“I’m fine!” I tell her before she has time to ask.
It’s three p.m. I’ve survived eight hours of work without Branson. I can survive two more. It’s only a hundred and twenty minutes. I can do this.
I’m going to do it.
I’m determined to do it.
Mated people come to work all the time, and they survive. It definitely doesn’t kill them. If they can do it, I can do it.
Oh God. What if work kills me? What an awful way to go.
Sadie sidles up to me and gives me a sympathetic shrug. “I’m not concerned about you, Lucien…” She tilts her head toward the window that faces the street. “It’s the forlorn alpha out there that I’m worried about.”
“There’s a forlorn alpha out there?” I repeat dumbly as I jump to my feet and all but fly to the window.
I look down, smooshing my face against the glass to improve my view. Twenty-one floors down, tiny cars and ant-people mill around. The people are in a state of flux. Moving, walking with brisk purpose. Everyone has somewhere to be or something to do.
The notable exception stands stock still. A wilted bunch of flowers sag in his hand and an old-fashioned face tilts up. His eyes are trained on my company’s floor of the building.
“Oh!” I cry, clutching my chest. “That’smyforlorn alpha!”
My body begins to react before I have time to send any sensible commands to my limbs. I turn, wading through a thick, horrible fog as the bond between my mate and me calls. I tear across the office, hitting the elevator button fifteen times in quick succession as Sadie and the rest of my team watch me wide-eyed.
“Go,” says Sadie, waving me on. “Go, go, go. I’ll bring your bag down for you.”
I clamp my lips together as I ride the elevator down, doing my best to contain the pathetic whimper that’s hellbent on blubbing out of me.
The elevator doors open to the foyer, floor tile glinting where daylight hits. My breath catches. There are approximately thirty yards between me and the exit, and I am determined to cross them with my head held high and my dignity in place.
I take one dignified step and then another. Then I scrap that plan and sprint to the door like a madman, arms and legs flailing so wildly that people jump as I pass them.
“Out of my way,” I bellow. “Newly mated man coming through!Get out of my way!”
I bolt from the building, leaving the revolving doors spinning at a stunning speed. The wind hits my face as Irun, blowing the tears I’ve been holding back all day out of the corners of my eyes.
The flowers Branson is holding drop onto the curb with a softplopand he opens his arms as wide as the sky, as wide as the whole world, and stands firm as I throw myself into them. My feet leave the ground as he plucks me out of the air and crushes me in his embrace.
We make strange, animalistic sounds, pressing our faces into the other’s neck so we can scent each other. Little grunts and snorts gradually turn to moans as our olfactory regions light up in recognition and relief.
“Lucy,” Branson says, shakily stroking my face. “Lucy, I missed you.”
I breathe in his skin, turning my face toward his. “Missed you too. Oh God, I missed you too.”
I lean in to kiss him, and the second our lips touch, the bond explodes into red. Dark red. Blood red.
Crimson.
Cherry.
Wine.
“W-why’s everything gone red?” I ask drunkenly.
Branson pulls me closer and kisses me deeply, parting my lips with his tongue and finding mine. “‘Cause,” he slurs. “Red’s for love, baby.”
29
Lucien
