Chapter 120

Mira

My blood ran cold for a moment, and then turned to stone.

The plan I had when I left home was changing, and I had to reroute my thinking. I had thought I would stay with this team, and that future might still lie ahead. But now, I needed to go after him.

I looked up to the Betas sitting across from me. “I think we’ve intruded enough,” I told the room. “I really appreciate you speaking with us, and if there is anything we can do for you, please don’t hesitate to reach out. You may not be of our Pack, but the Greys are your side.”

Sasha gave my hand a light squeeze, her eyes heavy with tears. I felt my own well up, wondering if I could’ve been in her place had I not found Dominic.

“Thank you, Luna Mira,” Aubrey said as she showed us to the door. “We have our community, but it can still be a lonely life out here. Sasha is young, she’ll recover from her injuries. But there are wounds that only human kindness can heal.”

“I understand, and I meant what I said,” I held out my hand to her, and she took it. “Pack lines blur when we are all in danger, and I too have taken an oath to help and to heal.”

“We will talk soon.”

As the gravel crunched under my feet, the idea settled in my brain.

“I’m going to make a quick call, just checking on a medicine for Sasha.”

Lucas and Wyatt paused but nodded, and I watched them get into the car before I held the phone to my ear.

He picked up on the first ring. I knew I didn’t need to say hello, and only offered two words.

“I’m in.”

Dominic

I was almost surprised when Mira came home that night. I was sure that after I stormed out and disappeared for hours that she would’ve gone somewhere else to spend the night. Maybe back to Lucian’s waiting arms…

That mindset was not helping. I rifled through Mira’s tincture bottles to find one labeled “Calm” and brought it with me to bed. I made the good decision not to bring work into bed, but instead brought one of Mira’s books on legends of science and sorcery.

It was fascinating enough, but after a time it only made me miss my wife. Her research and passions were so different from mine, she was so much more interested in the universe and natural world around her. She brought more wonder into my life in months than anyone had in my whole life.

So when she walked in the door, I waited in bed for her. I didn’t want to push her, and enjoyed listening to her ritual of putting away her things for the night. Her steps were always so light, her movement almost silent when she wanted to be. But she hummed to herself, not a tune but almost an internal conversation she was having with herself.

I heard her stop just outside the doorway, out of sight. At this point, she knew I was in here. Our pheromones were too well-matched to ever be ignored, and the thought of it was slightly arousing. I took a deep breath, a loud breath, to hopefully signify how calm I was. Or at least I was trying to be.

“Hi,” she said from the doorway.

“Hi.”

“What are you reading?” She asked, avoiding the real subject.

“One of yours,” I said, showing her the cover. She squinted, then nodded. “I needed something light, so I went straight to the necromancy.”

I was trying to joke poorly, and she gave a faint smile. It seemed out of pity, not amusement.

“Mira, I’m—“

“I have some work to do, so I’ll be up for a bit longer.”

I closed my mouth around the words I’d been planning in my head. Her deflection was like a slap in the face.

“Okay,” was all I could say to her.

She let her gaze linger on me for another moment. I couldn’t read her mind, but I saw a glimmer of desire mixed in her disappointment. On some level, we both wished we could just forget about the rift between us and enjoy the comfort of our bodies.

But life was never that simple.

She turned and went back to the living room, and I heard her shuffling things as she settled at the table. Maybe I should have asked what she was working on, shown that I cared, but I imagined she would have kept it close to her chest no matter what.

I tried to stay awake, waiting for her, thinking we might talk before turning in for the night. I was half-asleep when she got in the shower, and unconscious whenever it was that she crawled into bed on the other side of me. She had even left my light on.

I turned the switch and let my eyes adjust to the lack of light. Her silhouette was smooth as she lay on her side, facing away from me. I wanted to rub my hands along the curves of her ribs, her hip, but I restrained myself. She was so close to me, but felt a world away.

In a dream, Mira was standing on the cliff I had shown her. She looked peaceful, but I got the sense that she was thinking about jumping. Not in desperation, but in some strange act of heroism or just curiosity.

I could not get my legs to move fast enough to get me to her, but I knew I had to get there to stop her. The dream ended before I knew the ending.

I woke to the smell of coffee. Mira was up and puttering around, the familiar humming as she planned out her day. I found her in the kitchen where she was pouring two mugs, leaving mine black and adding a dash of milk and honey to hers.

She looked up when I walked in, giving me a shy smile. It was a hopeful smile, even knowing the tension was still there between us.

“Good morning,” she said, handing me a mug.

“Good morning.”

She bit her lip. “Do you have a busy day?”

I blew on my coffee to cool it. “Could be. There’s an event committee meeting tomorrow, and the banquet is coming up.”

“Yes, right,” Mira said, a hand on her forehead. “I have notes for that, I’ll type them up better, for clarity.”

“You can speak in bullet points,” I said, trying to help, “no one needs to see perfect printed materials.”

She stared at me, as if finishing a conversation in her head. Then she blinked, and looked down at her coffee.

“Right, keep it simple,” she said. “Well, I have a lot to do today, but…”

She looked up into my eyes and we were both frozen. A piece of hair had fallen across her cheek, and I gently brushed my finger across her face to place it behind her ear. Her eyes stayed locked on mine.

“Tonight,” she said, swallowing hard, “I’ll be home for dinner.”

She ducked away from me so quickly that I couldn’t even respond. I stood there in the kitchen like a statue, hearing her slam open and close the front door.

“Good bye,” I said to the emptiness.