"Let's take a walk, Mira." Before she could argue or throw another verbal volley at him, Kellan got out of the car and rounded the hood to her door in less than a second. The speed was deliberate. He figured it couldn't hurt to remind her what she'd be up against if she thought he was playing games. He opened her door and instructed her to get out.
She obeyed, much to his surprise, and he walked her into the peaceful darkness of the empty park.
"I would've expected you to scrub and dump me in the city, not out here."
"I wanted to be alone with you," he said as they strolled along-side each other in the crisp, moonlit grass. "I didn't want to do this in a parking lot somewhere, or be rushed by crowds around us."
"Romantic," she mocked. "I hope there aren't any ra**sts or rebels hiding out between here and Boston proper when I make the walk back to the city."
Kellan ignored the jab. "I'll watch over you once we're done here, make sure you get back to the Order's headquarters safely."
She blew out a sharp exhalation. "Don't do me any favors. I'm a big girl, all grown up, in case you haven't noticed."
Oh, he'd noticed. The first time had been when Mira was about fifteen. Scrappy and stubborn as always, but that year the reed-thin tomboy with her mop of pale-blond hair had emerged seemingly overnight as a powerful young woman with curves in all the right places and legs that went on forever. He wasn't the only male in the Order's training program that summer who lined up to spar with stunning Mira.
But for some reason that still eluded his understanding to this day, she only had eyes for him. Her best friend, she'd dubbed him, from the time she was an annoying eight-year-old, refusing to give up on the sullen teenager who'd come under the Order's protection after the slaying of his entire family, save his grandfather, Lazaro Archer.
Mira was still stunning, even with the passing of eight years since he'd last been this close to her. He could see traces of that time under her eyes and around the full curve of her mouth. She hadn't taken another Breed male as her mate. If she had, their blood bond would have enhanced her beauty. It would halt her aging, keep her youth intact.
There was a time that Kellan imagined he might be the male to stand at Mira's side. He'd wanted that, right up until the morning of the last day he spent with her. Then everything changed. What he wanted became impossible, and later that night, he had simply ceased to exist.
And now, here she was, walking beside him in the dark.
Hating him, as she had every right to.
Still, the urge to touch her was nearly too much for him to resist. But Kellan knew if he touched her now, he would only want more. Things he had no claim on. Things that were now and forever out of his reach.
How had he managed to keep his distance all these years? Not very well, he reminded himself. He hadn't really ever been that far from her. He'd lost count of how many times he'd watched her in secret, both in Boston and Montreal, curious to know how she was faring. Proud to see her accomplishments. Dismayed when her fierce independence - that unyielding stubborn streak - landed her in trouble.
His plan upon waking up and realizing he hadn't been blown to pieces along with the warehouse had been to get as far away from Mira and the Order as he could. It would've been better for everyone if he had. All the more so, given where he stood now. But the simple fact was, he hadn't been able to leave. She had a hold on him that he hadn't been able to break.
He'd told himself he would be careful, that there was no harm in staying close to where she was so long as he ensured their paths never crossed. But if he'd had any honor in him, he would have fled as far as possible, as soon as he'd been given the chance.
Mira's pace slowed beside him, then stopped as she pivoted to face him. "What happened to you inside that warehouse, Kellan?"
He grunted, gave a vague shake of his head. "Does it matter now?"
"It matters to me. I want to know." Her lips pressed together and she gave him an arch look. "Come on. You're going to scrub my memory anyway, so it's not like I'll remember anything you say or do here tonight. If you've got a conscience anymore, this is your perfect chance to clear it - when you know I will only hate you for a few more minutes before you take even that truth away from me."
It was an accusation, one that scathed him more than he wanted to admit. "I have to do this, Mira. It'll be better for everyone this way."
"Definitely better for you, at any rate." Bitter, angry words. She was hurting deeply, understandably so. But it was the sudden downward tilt of her head - the move that wasn't quite fast enough to hide the moist glint of her eyes - that undid him the most.
"You're right," he murmured. "I do owe you that."
"You owe me the truth," she insisted tightly, her pale eyes bright now, nearly dry when she looked up at him again.
She wouldn't allow herself to break in front of him. He could see that in her diamond-sharp gaze. She wouldn't give him that soft part of her. After tonight, never again.
When she spoke, her voice was schooled and level, a soldier recounting facts after battle. "I've seen your death a thousand times in my mind since that night. You were ahead of Nathan and me and the rest of our team, all of us on foot by then, fanned out and patrolling the riverfront after reports of rebel movement down at the industrial park. You radioed that you were in pursuit of several suspects, gave us your location and where you were heading. Nathan and I were closest to the area by then, so we joined up and proceeded in your direction to provide backup. We arrived just in time to see you disappear into the warehouse. Not even two seconds later, the explosion went off."