A gentle kiss woke Bridget up.

“It’s noon. We should get going,” Victor said.

“Noon? Oh, wow. That was a good sleep.” She stretched her arms over her head.

Bridget had woken up a few times during the morning hours, but since no one had demanded she get out of bed, she’d gone back to sleep. After all, it was Sunday, and everything was good in her world. Victor had finally admitted that he loved her and she’d admitted the same to him.

It was a new stage in their relationship. It was exciting, marvelous, and she’d been afraid to wake up and find out that it had been a dream, or that she’d imagined it.

“Yeah. Most everyone is gone already. Julian went home hours ago.”

With a sigh, Bridget flung the comforter off and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I can be ready in ten minutes.”

“I’ll make you coffee.”

“Thanks.”

Was it her imagination, or did he seem a little off?

Bridget shook her head. Victor was just being Victor. Some silly romantic part of her had expected to wake up to a changed man that smiled and told her he loved her at least every five minutes.

But that wasn’t the guy she’d fallen for. She’d be lucky to hear those words coming out of Victor’s mouth once a day, if that. Probably once a week. Or once every anniversary—provided they were lucky and everything turned out okay.

Don’t be greedy.

All throughout her five-minute shower, Bridget kept reminding herself to be thankful for what she had and not to wish for more. Well, wishing for more was fine, but bemoaning what was lacking was not.

No one was perfect, and no relationship was perfect either, not even those that seemed to be.

Only hopeless romantics believed in a perfect mashing of two people into one entity. She wouldn't have wanted that even if it were possible.

The way she thought of a healthy relationship was two complete and independent circles that overlapped only partially, creating a common wedge between them. Some couple’s wedge was wider than others, but a complete overlap was unhealthy because it meant that one circle swallowed the other.

When she got out of the bathroom, Victor was waiting for her with a steaming mug of coffee. “I packed my stuff and yours in the laundry bag, but I didn’t know what you wanted to wear, so I didn’t pack any of your clean things.”

“Thank you.”

Someone was in a hurry.

Bridget took a few sips of coffee before putting the mug down on the nightstand.

“Do you want something to eat?” Victor asked.

“No, it’s fine.” She picked the outfit she wanted to wear from the suitcase and handed Victor the towel before sitting on the bed. “Could you please put it in the laundry bag?” She pulled her panties on.

Unfortunately, they were not in a hotel, and there was no one to come clean after them. They’d brought the towels with them.

“Sure. Can I pack your toiletries too?”

“Yeah. I’m not going to bother with makeup.”

He leaned and kissed her lips lightly. “You don’t need any. You’re beautiful the way you are.”

“Thank you.” She beamed up at him.

When Victor said things like that, he meant them. It wasn’t flattery or empty words to make her feel good.

That was the flip side of what Victor perceived as his lack of charm. He didn’t have a romantic repertoire, and he didn’t give a lot of compliments, but whenever he did it was sincere.

They spent a few moments cleaning up, leaving the house in the same condition they’d found it. A couple of robotic floor vacuums were programmed to sweep the place once a week, but there was no way to automate dust cleaning from the other surfaces, like tables and chairs and counters, which meant that until they moved in permanently, everything had to be covered.

If they moved in.

Don’t even think of it.

But it was easier said than done. The uncertainty of their future was never too far from the forefront of her mind.

On their way to the underground parking structure, Turner stopped at the village square. “How did they clean it up so fast?”

“I guess it was a combined effort.”

“You think the Guardians pitched in? They were all drunk as hell last night. I was sure everyone would be passed out and nursing a hangover.”

Bridget shrugged. “Some of them might be. But don’t forget you’re talking about immortal Scotsmen. They have quite the capacity. Still, I think most of the work was done by the Odus.”

“Fascinating creatures. I would love to tinker with one and see how it’s made.”

“Not allowed. They are too precious.”

“I bet. I would hate to see the technology fall into the wrong hands. Imagine an army of them.” Victor held the elevator door open for her.

“I guess that’s why Annani prohibits it.”

The elevator lurched, going down so fast it made Bridget’s stomach uncomfortable.

“Does she have the ultimate say in everything?” Victor asked as they exited at the garage level.

“The Odus belong to her. They were a gift from her betrothed. The four serving her children are technically on loan.”

“What about other things?”

Victor opened the trunk of Bridget’s village car, as she referred to the specially modified vehicle, and dropped their luggage inside.

“It depends. She doesn't interfere in most things. But it’s up to her. So ultimately she has the final say.”

Bridget sat behind the wheel and waited until he joined her on the passenger side.

“Am I not allowed to drive this car?”

“Do you want to drive?”

“No. I just wondered.”

Bridget engaged the autonomous driving and leaned back in the driver seat. “Kian didn’t say anything to that effect.”

A grimace appeared on his face and then disappeared in a nanosecond, but she’d caught it. “What is it? Are you mad at him for yesterday?”

“No.”

Okay…

Not all was well in Victor’s world if he was back to yes or no answers.

“Let’s plot to get back at him,” she said to lighten the mood. “What can you do that he cannot compete with?”

“Die.”

Wow. It seemed Victor’s world was worse than not well. It was undergoing a major earthquake.

Why was he in such a crappy mood? Was it about last night’s unintended declaration of love?

But then only moments ago he’d seemed fine, discussing the Odus and Annani in his usual curious manner. Bridget went over every word in her head, trying to figure out what the trigger had been, but came up with nothing.

“What’s eating you, Victor? Are you sorry that you told me you loved me?”

Her question seemed to have startled him. “No, of course not. I’m glad I did that.”

“Then what? You’re worrying me.”

He looked at her with haunted eyes. “What if I’m not a Dormant?”

“That was always the most likely possibility.”

“For you. Not for me. In my gut, I believed that I was.”

“What changed?”

He shook his head, opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

Her phone rang. As a quick glance revealed Kian’s face on the screen, she pressed a button on the steering wheel to sync the call with the car’s audio system.

“Bridget.” His deep voice came booming out of the car speakers.

“Hi, Kian. I’m here with Victor.”

“Good. I need both of you. Get ready. Tonight at nine we are having the induction ceremony.”

A lump formed in Bridget’s throat. Kian had said that he wanted to do it after the wedding, but she hadn’t expected him to do it the very next day.

“What’s the rush?” She glanced at Victor.

His expression remained impassive as if the conversation didn’t concern him.

“I thought you wanted it done as soon as possible.”

“Yes, that’s true. I just didn’t expect it today.”

“Annani is leaving tomorrow, and I asked her to give Turner her blessing. She did it for Syssi and Andrew when they were transitioning; I thought it wouldn’t hurt to try it on Turner. You never know what mumbo-jumbo might actually work.”

That had finally brought out a reaction from Victor. “Thank you. I’m deeply honored that she would do that for me.”

“You should be.”