Chapter 49
River
By the time I made it home that night my mood had plummeted, and I had to make sure to fix my expression into something that wasn’t a grimace before I stepped through the front door.
The recon mission had been a useless, pointless slog through empty buildings and abandoned shell companies.
Nothing but bare corridors and vacant rooms—and a goddamn tripwire that nearly cost Dylan her foot.
It was like the organization had doubled their defenses overnight.
They knew we were coming and they cleared out before we arrived.
They left just enough evidence to prove they had been there, but not enough clues to guide us further in our search.
They were toying with us, flaunting their ability to always be one step ahead.
The other teams had similarly poor luck with their missions, and the meeting afterwards had been full of disappointed faces and tense shoulders. Jordan barely kept her temper; Hunter didn’t even bother trying. We all parted ways more despondent and downtrodden than when we’d started.
Exhaustion had settled deep in my bones, and I dragged my feet through the hallways with a sigh, looking around for Laurie.
The house was silent save for the low hiss and crackle of the fireplace in the living room.
I shrugged off my coat and followed that ember glow that spilled from the doorway down the hall.
Through that door, I found her.
She was perched on the edge of the sofa, bundled up in a blanket.
Her knees were drawn up to her chin, vacant gaze fixed on the spitting flames.
Shadows flickered across her face, highlighting the sharp slope of her cheekbone.
She looked like she’d been carved from stone, one of the many statues littered around the house.
She didn’t move when I slipped through the doorway, didn’t turn her head from the flames. She didn’t seem to notice me at all—not until I crossed the carpet and settled down beside her. Then she jumped, startled, fire reflected in wide, wild eyes.
“Sorry,” I whispered with a grimace, easing into the dip of the sofa cushions. “You all right?”
Laurie blinked the glazed look from her eyes, and her breath came rushing out in a shaky gust. “I’m fine,” she muttered. “Just… jumpy.”
Despite that grumbled sentiment, she leaned into me and I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling the blanket up so it cocooned us both. For a long while we simply sat there, the fireplace snapping softly, warmth licking over our faces.
Then Laurie asked, barely audible above the crackle, “How did it go?”
I let my head tip back against the sofa and sighed. “Not very well.” My fingers toyed with her hair while I gave her the short version of the story.
Laurie didn’t look as upset as I expected. She didn’t look at all surprised to hear the mission was a complete failure. She simply shrugged and tunneled her way through my hair, burying her face in my neck. I felt her deep sigh against my throat.
“We’ll try again,” I said, trying for confidence and failing dramatically. It came out like defeat. “We won’t stop just because they want to play chicken.”
“Sure,” she murmured, but through my curls I watched her gaze drift back to the flames, pupils reflecting stark orange and white.
Something about the quiet way she said it made me search her profile.
Her brows were furrowed, and her lips turned down in a tired curve.
Those glassy eyes were unfocused, like she was still a million miles away.
I smoothed a stray cut of hair behind her ear. “Hey. You sure you’re okay?”
She hesitated, then nodded—small, ambiguous.
I felt the unease in her aura, something more than simple disappointment.
But for once, it seemed, her mind was closed to me.
I could barely glean what she was feeling.
There was no storm surrounding her, no agitation spiking her aura but still… something was wrong.
I scraped my brain for something that might have upset her.
Maybe it was the mention of dating earlier?
I did kinda drop that bomb without really intending to.
The words just slipped out before I could really consider what I was saying.
I played it cool at the time but… maybe that was the wrong way to handle it.
“Uh, listen.” I shifted beside her and reached for her chin, tilting her head up to meet my gaze. “About what I said earlier, about us dating? You don’t actually have to give me an answer. That was just a joke—well, a flirt really. I got a bit carried away.”
Laurie’s brow furrowed further like she wasn’t sure what the hell I was going on about and I wondered if maybe that was a stupid thing to bring up. But I’d already begun so I may as well see it through.
I blew out a breath, skimming a palm down her cheek. “I mean, I’m happy with how things are now. We don’t need to put a label on it if you don’t want to.”
Laurie blinked, like she’d lost the thread for a second, then let out a small, breathy laugh. It didn’t sound happy. “River, don’t worry about that.” The giggle faded, leaving her expression softer, but lined with sadness.
She stared into the fire for a beat before speaking again. “I’m… happy with us. Happier than I ever figured I could be. I just…” Her voice cracked. “I wish it could last.”
Every muscle in my shoulders went taut, but I held my tongue, let her finish.
