CHAPTER 22
Oliver felt like he was walking on air. His feet barely skimmed the sidewalk as he left Clare’s apartment. No matter how often he tried to pull himself together, he was leaking sunshine from every pore.
Which, for a creature of the dark, felt kinda strange.
Happiness.
Was that what the feeling was?
He tried to be logical. Clearly her blood had rejuvenated him. It had tasted more beautiful and sustaining than any he’d partaken of in those long, dark years of misery. Or maybe it had tasted that way because he had changed.Shehad changed him. Given him hope, purpose, something to strive for.
What exactly are you striving for, man?
Her respect.
Her… love.
He tried to push away the feeling, tried to curb it. This weightless, joyful sensation was alien to him, but it kept bubbling up inside him, making him want to laugh. Around him, the world was suddenly multi-colored, no longer shades of gray. Gods, he was never one for going out in the sun, too much madehim come out in hives, but today, fuck it, he could bask in its glow with no ill effects.
He kept reliving that kiss.
When her lips touched his, it was like his body and soul had ignited. He recalled the way her leg had thrust between his, her belly pressing into him, her hands tugging at his shirt with such urgency.
Yes. She would have let him take her right there.
And he had been so close to doing so.
Except, a spark of sanity had held him back.
Because he sensed that if they fucked… no, damn it, if they madelove—it would heighten his fears of losing her. He wouldn’t be able to think straight.
You already can’t. You mind is mush.
So is your heart.
Somehow, that thought merely made his smile widen as he sped along the cobbled streets to his house.
He let himself in, the door echoing as he closed it on so many empty rooms, so many ornate pieces of useless crap.
A mausoleum, when it could be a real home. The way Grayson’s was a home with Maisie’s sweet presence there each day. To warm his bed each night.
For all the gods’ sake man, cool your jets.
There was a crime to solve, more problems emerging than you could poke a stick at. Not just with the missing humans, but now a grimaald had broken through the security system they’d erected years ago, and worse, it had been almost invisible. Were the two things related?
He knew what he needed to do. Yoga and meditation would ground him, bring the energy up from his base chakra into his head, back to logic and rationality.
In his bedroom, he shucked out of his suit and bloodied shirt and found a pair of loose tracksuit pants and a soft cotton t-shirt.
Then he went to his meditation room, a quiet, austere space, and laid out his mat. For many moments, he stood in the tree pose and breathed.
For the next half hour he went through his routine—a dozen sun salutes, followed by warrior poses, then finally, he sat in the lotus position, legs crossed.
How long he stayed like this, Oliver was unsure, but the energy stabilized and became clear. His limbs felt loose, his spine relaxed, yet poised.
He spoke his mantra, the ancient words of the Hale clan.
Reventa ete carva
