She hesitated, likely debating proper social protocol.
While she racked her brain for an appropriate response, I took her glass and poured her a second drink. I handed it back with very little fanfare, then strode across my office to the window. With my back turned, it gave her the privacy to devour the drink without an audience.
Yes, I believed I was starting to understand Miss Laurent very well.
A few moments later, she crossed the room and came to stand beside me. Close enough that her arm brushed mine. I shot her a side glance but quickly turned my focus back to the view outside my window, lest I frighten her away.
“That tower,” she said. “It glowed purple the night I arrived. Now, it’s red. Is there a significance to that?”
“Has Miss Wolfe not explained the significance of the clock tower to you?” I asked.
Isadora shook her head. “She’s been too busy introducing me to the townsfolk and working on mock-ups for the bar.”
Ah. They were full business partners then. Another detail to file away.
I lifted my glass and gestured toward the tower. “The Luminara Clock Tower,” I told her. “The colors reflect the state of the town. Much like any security system, red means danger.”
She shot me an alarming glance, and I gave a sage nod.
“Would it be naïve of me to hope its current color has nothing to do with me?”
“Not naïve, no,” I said, disliking the self-deprecation in her tone. “Optimistic, perhaps. I will say that I haven’t seen it this red in a long time. I think it would be foolish of us to assume this has nothing to do with you.”
I placed my glass down on a nearby table, then turned to face Isadora. It was time to address the oversized elephant in the room. “In my four centuries of life, I have experienced many things. And I can unequivocally tell you that when someone shreds another person’s clothes and possessions, it’s deeply personal to an unsettling level. I can’t imagine you’ve had time to offend anyone so deeply in your two days since arriving”—other than my mother—“which leads me to suspect someone from your past life has followed you here.”
She shook her head. “No one from New Orleans would follow me here. Trust me on that.”
“I find that hard to believe,” I stated, my gaze sweeping over her. She was beautiful in every sense of the word. From her long legs and full hips to the generous curve of her breasts—which I imagined would fit perfectly in the palms of my hands—to her delicate face, pouty lips, and lovely hazel eyes.
That tempting mouth of hers curved into a smile. “Believe me. Anyone I might have considered a friend turned their back on me the moment my family hit rock-bottom. Vampires I’d known for decades suddenly couldn’t remember my name. Not a single one showed an ounce of loyalty.”
“And your family?” I asked, hoping to reveal a little more about her, if only to solve this mystery.
“My parents didn’t want me to leave but understood my decision. I couldn’t remain there. Not after everything.” Doubt crept into her eyes, as though she was deciding how much to reveal to me.
I simply nodded encouragingly.
She turned back to the window and stared out over Eternity Falls. “You obviously know about Trystan.”
I hummed a response.
“No point in hiding it anymore then,” she said, sighing. “We were mates for a hundred years.”
Her fingers tightened around her glass. Fury colored her voice, and I found my anger rising in response to hers. I, of course, already knew how long they’d been together, but this was clearly something she needed to get off her chest.
“A hundred years,” she repeated. “Half my life. Mate bonds are sacred, we all know that. They bind two people together in a way that defies logic. It’s a commitment even stronger than marriage. It tethers you to each other, joins your souls. Cheating is literally unheard of between mates. It just doesn’t happen. It’s not supposed to happen!”
I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms, watching her crumple beneath the weight of heartbreak and grief.
“The money, the social ruin, the loss of status, I think I could have handled all that. I might have stuck by him. Maybe. But when I found out he was not only screwing his secretary—the damn cliché of it all—but also sharing blood with her, it broke me. That betrayal I would not abide by.”
I never showed physical affection, not even with my sisters. I’d always had this bubble that felt invaded upon whenever people touched me. So, I’d always kept my hands to myself—except for when it came to sex.
But Isadora?
I didn’t feel that bubble with her. That instinctive need to put distance between us.
Without a thought, I slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her gently against my chest. The motion was so strange and foreign to me, yet it came easily. And just as easily, my other arm closed around her and held her tightly.
