by I. T. Lucas
"Lucky guy."
"Yes." She wrapped her arm around him, bringing his head to rest on her shoulder. "And so are you. You're going to have all of that and more."
"I doubt it. Roni is still a boy. It's easy for him to change his ways. It's difficult for an old dog like me to learn new tricks."
"I didn't say it's going to be easy. But you, of all people, should know that everything worthwhile requires work and sacrifice. With enough motivation, you can achieve almost anything."
"Except the immortality. I either transition or not, survive it or die. I have no control whatsoever over it."
And that was the crux of the matter.
Up until cancer struck out of nowhere, Turner had felt like the god of his own life, shaping every aspect and leaving nothing to chance.
He couldn't stomach the uncertain future. He couldn't handle the lack of control over his destiny. In some irrational manner, it must have felt like a failure to him, and Turner was used to winning. He wasn't a man who could accept defeat.
"You need to have a little faith. The Fates didn't bring you to me only to tease me with what could be. You're mine, and I'm not letting you slip away one way or another."
The look on Victor's face was precious. He couldn't have looked more shocked if Santa Claus had shimmied down the chimney and announced his candidacy for the next presidential election with a booming ho, ho, ho.
"Are you saying you're in love with me?" His voice cracked a little.
"No. I'm saying that you're mine. I'm more comfortable with claiming ownership than declaring love. But if you let it, it will come."
He shook his head.
What the hell? Had she taken a leap into a pool with no water? "Are you denying it?"
"I wouldn't dare."
"That's not an answer."
"You're beautiful when you get angry."
"That's not an answer either."
He took her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. "Belonging to you is an honor and a privilege I don't deserve, but I'll take it with both hands and hold it tight even when you no longer want me."
The knot in her gut eased. "That's better."
"I wish I could claim you for my own as well, but at the moment I have no right to such a claim. My future is uncertain and therefore I have nothing to offer you."
Liar.
In every way that counted Victor considered her his, as evidenced by his verbal sparring with Andrew, an ex-lover she was no longer interested in.
Besides, what did he think she needed from him?
"All I want is your company and your affection. If that one day turns into love, great. But if not, I would still be happier with you than without you."
He wrapped his arms around her and brought her close to his chest. "I am indeed a lucky man."
Chapter 54: Roni
"Wow!" As Roni sat up, his head was spinning, and his vision was blurred, but he felt great.
Damn, he loved these people. All of them. Including Kian.
Sylvia's exhale was audible before words rushed out of her in a stream. "Thank the merciful Fates. You've been out for nearly an hour, and Dr. Bridget wasn't here, and Kian wouldn't let me call her…"
Roni put his finger to her lips. "I'm okay."
Kian grinned, though not evilly as he usually did. This time he just seemed relieved. "I knew you were fine. Sylvia panicked because it took you so long to shake it off."
"One hell of a trip you treated me to. Thank you. I love you, man."
As Roni leaned into Kian, the guy patted his back awkwardly. "It's the venom talking, kid."
Kian's venom was indeed more potent than Andrew’s and Brundar's. It was like comparing weed to acid Not that Roni had had either, but that what he imagined the difference would have been. As he'd soared on the clouds of euphoria, he'd experienced what had felt like hours upon hours of wondrous landscapes, of impossible colors and shapes, and an all-encompassing oneness with the world.
He hadn't wanted to return to reality.
Was that what a near-death experience felt like?
If it did, then no wonder survivors wanted to go back.
"My pleasure." Kian slapped Roni on the back before making room for the others to come and congratulate him. "See you on the other side, Roni." He stretched his back. "Now I have to get back to work." He pointed a finger at him. "You owe me an hour."
Emboldened by the lingering floaty feeling, Roni shrugged. "Given how many hours I saved you by suggesting someone summarized reports for you, I think we are even."
"True." Kian strode out of the gym.
Jackson offered Roni a hand up. "How was dreamscape?"
"Incredible."
Sylvia caught him as his knees buckled. "Come on. You need to rest."
"Yes, ma'am, the love of my life." He leaned on her. "I feel drunk."
"Worse than the two other times?"
"Way worse, or better, it depends on the point of view. Kian's venom is strong."
Claps and cheers followed them as they left the gym and headed for his apartment.
When they got there, Sylvia helped him get in bed. "You can shower later."
"I don't need to shower. There was no fight."
"You sweated, baby. I guess it was from fear." Damn immortals and their sense of smell.
He'd thought no one had noticed. Kian had offered him a lifeline by giving him the option to fight using the one weapon Roni had mastery of—verbal sparring. He'd thought he would keep his dignity this time, but he was such a damned coward that even reciting nasty poetry had made him sweat.
"Can we pretend it was hot in the gym?"
"Definitely. But we don't need to. Kian is scary when he gets aggressive, even to a Guardian. You know him as an administrator, but he is a warrior too—a formidable one."
"I have no doubt." Roni felt his eyelids droop. "I'm falling asleep."
