Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Hope blew out air. “Long story. Anyway, the virus can also be used to negate a mating bond, but only in very specific situations. It’s never been used on living partners. It’s typically used when one mate has been dead for at least a century, sometimes two.”
“Okay. I’ve heard about it.” Lyrica’s mind spun. Could she even consider such a thing? Her thoughts raced back to the night she’d spent with Vero. Hope was right—he was strong, kind, dangerous, and so sweet it made her heart ache. But forever? Immortality? That was a lot to take in. “I don’t want to lose myself,” she said softly.
Hope snorted, her expression turning wry. “You? Lose yourself? Please. You’re one of the most grounded people I’ve ever met. You have valuable work there, and you can do whatever you want—mate or no mate.”
Lyrica bit her lip, thinking about the work she’d done with the Kurjan nation. Helping kidnapped women find their footing again had been rewarding, even if bittersweet. That role might be fading as the Kurjans moved away from abductions, but there were other ways she could contribute. She thought of Maeve, a woman who seemed stuck in an outdated role and desperately needed someone to pull her into the modern world.
“You need to get back here,” Lyrica said finally.
Hope’s eyes softened. “I know. I miss you too.” She glanced over her shoulder and sighed. “Oh, hey. I have to go. I talked Liam into sparring with me, and the vampire has no patience.”
“All right,” Lyrica said, forcing a small smile. “I’m excited to see you.”
“We’ll be there in time for the Convexus the day after tomorrow,” Hope promised. “See you then.”
As the screen went dark, Lyrica leaned back, her mind buzzing. What did she really want? She knew she wanted Vero—but forever? Centuries of being tied to one person? She’d never had a boyfriend last more than two months. Could anyone truly like her for that long?
Shaking herself free from the spiral, she reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a piece of paper. She’d kept her own records while working with the captured women and didn’t need to seek out Vero for his. It was a list of email addresses for the women who had recently gained their freedom. She’d missed her new friends. Her fingers hovered over one name, Cynthia, before she typed the address and initiated a video call.
When Cynthia’s face appeared, the woman frowned and leaned closer to the screen. “Can I help you?”
“Hi, Cynthia.” Lyrica forced cheerfulness into her voice. “It’s me, Lyrica. I just wanted to check in and see how you’re settling back into your life.”
Cynthia blinked a few times, her frown deepening. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
Lyrica froze. “It’s me,” she whispered. “Lyrica. From Canada.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I have no idea who you are. Are you trying to scam me? How did you get this email address?”
Before Lyrica could respond, a hand came down on her mouse, cutting the connection. She looked up to find Vero standing beside her, his expression dark and dangerous.
“What was that?” she asked, her voice trembling. “I don’t understand.”
His mouth tightened, and his tone turned to steel. “Don’t contact any of the released females.”
Her lungs seized. His eyes had gone cold, and his tone sounded flat. Hard. Implacable. “What are you talking about? I just wanted to check on them.”
“I said no,” Vero repeated, his voice cutting through her confusion like a blade.
Fury surged through her veins, red-hot and unrelenting. “What do you mean, ‘no’? I don’t take orders from you.”
“You do when it comes to this.” Now even his blue eyes had gone flat and hard. “This is about security and safety. You will not contact those females again.”
She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “Why do I get the feeling that if I did, they wouldn’t remember me?”
“Because they won’t,” Vero said flatly.
She couldn’t breathe. “You promised. I gave you that entire presentation, and both you and Paxton said you agreed to leave their brains and memories alone.”
“We didn’t agree, and we didn’t lie to you or promise,” he said, stepping back but still radiating a deadly calm. “We wiped their memories in a very safe way. Gave them stories they could take home. Some went on vacation. Others were kidnapped and rescued without much harm. They’ll move on. It’s safer this way.”
Her stomach turned over, and she whispered, “You messed with their minds.”
“Take it however you want,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion. “They’re better off not knowing about the Kurjan nation.”
“Did it hurt them?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
“Not in the slightest. The memory wipes were clean. This is about protecting them—and us.”
Her hands itched to grab something—anything—and throw it. She glanced down at her stapler, her fingers twitching.