Page 32 of Mystique of the Fallen
But as Roman wiggled his toes in the sand and wrapped his arms around his knees, he wondered how he’d face him at the ceremony that would grant him his title. There were no simple answers. Roman carried the memory of their brief acquaintance from before Grant’s death, but those were memories the new fallen knight wouldn’t regain.
How should Roman tackle his future? Could he look Grant in those fabulously lime-green eyes and pretend they were meeting for the first time? Since they were mates, Grant wouldn’t have the ability to unearth any lie Roman told. So, if Roman wanted to put the past firmly behind them, he had the necessary tools.
But was it fair? How could they begin a relationship based on a lie? That was assuming they had a future. All confusion aside, Roman wanted a mate. He didn’t know if he could make Grant happy or vice versa, but he refused to pass up the opportunity to find out. Which meant Roman had to move past his shock, his sadness that someone had likely hurt Grant, and learn everything he could about his other half.
Roman had briefly searched on the Internet to discover if he could find any clues about what had happened to Grant. But he didn’t even know the man’s former last name. Roman didn’t know what city he’d lived in. He assumed Grant had lived close to the woman he’d been tailing as a private investigator, but he could also have been flown in for the job. The area code for his phone wasn’t tied to the area he’d met Grant in, and that mattered little. It was possible to have any area code for a mobile phone.
It was a needle-in-a-haystack kind of search and a pointless one. Roman was a damn good detective, but he lacked the vital information he needed to discover the truth. As a fallen knight, he couldn’t contact the humans involved in the one case Roman knew Grant had been working on. Humans wouldn’t help him. Roman had no choice but to accept that Grant’s death would remain a mystery.
Except for in books, movies, and television, Roman had no patience for mysteries—especially when it came to the man Fate had chosen for him. Annoyed at himself for getting stuck in the same cyclical thoughts yet again, Roman blew out an exasperated breath. Dwelling on the past wasn’t the answer.
Which left Roman with the hardest part—making decisions about the future. A future he hoped would someday include Grant. So, once again Roman put himself in the new fallen knight’s shoes. Would he want his mate to tell him about the few phone conversations they’d shared before his unfortunate demise?
Roman grimaced. They hadn’t been the best chats. The last thing Roman wanted to recall was Grant’s boyfriend or the job he’d accepted that could free a man still facing an upcoming felony trial for attempted murder. Their last call had held promise. Grant had wanted to change his life and required space to do so.
Would Roman want to learn that he’d had a boyfriend or that he’d called his other half a zombie if that had been his life? Roman had to admit that he’d prefer to be left in the dark. But was that what Grant would want? It wasn’t as if Roman could ask unless he was prepared to dump those details on the man so soon after his resurrection.
Grant needed to find himself. To discover his passions. To get settled in his job and figure out his favorite food. Or whether he liked sunny days or snowy mountains. Roman wanted him to have the freedom to spread his wings unhindered by the ghosts of his past.
Roman rested his forehead on his knees. That was it. His decision was made. Right or wrong, Roman would keep his silence. Once he knew Grant better, Roman could determine when it was best to tackle the past. Resolute and content to have a clear path ahead of him, Roman promised he’d give himself another day or two to settle his heart.
Then he’d return to work and prepare himself for the day he’d have the honor of placing a magical patch on Grant’s formal uniform with VK on it. The patch would represent the title Grant was busting his ass to earn. It was a nice thought, and part of Roman was eager for the next several weeks to fly by.
The rest of him was scared shitless.
Chapter 13
With only a week to go before graduation, Grant was flying high. Ranks weren’t discussed until training was complete, but their scores were posted regularly. Grant would be a Venerable Knight. All the leaders of the fallen knights worked in Las Vegas, so he’d be assigned to the city where he’d trained. It was thrilling and a touch scary.
Since his resurrection, Grant had experienced a mixture of emotions. However, the one that rose above the rest was happiness. It was such an honor for his soul to have been chosen as a fallen knight that Grant refused to do anything but face each day with honor and dignity. Yes, he’d died. Grant didn’t forget that. But it hardly mattered.
As someone resurrected to ferret out answers, there’d always be a part of him that wondered about his past. But the spell which had granted him this second chance had cleared his memory permanently. So, it was useless to bother with any questions that popped into Grant’s mind about his previous life.
Plus, it was infinitely more exciting to focus on his future.
Grant was incredibly proud that he’d be part of the leadership of his race. It was also intimidating, but that was because doing his job well mattered to him. Grant wanted to be an asset to his people and to the Council.
“Earth to Grant,” Arvandus called out.
Grant’s cheeks pinkened. He’d completely zoned out during class. It was rude, but the reality was he’d learned nothing recently. Grant had reviewed his textbooks so often, he practically had them memorized. Their daily classes benefited the other recruits, but Grant had trouble staying focused on the repetitive nature of the lectures.
“Sorry, VK,” Grant said with a grimace. “My mind wandered. I apologize to you and my classmates.”
“Probably daydreaming about himself in his new VK uniform,” FK1 Scott Avitus teased, his blue eyes brimming with humor.
Arvandus lifted a blond brow. “No titles have been granted yet.”
“Please, VK, we can all read,” FK1 Lara Drusus replied. “Grant’s been kicking ass and taking names since the first day.”
“He has yet to kick the ass of the Lich Sentinel or any Skeleton Lord,” remarked a dark-haired sentinel recruit named Jacob Macmoran.
“As I recall, he did not take down either RK either,” added fellow sentinel Kerrick Darkmoore.
“Hello, he’s not that elite. Fate didn’t intend him to be. Stop trying to make him feel bad,” FK1 Jerica Salvius retorted.
Jacob’s green gaze widened. “I didn’t intend to shame Grant. I was pointing out an indisputable fact.”
“Friendly reminder that sentinels go with logic first,” Arvandus mused with a smile. “Trust me, you get used to it. In fact, I prefer it. With a sentinel, you never have to guess their motives. They speak the truth and expect the same from you.”