She leaned and kissed his cheek. "Good, you need rest."
"Lie down with me?"
Sylvia hesitated for a split second. "Sure." She kicked off her shoes, climbed into bed, and wrapped her arms around him. "Better?"
"Yes." He snuggled up to her. "Can you turn off the light?"
"Naturally."
She used her unique talent, doing it without moving a muscle. His clap-on clap-off girl. Roni smiled as he drifted off.
Chapter 55: Turner
"Roni is transitioning," Bridget said as Turner picked up the phone. "I have him down in the clinic, so come down when you get here."
"I'll do that. Do you want me to pick up something to eat on the way?"
"Sylvia and her mom brought us dinner, and there are plenty of leftovers. Good home-cooked stuff you can't get in a restaurant."
"Should I bring champagne?"
"No way. It's bad luck to prepare for a celebration prematurely."
He chuckled. "I didn't peg you as superstitious."
"I'm not. But I rather not tempt the Fates."
"If you say so."
Lucky kid, Turner thought as he put down the phone. Bridget sounded happy and unconcerned, meaning that Roni's prognosis was good, and he was going to come out of it immortal and not dead.
Turner imagined the clinic full of Roni's friends, rooting for him, praying for him, united in their concern and their hope. People, humans and immortals alike, were pack animals. They needed others to share their burdens with and to celebrate their achievements with.
For most of his life, Turner had believed himself a different kind of animal.
He didn't need anyone to share his concerns with because there was no point. By the time he was done explaining the complex problems he was dealing with day in and day out, people's eyes would glaze over and he would get annoyed for having to explain things that his brain processed lightning fast. He had no time or patience for it.
And as to his celebrations?
A mission accomplished was all the reward he needed, and the monetary compensation went without saying.
So why was
he envious of Roni?
What was different about this situation?
The answer eluded him, and it annoyed the hell out of Turner that there was a puzzle his analytical mind was having difficulty solving.
It had to do either with the cancer or with Bridget.
The cancer had pushed his mortality to the forefront of his mind, forcing him to reevaluate his life. Until that had happened, shaking the routine which he'd been quite comfortable in, Turner hadn't pondered the meaning of his life, or whether something was missing from it or not.
His routine was satisfying.
He excelled at everything he did. His work was providing crucial services to people in desperate need, and he was the best of the limited number of outlets offering them worldwide. He'd completed several degrees at the top of his class and had earned black belts in several martial arts disciplines.
Some might frown on his decision to let another man raise his son, but Turner didn't regret it. The other guy was much better at being Douglas's parent, and Turner was better at providing the financial means to get Douglas the best education. As far as he was concerned, it was an all-around win-win. Everyone benefited from the arrangement.
He'd done the right thing.
So why at the ripe age of forty-six did he find himself envying a nineteen-year-old kid?
Looking back, Turner would have done nothing differently. Every decision he'd made had been the right one under the circumstances, and he wasn't the type who dwelled on what could've been under different ones.
Bridget.
She was the key to this.
He'd missed her when he was in South America, and not just the incredible sex. He'd missed being with her, talking with her, working with her.
Hell, they were practically living together already, and astonishingly, he wasn't looking forward to alone time away from her. On the contrary. He dreaded the day he would have to leave and go back to his lonely existence.
Turner could imagine himself starting a new chapter with her, maybe even having kids with her. After all, Bridget was an immortal, so it was never too late for her.
But it was even more than that.
He wanted her huge, caring family to adopt him as their own the same way they had Roni. Except, the only way that fantasy could materialize was if he transitioned successfully.
Should he just go for it?
Or should he wait a little longer and enjoy the fantasy?
Chapter 56: Bridget
Through the open door of her office, Bridget glanced at the corridor and smiled. She'd come to expect a crowd out there when another Dormant was transitioning. Even Roni, who hadn't been with them for long, had become a member of the family, and people came to hold a vigil for him.
There weren't as many as when Syssi and then Andrew transitioned, but enough. The hum of conversation was upbeat. Due to his young age, no one expected Roni to suffer complications, but Bridget still worried.
At the time of his transition, Michael was a little older than Roni and had done so without losing consciousness. The only indicator that anything was happening had been what he'd thought was a severe toothache.
Nathalie, who was thirty and had just given birth, had gone through it as smoothly as Michael. Apparently, age was not the only factor. Physical health and distance from the source played a role as well.
Both Michael and Nathalie enjoyed robust health and were in excellent shape, and in Nathalie's case, the suspicion was that she, like her mother, was also genetically close to the source.
Bridget had a feeling that more factors would become apparent as more Dormants transitioned, which gave her hope for Turner. It was irrational, it was wishful thinking, but when there was nothing substantial to cling on to, hope was all that remained.
Victor was in excellent physical shape, but he wasn't healthy. That left his genetics and some unknown factors that might, or might not, exist.
Closing her eyes, she leaned back in her chair and sighed. Dear merciful Fates, please don't let me lose him.
"Tired?" Turner walked in and closed the door behind him.
