Watching Turner walk out the gym, Bridget frowned. Something must have spooked him. But what?

It certainly wasn't the little show of aggression, or the sight of Kian's elongated fangs. A man like Turner must've seen things way worse than this tame display.

Perhaps it was the slam poetry. Bridget chuckled quietly. It was so bad that at some point she'd felt like punching the kid herself.

Roni had outdone himself. Had he copied the vile stuff, or had he written it himself? Or maybe he had some help from his friends? She would have to ask him later.

If he had written it, the kid needed therapy.

As Roni's eyes rolled back in his head, Kian lowered him gently to the mat and sat beside him. Sylvia joined him, lifting Roni's head and cradling it in her lap.

Bridget could leave now. All that remained was to wait until the kid shook off the effects of the venom. If they needed her, they could call her.

Out in the corridor, she found Turner leaning against the wall, his hands braced on his thighs, his head between his outstretched arms.

"Are you nauseous?"

He shook his head.

"What's going on? Talk to me." She put her hand on his shoulder.

"I just needed to get out of there. How is the kid doing?"

"Unconscious. But that's normal. He is going to shake it off in a few moments."

"Don't you need to be there for him?"

"They know how to get me. Come on, let's go upstairs."

As he pushed away from the wall, she noticed his color wasn't good. His skin looked pasty.

"On second thought, maybe we should go to my clinic. Do you feel feverish? Do you have a headache?"

He shook his head after each question.

"Any physical discomfort?"

"No."

Okay…

If it weren't Turner, she would have suspected an emotional meltdown. Victor Turner was not capable of that, and certainly not over a friendly match between people who cared for each other.

Silent and brooding, he followed her to the elevator and then to her apartment.

"Vodka?" Bridget asked.

"What do you have?"

"I got a bottle of Grey Goose just for you."

"Thank you."

She poured him a shot, mixed herself a cocktail of Goose and ginger ale, tucked the bottle of vodka under her arms and took everything to the living room.

"Come sit with me and tell me what's wrong."

Back straight, shoulders squared, Victor did a good impersonation of a broomstick as he walked over and sat beside her.

Maybe she could get him to loosen up with several shots of vodka. "Another?" She lifted the bottle as he threw the shot down his throat.

With a grimace, he held up his glass. "Please."

Bridget waited until he was done with the second one as well. "Did you get some upsetting news?" She hadn't seen him look at his phone, but then her attention had been focused elsewhere. Out of all the scenarios she'd run through her head, this was the only one that made sense.

Elbows on knees, cradling the empty glass in his hands, Turner shook his head again.

Fates, having him open up was like pulling teeth with tweezers. "You can't just sit there, looking miserable as if your world is collapsing around you, and not say anything. Come on, Victor. It's not going to kill you to share your burden with someone. Besides, I'm a doctor, I'm used to people dumping their crap on me. It's part of my job."

She was being crass, but compassion and sweet talk weren't going to help Turner pull the stick out of his ass.

When he lifted his head and looked at her, she was startled by the storm raging in his gray eyes. Who was that, and what had he done with Turner?

"I want what Roni has."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? For Turner's sake, he had better not be talking about wanting Sylvia.

"Like what? Acne?"

That got a smile out of him. "I can do without that. In eighth grade, I had the worst case of acne. It was so bad that I didn't want to go to school."

"What did you do?"

"I convinced my grandparents that the school couldn't teach me anything and I would learn more on my own."

"Did they agree?"

He chuckled. "At that point, they did whatever I asked of them. They were scared of me. We signed up for homeschooling, and I completed my studies on my own in half the time. I graduated high school at sixteen."

"Impressive."

He shrugged. "Not really. I had nothing else to do, so I studied."

Little by little he was showing her glimpses of himself, of his life, and all of it was just plain sad—a lonely kid who'd grown up into a lonely man.

"So what does Roni have that you want so badly?"

"Friends, family, people who care about him. A sense of belonging somewhere. Immortality to enjoy it all. I don't know why it affected me as it did. I've been to weddings and bar mitzvahs and quinceañeras and other joyous occasions that were all about family and friends. But for some reason, it only hit home today how isolated I am. Maybe it's because of the cancer, maybe facing a potentially terminal disease disturbed my equilibrium. I don't know, and I hate not knowing."

Bridget put her hand on his thigh. "Maybe it's because you empathize with Roni. Did someone tell you his story?"

"No."

Strange. Maybe Turner had hidden empathetic ability and had connected with Roni on a subconscious level.

"His story is very similar to yours. He is also brilliant, he had no friends growing up, and his family preferred to interact as little as possible with him. At fifteen or sixteen, he hacked into secret government stuff and got caught, but instead of sending him to jail, they offered him a job. He was basically under house arrest with a handler monitoring his activities. Naturally, his parents weren't too happy about the arrangement. When he reached eighteen, Roni asked for a place of his own, so his bosses gave him an apartment in the building he'd been working in. He lived inside that agency ever since. A kid surrounded by agents who talked to him only when they needed him for something. When not working, he wasn't allowed any electronics, and no one ever spent any time with him. The closest he had to a friend was his handler."

"How did he get out?"

She smirked. "We helped him escape. But the important point is that he was a loner up until then. The love and friendships you've witnessed are very new."

"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."