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But no.
He already said goodbye, and he’d spoken the truth when he told her he had to leave. He would torture her by showing up only to leave again. And he certainly couldn’t invite her into hiding with him and his ward. She had a life, a human life. And he must let her live it.
He considered summoning a Shade to take his memory of her as he had the first time.
But no. He’d been a fool then. This was his cross to bear, and he must.
He’d tried to forget her once, and fate had brought her back, giving him a fresh taste before he had to leave. Giving him the knowledge that she was truly his, and though he could never have her, he also would never forget her.
ChapterEleven
“‘…at which point Agent Doyle identified the silver signet ring as belonging to Lucius Dragos. He then made the determination to examine the victim’s last mental image in order to confirm suspect’s identity.’” Sara looked up from the one-page summary she was quoting. “Examine the last mental image?”
In the guest chair across from her, Blair glanced up from the fingernail she was examining. “Problem?”
“Could you elaborate on that?”
“With any other prosecutor down here, I wouldn’t have to. That’s why we call that a summary.”
“You do realize that if I take this job, I’ll be your superior? And that means that I’ll be able to make your life as least as hellish as you make mine.”
Her perfect brows rose, and those fascinating pupils turned to slits. “I’ve yet to meet a human with that much imagination.”
Sara leaned back in her chair, her fingers steepled. “You must not have met that many humans. If you had, you’d know that we excel at making life hellish for others.”
Blair released a loud laugh, then clapped her hand over her mouth. Sara just smiled sweetly, hoping the dam had finally cracked. “Truce?”
The woman—or whatever—didn’t answer. But she did explain about Doyle’s gift of seeing the last thoughts of the dead. “He can’t do it for every corpse. The images fade over time. But get him fast to a crime scene, and it is sweet. This one especially. For him, anyway.”
“Why’s that?”
For a moment, Blair stayed silent, and Sara feared the dam hadn’t cracked after all. But then Blair shrugged. “Long-standing feud between those two. Doyle and Dragos, I mean. I’m pretty sure as far as Doyle is concerned, getting Dragos behind bars is better than sex.”
“Why the feud?”
“No idea.”
Sara studied her paralegal, but as far as she could tell, Blair wasn’t holding back. She put the summary back on the desk that might soon be hers.
“So what are you?” She remembered Leviathan’s odd reaction to that question. “Or is that question considered rude?”
“I’m a siren,” Blair answered, and Sara forced herself not to do a victory fist bump. Apparently, she really had broken through Blair’s wall.
“A siren,” she repeated. “So, based on what I’ve seen you must really have to turn on the charm to reel in the men.” She held her breath, hoping she’d been right and they’d broken the ice enough to tease each other.
Blair stood, then circled Sara’s desk, humming as she walked. As she moved—as the sound filled the office, Sara started to feel a little tipsy.
“Well, look at you,” Blair said, and immediately Sara’s head cleared.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing like what I meant to. You were supposed to be begging me to fuck you on your desk, but you weren’t even close.” She cocked her head. “Not sure if you’re impervious or if you’ve got someone locked tight up here,” she said, tapping Sara’s head. She bent close, then sniffed near Sara’s ear. “A bit of both, then,” she added as she returned to her chair and crossed her legs. She smiled at Sara. “Oh, and in case it wasn’t clear, I don’t limit myself to men.”
“Yeah,” Sara said. “I got that.”
“Just a demonstration so you’re familiar. It’s a class two violation to pull out the glow at work. Or without consent.”
“That’s probably a good thing.”
