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“I have to help them.”
Toni frowned. “Did Laria ask you to come?”
She had him there.
“It doesn’t matter. I have a duty—”
“To yourself. To let go of your guilt and trust your siblings—just like they’re asking you to.”
The words felt like a whipcrack, and without thinking, he snapped back, “You talk of letting go of guilt—”
“Don’t you dare make this about me.”
He’d not wanted to depart on such terms, but maybe her anger was better. Easier for her to handle than sorrow.
“It’s about both of us, Toni. Maybe I cannot take my own advice.” He forged ahead, hating himself. “But you are as stuck in your life, maybe more so, than I am in mine. All because of a vow you made to people who are no longer with us.”
“Those people,” she spat, “were my parents.”
Lawrence hadn’t intended to take it so far.
Though they’d never used the word “love,” he was sure Toni felt the same way he did. And instead of nurturing that love, he was tossing it away as surely as he was choosing his siblings over himself.
But what alternative did he have? How could he possibly live with himself if yet another of his siblings died on his watch?
“Ah, Toni, you said it best. ‘It’s easier said than done.’ Laria and Torr need me—”
“You need them to need you.”
He tensed, not caring if her words were true or not. “Either way, I’m going,” he said as much to himself as to her.
“And you’ll be coming back when?” she asked, sounding less and less like she cared.
“I don’t know. A few weeks, months . . .”
The pain in her eyes bit into him. Lawrence already felt the regret.
“Good.” She angrily wiped an errant tear from the corner of her eye.
Stripped of his defenses, Lawrence could feel his finely honed control slipping. He watched the vein in her neck, smelling the sweet scent of her blood, something he typically blocked out quite easily.
Bloodlust.
The original vampires rarely felt it any longer, but the memory of it was unmistakable. So was the memory of the death and devastation they had all wrought before the Balance. Before they learned to control what they were.
He took a step back.
“I’m sorry.”
No two less adequate words had ever been spoken, but he had to leave. For her sake. For Laria and Torr.
For Alec.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, forcing himself to turn away. He walked quickly and didn’t look back, as if each step could erase the memory of the moment Toni had realized he was really leaving.
He avoided the bank, the two-story structure that would memorialize the life he’d wanted but couldn’t have. The life he’d been a fool to covet.
A chief who didn’t age could never retire.
