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“He won’t arrest me and I’m not leaving.”
After checking her vitals, the older man with glasses slipped the call button into Maggie’s hand. “Press the button if you want me to send security in to remove him, Ms. Walsh.” The doctor glared at Zirkov as he left.
Zirkov paced for a moment, then stared out the window. She’d seen him mad in the past but never so disappointed. They’d had sex and she couldn’t even remember it. She pulled the blanket up to her chin. “Do you hate me, Z?”
“I could never hate you, but I should let you rest.”
Already, he was pulling away. She’d betrayed them all. She couldn’t blame him or any of her fellow agents if they never trusted her again.
“Do I still have a job?”
“The DAA fired you and confiscated your badge and weapons. Along with many of the personal items in your apartment. They haven’t decided if they’ll prosecute you.”
Her head dropped back against the pillows. So many years of hard work… destroyed. “I don’t know what to do. I’m scared.”
“I won’t let them touch you, vasha. Similar to how a sholan protects his sholani.”
More memories surfaced. They’d slept together, and he’dmarkedher. Everywhere. What few memories she had seemed surreal, distant as if she’d been on the outside looking in.
“I’m not your sholani,” she said, trying to understand what had happened between them.
Zirkov’s horns twisted at the tops. “No, you are not.”
“Then why talk about heartmates? What did I do, Z? Did we marry or something?”
“No. Even if we had, it would not be binding. The person in bed with me was… not there, not fully.” Zirkov swallowed hard. “I believe Var’Len ordered you to sleep with me.”
She didn’t remember anyone ordering her, but the things she did with Zirkov… His lips thinned and she could see the pain there. She’d hurt him.
“Everything that’s happened, none of it was me, and yet it was.” She turned her head away from him. If she had the strength, she’d leap from the bed and run so far she’d never have to face him, but her body felt like a truck ran her over.
Zirkov knelt beside the bed, placing his face level with hers. He was so handsome, his body a work of art, even with the scars on his neck and chest. She had so many questions about him, and now she couldn’t ask any of them.
“Look at me, Magdalena.”
“I deserve that.”
“What?”
“Being called Magdalena.”
“It is a beautiful name. One you should wear proudly.”
“Proudly?” She lifted her head, no longer trying to hide her tears.
With the pad of his thumb, he wiped a fat drop from her cheek. “Why does your name bring you such sadness?”
“Because anytime I did something wrong as a child, my mother called me Magdalena.” She swiped at the tears leaking from her eyes. “She called me Magdalenaa lot, Z. I was always screwing up, at least in her eyes. I didn’t have any self-worth for the longest time, not even enough to tell that man to stop.”
“What man?”
“Never mind. The point is the name makes me feel like a screw-up all over again, and I’ve worked too hard to get where I am. Fuck!” She threw her head back against the pillows. “I’ve screwed up again. I’m a traitor. No one will ever trust me again, including you.”
“You are not a traitor, Magdalena.”
She winced at hearing her name again.
“My apologies. I will try to call you Maggie from this point forward. Though I will still think of you as Magdalena, which reminds me of a very special and rare flower that blooms once every ten years on Zyan. It’s called a magdala. During the flower’s dormant period, the magdala’s petals remain tightly closed only revealing their underside, a deep blue that blends in with the grass and other foliage. There appears to be nothing special about the magdala until it blooms.”
