Page 13 of Polestar
He glanced back over his shoulder.“I don’t know that she’s right, but she’s not wrong.”
Ana snorted.“Cryptic as ever.”
He slowed his brisk pace.“You know what I mean.”
“I know, but we don’t have a choice.”
He stopped walking.She stopped to face him.
“If your emotions block your ability—.”
“I know.And I told Carson I wasn’t ready.How can I be?”her voice cracked, “My ability was useless to save Antony and his crew, Jack.I tried to warn him, and it made no difference.He died.They all died anyway.How can I trust that?I thought he could save them if he just knew—.”She swallowed down anymore words.
Jack nodded.He understood.He always did.
She’d been having nightmares since the accident.A routine naval exercise gone wrong.Antony and his crew were never recovered from the ocean.
Controlling her grief, she straightened.“But I have to at least try.Any information I can glean is better than no information.You said so when you started training me.”
“As long as you can allow enough information in to interpret it correctly and not let your personal emotions taint it.”
He resumed walking.Ana followed until they arrived back at her door again.
“Go through the practices tonight.Rest and find your balance.”
“Thanks, Jack.For everything.”
“You’re a good agent, Ana.I know you need more time.Anyone would after a loss like that.But, yes, time is essential, and we need you.”He rubbed a hand over his cleanly shaved scalp.“I’ll see you in the morning before you leave,” he said, and departed back the way they’d come.
She watched him till he rounded the corner and turned back to her door.Hand on the knob, she glanced to the other end of the hall, where she’d seen Magnus go earlier.
Is that his room?
Memories of Magnus Bjornson over the last twenty-four hours flickered through her mind.She was going to be working directly with him.
She twisted the doorknob and entered her room.
Shower first, then practice.
I have no time to waste on thoughts of bearish pilots that smell nice.Reallynice.
Atthesoundofhurried footsteps, Magnus glanced up from pouring his coffee into a travel mug.
AgentOrtega, no doubt.
Seconds later, the woman in question entered through the open door of the breakfast room.
Today she wore a pantsuit and more reasonable shoes.
Her dark hair tumbled down so that it framed her face, making her dark eyes look larger in her small face.
She straightened her shoulders and breezed toward the spread of croissants, scones, muffins, and pastries he had no names for.
The scent that was uniquely hers, mingled with coconut and vanilla, drifted past his nose.
“Good morning,” she mumbled, reaching for the raspberry jam and a scone.“Not hungry?”
“Nope.”Magnus had eaten a full breakfast between his six a.m.run around the estate grounds, first in his human form, then in his animal form, and a morning shower.His coffee in hand was, in fact, his third of the day—so far.
