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.

"Not if you don't tell him."

Bridget went rigid in Turner's arms. "Don't you dare put me in this position. I'm a council member, and my loyalty to the clan is absolute." If Turner were her truelove match, her one destined mate, she would have had a difficult dilemma. But they weren't even in love.

There was plenty of like and lust, enough to provide a good foundation for a lasting relationship, but it wasn't the all-consuming bond truelove mates shared.

He tightened his grip. "Easy, tigress, sheath your claws. I will never do that. And don't worry about Kian. I know how to handle him."

"I think you overestimate your esteem in his eyes. I'm a council member, and even I don't know where the new place is."

"The information is safe with me, and no one else has a clue. Kian is doing a good job at covering such a huge project up, but I can help him secure it even better."

That might be the only thing that kept Kian from ending Turner's life. "It'd better be good. And be careful about how you tell him that. Kian has a short temper. He might kill you first and regret it later."

Victor didn't seem concerned in the least. "Don't worry about it. I got it. What's the next condition?"

Bridget took in a long calming breath. "You move in with me while your place is getting remodeled and redecorated."

"Deal. Next."

"This is a trial. We might discover that living together is not working out. The money spent on redoing your place might be wasted."

"I don't give a damn about that. Besides, I'm positive we are going to get along great."

Probably.

She liked having him around. And it didn't even matter if they were doing things together or not. Victor could be busy working on his laptop or sitting on her balcony and just thinking, and it was fine. His presence was reassuring and comforting. They fit together well.

But as much as she tried not to think about it, as much as she tried to convince herself that this should suffice, a small part of her yearned for more. She wanted what Syssi and Kian had, what Andrew and Nathalie shared, Tessa and Jackson, Eva and Bhathian…

Love, hot and all-consuming.

A mate she couldn't breathe without.

Girlish fantasies. Not everyone was blessed with a truelove mate. Even in the time of the gods, it had been rare.

She should thank the Fates for what she had and pray for Victor's life. A number of healthy decades if he wasn't a Dormant, or immortality if he was.

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