I’ve truly never known such a sweet heart. She’s innocent in a way I could never be. Even after the trauma she’s suffered, she never let any of it darken her soul.
Before I start mixing up the pancakes, I go out onto the porch and look out into the gray dawn. The sun is climbing above the horizon and beginning to clear the air, promising a bright blue sky and killer heat for later in the day. Even though I know someone will be awake in the hall, I decide not to meet up with the others just yet.
I want to enjoy this perfect morning with Sara for as long as I can, before our duties in the world take us out of this perfect place we’ve found.
Back in the kitchen, I stir up pancake batter and oil a frying pan, whistling to myself as I make breakfast. I take mytime, and once I’ve got a decent stack of pancakes made, I begin to wonder where Sara is.
If she’s really that tired, I’ll just put them in the oven to keep warm and then catch up with Rex. I don’t want to wake her.
When I get to the bedroom door, it takes me a moment to understand what I’m seeing. I take two slow steps into the room, then charge over to the bed, hurling pillows and blankets to the floor.
“Sara?” I say, spinning around to check the rest of the room.
The bathroom. Chill out, she’s probably in the bathroom.
I jog down the hall and knock on the door, only to have it swing open slowly with a long, almost apologetic creak.
Panic surges in me, but years of dealing with high emotion kick in at exactly the same time, making my senses sharper and honing my instincts. I stride quickly back to the bedroom and take a deep breath, following her scent to the window.
“Sara?” I say, barely stirring the morning air with my voice.
Okay. Just think this through.
My first thought is that something terrible has happened to her, but the odds of someone kidnapping her when I was so close by are slim.
They’d have to be lightning-fast and deadly silent to pull that off.
The other possibility is that she left of her own will. That idea wrings my heart out so tightly, my hands and feet feel numb.
She wouldn’t leave me. Not after what we shared last night.
I turn around and take a look around the room. There is absolutely no sign of a struggle, and no smell of blood. The room also feels peaceful, and after seeing a lot of violence in my life, I know that places seem to hold a disturbed air for some time after the act has happened—and this room is as still as a tomb.
As I look around, I notice the closet door is hanging open. I head over to it, frowning.
Was this open before?
I tilt my head as I look at it, trying to remember if it was open when I woke up. The images overlap in my mind, and I curse under my breath as I admit I truly don’t know.
Did she leave me?
I look in the closet, but I don’t know the contents well enough to know if anything is missing. I practically stagger back to the bed and sit on the edge, my head in my hands.
Sara wanted to leave here…
The thought cuts through me, a sharp pain right through the chest. I remember her voice when she talked about leaving for the human world, how free and light she sounded.
But last night…
A soft groan echoes in my chest as loss sets its heavy weight into my chest. The first time Sara let me make love to her, I betrayed her. I was playing a role to fool her father, but it still gutted her and broke her trust.
Why do I deserve any better?
For just a brief moment, I allow myself to panic. My heart speeds up, my breath burns my throat, and my thoughts spin like a compass needle too close to the pole.
Maybe she left. Maybe she got taken. Either way, I have to know what happened, and I don’t have much time.
Jumping up, it only takes seconds to throw on some clothes, and a minute later, I’m jogging up to the hall and banging on the back door.
