Page 11 of Haze

As I open my apartment door, calmness washes over me. The large windows let in the setting sun, warming the main living space and making it feel cozy. I take my shoes off by the door and walk toward the back of the unit to the bedroom. The California king bed waits for me with plush, fuzzy blankets and soft, fluffy pillows.

We need to find him. We can’t be without him now. We know he’s here. You can work out your stubborn pride later, but let him take care of us. My wolf protests loudly. But, as I’ve done hundreds of thousands of times, I tune her out.

After taking my makeup off and checking my messages one last time, I crawl into the sanctuary of my bed and try to relax. There’s no function, no urgent, pressing matters, nothing that needs me more than I need the silence and stillness of the night.

Chapter 4

Lena

Thalia’s dad, Darren Clark, had purchased an apartment in the city while we were rebuilding the pack house. And while he loved it, he volunteered to take an assignment in Europe as a consultant of some nature until we could finish the pack house and a separate free-standing cabin for him. Somedays, I wish I could have gone with him. Home building is not for the faint of heart, and I’m over it.

Darren evacuating the country, and subsequently, his apartment in the city, is perfect because I was able to move into the space. With the pack house a pretty good drive away, commuting even three days a week was draining. The apartment building is two miles from the university and six miles from the lab.

Normally I walk rather than take the bus or my SUV, but today I drive.

Knowing Finn, my most likely, probably, begrudgingly, do I dare say the word, mate, is in the city and was so close to my apartment and the campus, I’m extra cautious on my way into the lab. The less I walk, the shorter the scent trail to follow.

We could look for him. My wolf remembers his broad shoulders and the way he said our name.

Her wants don’t matter. We’re not hunting down Finn O’Brien. We’re not embracing this idea that we could have a fated mate. That’s ridiculous.

Even if he is, we can’t have him. We won’t be able to keep him. He’ll have a life in Ireland. There is no way in fucking hell I’m giving up my research for a man. We’re so fucking close to a breakthrough. I can practically taste it.

* * *

I’ve never been accused of being the first one in for the day. I am more often than not the last to leave, and on occasion, I may have still been here when the early birds got in. Either way, no one expects me to be here and functioning before 9:30 a.m. without a coffee in my hand. Because, truly, mornings are just not my thing.

Nikki is at the workbench in my office, looking through my microscope.

“Do none of the other microscopes work today?” After hanging my purse on the back of my office door, I pull my lab coat off the hook.

Nikki snorts. “Well, first, I wanted you to look at this.”

With a roll of my eyes, I go back to the sink in the main lab to wash my hands.

Once I return, I walk over to the microscope and examine the slide. “Yikes.”

“Have you ever... ?”

I don’t answer her, trying to count the rupturing cells. I rotate the tray and adjust the magnification. They’re too far deteriorated to count accurately.

Shaking my head, I admit defeat. “I would take it to path. I can’t get a good count.”

“Yeah. I was afraid you’d say that.” Nikki sighs.

She stands there, lingering.

Putting on my lab coat, I watch her expectantly. Why is she still here?

It takes me a minute. “Oh, right, you said first. What’s second?”

“Did you see the new accounting partner?” Nikki’s eyes widen, her pupils enlarging at the thought of him.

Pulling my hair into a ponytail higher on the back of my head, I roll my eyes before expressing my displeasure. “Oh joy. Is it not bad enough that I’ve got to distract Brayden for the lab? Now we’ve got a new accounting partner.”

Nikki shrugs. “Doctor Thorpe is dead set on getting all the departments efficient. Not everyone is as anal in processing samples as you are. Do you ever make mistakes?”

“It’s not my fault I like to be right.” Attention to detail is a good thing, I remind myself.

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