang in there. I’ll come back and let you know the minute anything changes.”
Then she was gone, leaving Roark to pace back and forth, his arms behind his back, his head bowed and his brow furrowed with self-hate.
What he’d said to Liv before she left still resonated in his mind.
Leave her alone—I should leave her alone. She doesn’t need someone like me in her life. She’ll probably never want to see me again after the way I acted. But we still have the partial bond. Even though it’s not as strong as it was, it’s there, tying us together. What can I do about that?
Suddenly an idea popped into his head—an obscure religious rite that he’d read about, which was hardly ever performed.
“A Blood-Letting Ceremony,” he murmured to himself. “A Severing—that’s what I should do.”
It wouldn’t dissolve the partial bond—nothing could do that. But it would formally free Samantha of him and absolve her of any need to ever speak to him again.
Just thinking about it made Roark’s heart ache. But it seemed like the right thing to do—to set the woman he had wronged so horribly free. He would still help to raise the twins, of course—if she wanted him to. If not, he would simply pay to support them.
And Samantha would never have to see him again.
“Oh please,” he muttered. “Just let her live and I’ll set her free—I swear I will. Though it will be like carving my own heart out with a knife, I’ll let her go and never see her again. Please.”
It was half prayer, half oath and as he spoke it, Roark felt a cold chill rush through his entire body. His vow, now spoken into the universe, could not be rescinded.
Suddenly, all strength left him and he had to stagger over to one of the chairs and drop into it, as his legs lost their ability to hold him up.
Bending low, he hid his face in his hands. Hot tears stung his eyes and a sense of complete hopelessness came over him.
“Samantha,” he muttered, his voice low and choked. “Oh Gods, Samantha—even if you live, I’ve lost you.”
Fifty-Nine
“Don’t try to talk,” a voice said the minute Sammi opened her eyes. “Your throat was badly injured in the attack and you’re still recovering.