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No. That didn’t bear thinking about. And she wasn’t going to tell him, either, and have him feel guilty. Nick had to allow it of his own free will. She wouldn’t accept him if he was afraid or felt coerced.
Once she was settled, he leaned over and kissed her. “Rest.”
She didn’t want to, but had no choice. Her eyes closed and she surrendered to healing sleep.
* * *
When Calla awoke the next morning, she was alone.
She didn’t much like it, and wondered where Nick could be. Probably working with Tarron and his team to locate the rogue vampire and the hunters helping him. That alliance made no sense yet. But Nick and her brother’s men would learn the reason if it took weeks or longer.
Rising, she pushed from the bed and took stock. She definitely felt better, though she was hungry. Blood was on the menu this morning and it pained her that it couldn’t be Nick’s. He could donate it to her in a cup, but that wasn’t what she wanted. She’d drink from her mate’s vein or not at all.
A donor it would have to be, then. Picking up the phone, she called for a pint and grimaced. Taking any blood from a mug was disgusting to her, but now that she had a new mate-to-be in her life, there was no chance she’d drink from other male and rouse his protective instincts. His jealousy. An angry, possessive mate was never a good thing.
The pint was delivered and the guard at the door took a sip to make sure it hadn’t been tampered with. After a moment, he deemed it safe and left her alone. This was a new measure and she hated the necessity, but after recent events she was hardly going to argue.
Curling up on her sofa, she sipped the lukewarm blood and flipped through a magazine. Try as she might, it didn’t take away the heavy knowledge of today’s significance. The anniversary of the day Stefano was kidnapped. Sorrow crept in, softer and more muted than in years past, not quite as debilitating. Because of Nick, the loss was bearable.
As if she’d summoned him, there was a knock on the door just before the commander stepped inside and closed it behind him.
“Hey,” she said, tossing the magazine aside. “Where have you been?”
“In a meeting with your brother and our men.” He crossed the room in a few strides and sat, gathering her into his lap. “Are you all right?”
Leaning back, she cupped his face and kissed him. “What makes you ask?”
“Tarron told me what today means to you.” His expression was one of concern, not jealousy or anger.
She swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
“Is there anything I can do, baby?” He stroked her hair.
“I’m okay. It’s gotten a bit easier over the years.”
“But it never goes away,” he told her. “I understand, believe me. When Darrow murdered Jennifer, I thought my world had ended. And in a very real sense, it had. For a long time I just wanted to follow her to the other side, but something held me back.”
“Hope,” she guessed. “Somewhere, deep down, you hoped to reconcile with your daughter one day.”
“I like to think that was it, and not that I was too big a coward to end it.”
“I don’t believe that.” She fell quiet for a moment, and then a
sked, “What was the mistake you made? Will you tell me now?”
His heart pounded under her palm as she laid it on his chest. He held her gaze as he responded. “I knew it was wrong to try to change the future. But I used my power as a PreCog to save Selene from being murdered by a rogue vampire—Carter Darrow. All it accomplished was turning his attention from my daughter to my mate. I saved Selene but caused Jennifer’s murder in her place.”
“Oh, Nick. I’m so sorry.”
“Selene blamed me for years, thinking I’d actively and purposely killed her mother, and came here not too long ago intending to kill me. She met Zander then, and her plans didn’t quite turn out as she’d thought they would.”
“At least you’ve reconciled.”
“For the most part, yes.” He nuzzled her neck. “But enough about me. What about you? Do you want to talk about it?”
“There isn’t much to say,” she said sadly. “Stefano was caught by hunters during what should have been a simple trip to town. He just vanished into thin air. Eventually the hunters responsible couldn’t resist sending me a taunt in the form of a lock of his hair and a ring I’d given him. Then a finger.”
“That’s sick.” His anger was palpable.