“You’ve done so much for me. So much more than I deserve—than I ever knew I needed.” She shifted, resting on her knees on the sofa so she could meet me eye-to-eye. The blanket slipped from her shoulders. Embers cast amber flickers across her choppy hair, like her head was set ablaze.
I waited, silent as the grave, as she held my gaze.
“I—” She hesitated, hands reaching for me and faltering halfway. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to me… But while I have this, while I have you,” her gaze flicked to my mouth and she sucked in a rattling breath, fighting with herself to get the words out, “I want to make the most of it.”
I wanted to ask her what she meant.
I wanted to get down on my knees and beg her not to talk like that, like we didn’t have much time together.
I wanted to remind her that the memory extractions were working, that she would make it through this.
I wanted to tell her that I’d be by her side, for as long as she’d have me and that she would always have my heart.
But I didn’t say any of that. Because something told me that wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
My declarations of love and devotion would fall on deaf ears.
They would hurt her more than she was already hurting.
I couldn’t give her every piece of my heart—she couldn’t carry it—but I could give her this. I could give her this moment.
I leaned forward, the slightest shift. Silent permission for her to do what she wanted. Laurie bridged the remaining inches between us and I held myself still, so very still—eyes wide open and locked on hers, until she kissed me.
Her lips started a slow and careful exploration at first. Her fingers traveled to my jawline, fluttered at my cheek. I shut my eyes and let her lips press softly to mine. I let her teeth scrape along my bottom lip, and I let her tongue lick along the point of my fangs.
Her hands slid to the nape of my neck, thumb gently stroking along my skin, sending cold shivers trickling down my spine. We moved in slow motion and heat pooled between us, building to a steady burn that put the fire in the grate to shame.
She’d been so unsure the first night, all stuttered touches and uncertainty.
Tonight, there was a shy boldness in the way her lips traced the line of my jaw, in the tentative flare of arousal in her eyes when she pulled back to assess my expression.
I answered with a gentle smile and felt her melt under my touch, felt her shiver under my fingers trailing lightly down her arms.
But even as her confidence unfurled, I caught flickers in her gaze whenever the firelight struck.
Brief shadows of conflict. Want surged in one heartbeat, hesitation smothered it in the next.
Something was wrong. Something was weighing down her shoulders, rendering her eyes glassy with tears.
She looked away, bit down on her lip like she had to hold herself back.
I cupped her cheek and captured her wandering gaze, bringing her attention back to me. To this fragile moment. “Laurie, what’s going on?”
Laurie said nothing, but the look in her eyes said it all. She was at war with herself. Wanting to let herself want, and simultaneously terrified of how it could hurt me.
But I could handle the hurt, I would hold her for as long as she let me. I tipped her chin back and said as much. “You don’t have to hold back. I won’t break.”
She let my thumb brush her bitten lip, and her breath hitched in her throat. I saw the decision solidify in her eyes. She looked at me and she was so perfect. So goddamn beautiful she stole my breath away before her mouth had even crashed to mine again.
But even as she surged into me—hands reaching to grip my collar, lips melding to mine with a sudden fierce intent—something beneath my breastbone was splintering. Because the way she kissed me felt too urgent, desperate.
Like it was the last time she’d get to do this.
Operating on instinct I pulled her closer, enveloped her, hands fisting in her shirt like if I could just hold on tight enough she’d never have to leave my arms. Laurie lay back on the sofa, pulling me with her and I went willingly, lips trailing up her throat, across her cheek, over her damp lashes.
Her breath brushed hot against my ear, her sighs laughing out with the rush of pleasure.
I wanted to believe I could pry the sorrow from her by simply kissing her tears away. Stay, I wanted to whisper, even though she was right there. Stay with me. Because even as she gave her all to me, this felt like losing her.
Her mouth found mine again and the fracture in my chest cracked wider.
Her lips were soft and sensual, hungry and wild all at once.
The slide of her tongue against my own sent arousal skittering through my body.
I flattened myself against her, pressing her into the cushions, and we became a tangle of hands and hair and breathless, heady need.
I kissed her until I couldn’t tell where I ended and she began.
The heat between us erupted in a raging blaze, and I was happy to let it eat me alive, let the flames lick along our bodies, flay us both down to the bone so long as I never had to let go. It was a union forged in fire. Pure and perfect and everything I didn’t know I’d been looking for all my life.
Laurie’s fingers dug into my back, yanking me closer like there was any space left to spare. She murmured my name, whispered words that sent me spinning into space.
“I want you,” she said, and her words came out choked with emotion. “I want you and no one else, forever,” and I believed her, wholeheartedly.
Why then, did this feel like a goodbye?