Prologue
Another year, another Christmas. And another gray hair.
Hardwicke leaned over the sink in the office bathroom, examining his left temple. Once upon a time, his hair had been a glossy mane of pure jet black – but, he had to admit, those days were well and truly over now. As he’d gotten older he’d found his hair had gone from black to a far more decided salt and pepper shade – but now, there was no denying it at all. The gray hairsfaroutnumbered the black now, and it wouldn’t be too long until they overtook his head completely.
Vanity isn’t very becoming,he reminded himself as, sighing, he forced himself to turn away from the mirror.
Was it really vanity though, he asked himself as he pushed the bathroom doors open, heading out into the empty office. There was no one here but him – itwasChristmas, after all, or at least the week before Christmas, and all the agents in his team had gone to spend time with their families – and their mates.
Hardwicke knew what the team said about him: that as a boss he was a hardass; that he’d only ever smiled once in his life and he hadn’t enjoyed it; that he didn’t sleep, he just reactivated himself every morning at his desk when it was time to start work.
Despite his reputation as having no sense of humor whatsoever, Hardwicke couldn’t help but smile just alittleas he found his way back to his private office. Well, all those things people said about him weren’t exactlywrong, were they? It was a deserved reputation: he reallydidthink about nothing but work. He reallydidexpect the best from his team. And he reallydidsmile only on the rarest of occasions.
He liked to think he was a strict but fair boss – and when it came to allowing his five-man team a vacation over Christmas to spend time with their mates, no one could ever accuse him of being a stick-in-the-mud about it.
In fact, he’d actively encouraged it in the past – if an agent under his control wanted some time to go be with their mate over a holiday, then he’d allow it, no questions asked. One year, he’d even signed and submitted Garrett’s leave requestforhim, since it had been clear to Hardwicke that the dragon shifter had badly needed the time off, and he wasn’t going to ask himself.
That was dragon shifters all over, Hardwicke thought, shaking his head. Bullheaded, stubborn, and fiery. Garrett had burst in almost ready to start an argument about it, no matter what Hardwicke’s reputation was like for not taking any shit – but he knew Garrett had been grateful for it later, because the vacation he’d been sent on was where he’d found his mate, Georgia, and ever since then it had been obvious that Garrett had been deliriously happy.
As the years had gone by, all of Hardwicke’s other agents had found their mates too – Rowan had found Emilia and her vast collection of rescue animals, Beau had found Annie and her talent for baking, Declan had found Callie dressed as an elf working for a mall Santa, and Noah had found Willow, with her home repairs business. Each of them had found the happiness every shifter hoped to find from the day when their parents sat them down and explained what a mate was.
A mate was what completed you as a shifter. A mate was what your life needed. A mate was your home, no matter how far you traveled.
That was what Hardwicke had been told as a child, and he’d always believed it as he’d grown up, waiting for the day he’d be old enough to meet his own mate and know she was the person he was destined to spend his life with.
But things didn’t work out like that, did they?Hardwicke thought, feeling his lip twisting before he could stop it. He quickly wiped the grimace off his face, even though there was no one else around to see it. He didn’t want to get out of the habit of keeping his face coolly blank. It was one of his trademarks, after all – he never got angry, he just got disappointed. Which, as everyone knew, was much, much worse.
Things hadn’t worked out the way he’d dreamed they would at all.
Oh, of course he’d found his mate.
He’d been only twenty-three at the time, fresh-faced, bright-eyed. Back then, he’d really believed everything had worked out as it was supposed to.
But then –
Shaking his head, Hardwicke pushed the thought from his mind.
It didn’t do any good to rake over old memories. That couldn’t lead to anything except bitterness, and Hardwicke was already plenty bitter enough about how things had gone down.
There hadn’t been anything left for him after that except to throw himself into his work – which he’d done, with gusto.
He’d been the most successful Shifter Patrol Corps agent of his generation – he’d been awarded, commended, praised and promoted. His own bosses back in the day had told him they’d never seen anyone so dedicated, so passionate, and so committed.
Of course, they’d been right – Hardwicke had been all of those things.
But what his superiorshadn’tknown was that all his dedication, passion and commitment to his job was covering up the wound in his heart – a wound that, to this day, still hadn’t healed.
But how does a shifter overcome the wound of being rejected by their mate?his pegasus spoke up suddenly, shifting its wings restlessly.It is impossible. It cannot be done. It’s a wound that festers, and never heals.
Hardwicke could feel his lips pressing together into a thin, hard line.
His pegasus was right, of course – but he hadn’t really needed the reminder right at this juncture. He waswellaware of the festering wound in his heart, and he had been for the last twenty-odd years.
Or has it been even longer than that now?
He shouldn’t kid himself, though – he could remember to the day how long it had been since he’d seen his mate’s face.
Twenty-two years, seven months, two weeks and one day.