Bridget opened her eyes. "No, just thinking."
"About?"
"This and that." She wasn't ready to reveal the depth of feelings she had developed for him.
He sat on one of the chairs in front of her desk and crossed his legs. "How is the kid doing?"
"Unconscious but stable."
Victor tilted his head toward the door. "Are they going to stay out there until he wakes up?"
She nodded.
"What if it takes all night?"
"They'll stay. Others will bring food, pillows, blankets, and the like. I expect more people will come."
"Why? It doesn't make sense. I know they care for him and are concerned, but you can send a group text to everyone and give them updates. There is no need for them to loiter in the hallway."
It was hard for a man who was empathetically challenged to understand what he considered irrational behavior. Lucky for him, she was very good at explaining things.
"People emit energy. We know that. What is at the moment in the realm of pseudoscience is what that energy can do. Some think that this energy could be positive or negative, and in large concentration either benefit or harm the person it's directed at. Vigils, group prayers, wakes, those are all about people gathering to share their positive energy to help others."
"Does it really work?" He looked skeptical.
"There were some studies done about prayers helping the sick. The only positive results observed were when the patient knew people were praying for them."
"The belief had a placebo effect."
"True. But whatever provides relief to those who suffer should not be dismissed or ridiculed."
Pinning her with his blue-gray stare, Turner asked, "What would you have changed about my apartment?"
Wow. Talk about random.
"Everything. Why?"
"I want you to move in with me."
She lifted a brow. "A few days ago when I suggested you move in with me you said it wasn't a good idea. What has changed?"
"I'm greedy and selfish. Whatever time I have left, I want to spend it with you."
"If you give up the crazy idea of attempting transition, you can have plenty of time with me."
He shook his head. "As I said. I'm greedy. I want all of it, if you'll have me, that is. I want another go at life where I have a family and people who give a damn about me. Maybe even more kids. Do you want to have kids with me? Hypothetically speaking?"
Turner, the most logical and coherent guy Bridget had ever met, was rambling. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you drunk?"
"I'm perfectly sober, I don't have a fever, and I'm not suffering from a mental meltdown. I'm dead serious."
She winced. "Please don't use that word." His looming death was never far from her mind, and that word boomed like thunder in her ears.
He shook his head. "If we were both human or both immortals, would I be good enough for you? Would you consider me as a life partner?"
The answer was easy. "Yes."
Victor let out a breath.
"But you are human, and I'm immortal, and we can't ignore it. Can you live with that?"
"No. I want it all, and I'm not willing to compromise. It's all or nothing. Full life as an immortal by your side, or death."
Again with that damn word.
Bridget shook her head. "There is a third option, and it's the most likely one. You are not a Dormant, and the venom will do nothing for you or to you, and you'll have to undergo chemo and live out your normal human life. What then?"
"Indeed. What then? Would you stay with me? Would Kian allow it?"
"There is no reason for Kian to disallow it. You knew all about us before all of this. But I don't think he would be okay with you living with me here in the keep or the new location."
Victor smiled for the first time since he entered her office. "That's why I asked you what you would
like to change about my apartment."
A laugh bubbled up from deep inside her. As always, Victor was ten steps ahead of her. He'd already known how this conversation would end and had moved to the next step—redecorating his place so it would meet with her approval.
It was both presumptuous and sweet.
Bridget rose to her feet, rounded her desk, and sat in Turner's lap. His arms closed around her, his hard body the perfect receptacle for her soft one.
"A few conditions."
"Shoot."
"You wait a little longer and in the meantime start treatment. I'll feel much better about you attempting transition if your cancer is in remission."
"How long?"
"As long as it takes."
He shook his head as she knew he would. "If it starts working, I'll wait until the treatment is completed. If it doesn't, you approve my transition."
This was the answer she'd hoped for. "Deal."
Rubbing his bald head, Turner smiled sheepishly. "At least I don't have to worry about losing my hair."
Victor wasn't completely bald, but he shaved what little had remained.
"What's the second condition?" he asked.
"You go on a vegan diet."
"No problem. I don't really care what I eat. Next."
"You allow our interior designer to do as she pleases with your place. I trust Ingrid's taste."
"Then I do too. The budget is unlimited."
Bridget touched a finger to his nose. "What if I tell her that I want gold-plated faucets?"
"Fine with me."
His willingness to comply with any whim of hers warmed Bridget from the inside. Not that she would ask for unreasonable luxuries. She was a practical woman with modest tastes. "I was joking. You do realize though, that letting Ingrid into your apartment means your secret hideout will be compromised?"
"I'm fine with Kian knowing my address." He smirked. "After all, it's only fair given that I know where he lives." He leaned to whisper in her ear. "Including the new location."
Crap. Kian was going to explode like a nuclear bomb when he heard that. Other than Brandon, the Guardians, and the Odus, not even clan members knew the location. "Now I'm afraid for your life for a whole different reason. He is going to kill you." And she didn't mean it as a figure of speech.
