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“Riiight.”
“Okay. I slept next to him, but nothing happened.”
A giggle. “Right.”
“Seriously.”
“Seriously. I can read you like a book. You’re hot for this guy. I’ll make a bet. If you did nothing with him last night, then I promise to swear off men permanently.” She criss-crossed her heart with one finger and raised her hand in a mocking oath.
“Please. As if you could swear off men.”
“As if you did nothing with that huge, hunk of Morgon man while you slept in his bed. Is he huge everywhere?”
“Stop it.”
“You stop it. I know you, Moira. I know the type of man that gets you all worked up.”
“What do you mean? He’s nothing like Mikal.”
“Exactly.” She rolled her eyes. “Mikal wasn’t your type. You dated that poor guy for ages because he was safe. Because he didn’t make you really feel anything, and there was no risk of losing your heart.”
I blew out a frustrated breath and twisted my hair into a tight, messy bun, annoyed with this whole conversation. “What are you saying? That I’m heartless? That I don’t have emotions?”
“Damn, you’re stubborn. No. What I’m saying is that you’re afraid. You’re afraid to be with someone who might make you feel too much because then you’d open the door to the possibility of heartbreak.” Lighthearted banter turned serious in a millisecond. Her brows pushed together, sorrow in her eyes as she squeezed my hand on the desk. “Because you don’t want to end up like your father.”
I flinched and popped out of my seat, then moved to the window and watched the light snowfall layering the walkway outside. Downy flakes drifted to the ground at a soft slant. So serene right on the other side of the pane.
“Sorry.” Her voice was soft. Sympathetic. “But it’s true.”
My father had been deeply in love once. But not with my mother. He had loved and wanted to marry a Morgon woman, Sarasong. From a proud, aristocratic family, she had caved to the pressure of her parents’ will and agreed to an arranged marriage to ally her clan with the most powerful Morgon family in the Gladium Province. She married Adicus Nightwing, and would later bear him two sons—Lucius and Lorian. Even so, she never shared the heartbonding of soulfire with Adicus. It was as if she could never give him her heart fully since it still belonged to someone else. My father. A man who would become so embittered over the years toward Morgons, especially toward the Nightwing clan. It was a sad, twist of irony when Fate led my sister to Lucius. Or perhaps not. Perhaps Fate was mending old wounds by tying the two together. Jessen and my father hadn’t spoken to each other until after Demetrius married and mated to Shakara. But even so, bitterness and regret had kept them apart. Father had only seen Julian a handful of times since his birth. Another regret that hung heavy on my heart.
A young brunette strolled arm-in-arm with her boyfriend along the pavement. As they crossed under an overhanging branch, she unclasped her arm and tapped the branch, knocking the collected snow onto his head. Giggling, she ran. He chased her. She squealed with delight when he caught her in his arms.
I sighed, then glanced at Maxine Mendale’s smiling photo, having pinned it alongside the others on my bulletin board. Maxine—beautiful, full of life and adventure. Her life ended way too soon. Here I was, always so sure of myself, so sure of my life’s purpose, pushing toward an ambitious career with such determination. But Kris was right. There was one area of my life where I’d cut out all passion. Was I using my feminist ideals to build a shield around my heart, barring any man from entering that sacred place?
You belong to me.
I shivered. His lips on my skin. His hands on my body. My blood quickening with every touch. And still, I’d pushed him away. Hell, that was why I’d pushed him away. The thought of letting down my shield for him drove a spike of fear right through me. He had informed me emphatically that Morgons didn’t date. So what was I? His wannabe fuck-buddy or his soulmate? If the first, I wasn’t so sure I could resist anymore, knowing he would be a rough yet satisfying lover. If the second?—
Someone jerked open my office door. Macon stood there, face flushed and eyes wide. “There’s been another one,” he panted.
“What?”
“Turn on comm screen TV on your desktop. Now.” He hurried to my desk to do it himself.
“What channel?” squealed Kris.
“Any channel. It’s on every damn one.”
The first channel that popped up showed the still photo of a smiling, dark-haired student from Gladium University. I knew that smiling face so well. I’d seen it last night. Layla.
“No,” I murmured.
“She was in my Psychology class,” Kris said in a daze.
The reporter droned on. “The body of another co-ed from Gladium University found in Drakos. This may be the fourth victim of the Devlin Butchers….”
“They’re not showing anything, Macon. Was she found in Devlin Wood? Damn it! This news station is useless.”
