Drew glared at him. “I have no intention of marrying again. If I gain any immortality in this world, it will be through my work.”
Lindsay made a disgusted noise. “That’s it? You’re going to work? Work for the rest of your life? Christ, you’d be better off having some brats. At least they’realive. Buildings aren’t.”
“Buildings last longer than any one person’s lifetime,” Drew bit out. “They stand for something more important.”
“There’snothingmore important than life.”
“Of course there is! What about beauty, rationality—civilisation itself?”
“What about them?” Lindsay retorted. “You know what the real truth is, Drew? You can design buildings and stilllive. You say your work is your life because you’re terrified of how you feel, and—”
“You haven’t the faintest idea how I feel!”
“Yes, I do!” Lindsay cried. “Don’t you think Iknowhow terrifying it is when you realise the thing you desire most is something the world hates?”
Drew opened his mouth to reply but no words came out. He just stared at Lindsay, his gaze distraught.
Lindsay rose from the bed, unashamedly naked, and crossed the floor to where Drew stood, half-dressed. His skin was marked with grazes from Drew’s incipient beard and spattered with his dried spend—and inside, he was just as much of a mess, angry and sad and bitter.
Drew had closed his eyes at Lindsay’s approach, as though he couldn’t bear to look at him, and when Lindsay reached out a hand and gently touched his cheek, Drew flinched. The tiny physical rejection made Lindsay’s heart ache.
“Drew, listen to me,” he said, pleading now. “This is not an easy thing to accept about yourself, but when youdoaccept it—”
Drew opened his eyes and Lindsay broke off. The bleak misery in the man’s gaze wasn’t to be borne. He said hoarsely, “Please, Lindsay. Let it go.”
Lindsay’s heart twisted so painfully in his chest he was astonished he could still breathe. He let his hand drop to his side.
At length he said dully, “I’ll get dressed and leave you in peace.”
The relief that washed over Drew’s harshly handsome features was, perhaps, the worst thing of all.
Lindsay dressed quickly, efficiently, and without looking at Drew. Once ready, he followed Drew out of the bedchamber and down the corridor to the front door that led out into the stairwell.
Drew paused there, his hand on the doorknob. Their gazes caught and held.
After several beats of silence, Lindsay whispered, “I’m sorry, Drew.” And he was—for so much. He was sorry for pursuing Drew when the man had not wanted to be pursued, even if hehaddesperately needed what Lindsay had given him. He was sorry for making Drew face up to his own desires and admit them, when he could see that Drew had not wanted to do so. He was sorry that now he would be leaving Drew to cope with that new knowledge alone.
Drew didn’t respond to his apology. He just opened the door and said, quietly, “Good bye, Lindsay.”
Lindsay lingered, meeting Drew’s grey-blue gaze one last time. But there was nothing there to hold him. No encouragement and no regret.
“Please, Lindsay. Let it go.”
“Goodbye,” Lindsay replied. Then he left without another word, his wolf already mourning.
