It was strange to walk to him. She didn’t feel the eagerness and nervous energy that usually propelled her to run. Tonight, the pit of her stomach clenched tighter with each step. Two eternities were spread out before her, but she would only be able to lay claim to one, and the choice wasn’t even hers.
She knew she would honor Michael’s choice. That was what made this so difficult. She had relinquished control, and without it, she felt lost. If the house was dark, she would dissolve into the shadows, never to touch Michael again. She had to. She didn’t trust herself not to beg him to take her. Michael knew there was no way for them to be together. There was no way to break the cycle. They had tried everything. Amaia didn’t imagine there was any way he would want to keep trying, to keep experiencing the heartbreak. He had a chance to be happy, and it wasn’t with her.
As she neared, she closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see anything until she arrived. In the darkness of her mind, she tried to prepare herself for the sight of his darkened window. All she could think of was turning and walking away. Anything beyond that made her stomach drop.
She was so close. In the dark, she would be able to see him, but he wouldn’t be able to see her. Good. If the answer was no, she didn’t want him to see her walk away. She had killed in cold blood on more occasions that she could count, she had rented her body out to more men than she could possibly remember, and she had never felt shame during those acts. Yet if Michael rejected her tonight, she didn’t think she would ever be able to rid herself of the stain of knowing she was a creature he couldn’t love.
One eyelid cracked open and then the next. At first, her eyes couldn’t focus to make out anything in the orange flare, partly because her mind didn’t want to know what was there. Instinct took over and she picked up speed. Michael’s house was on fire.
Her eyes focused, and she stopped. There was no fire. After the shock wore off, when her mind registered the reprieve, the picture before her took form.
The house was a festival of lights. Two candles glowed in each of the windows and two parallel rows of candles led to the entrance. Sitting there in front of the door was Michael, scanning the tree line as if willing himself to see in the dark. His frame was taut, vibrating with the tension of having to stay put, his breath puffing in clouds in front of him. When his eyes swept her hiding spot, she saw all of her insecurities, hopes, and fears mirrored in them. The slight breeze played with the flames, and the light danced across Michael’s form.
A smile erupted on her face, and she broke into a run. Her mate called, and she would not keep him waiting.