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But the stranger isn’t approaching—he’s stopped dead by his father’s side, his wide-eyed focus on Jacob rather than Adelaide. “You’re dead.”
“Apparently not,” General Smith says, offering Jacob a tight smile. “The lovely Adelaide managed to save his life. The only problem is that he suffers from complete amnesia. Luckily Secretary Thompson can guarantee his loyalty, seeing as he’s now mated to his daughter.”
The blond’s eyes flick to the woman by Jacob’s side, and the bond that ties him to her tightens so hard he grunts with the pain of it. “He matedher?”
Jacob takes a step forward on instinct alone, teeth bared at the insulting tone, but General—Secretary—Thompson places a calming hand on his shoulder.
“Now, now, we can’t begrudge Colonel Smith a bit of jealousy. They dated for a moment as kids,” The older alpha sounds amused. “But that’s all water under the bridge, isn’t it, Sam?”
“Of course,” the other man replies stiffly, his lips quirking into a forced smile. “I’m just pleased my old friend is back from the dead—if a bit surprised.”
“We all were,” the president says with a chuckle. “Thompson kept that little secret quiet for the past three years. Ah, but I’m afraid I will have to leave you all to celebrate without me for a while. I have my first address to the nation in fifteen minutes.”
“Of course, Mr. President.”
In the general disturbance of the president leaving, Adelaide’s father turns to her and hisses, “Get it together. You look like you’re about to break down and sob. Today’s the greatest day in our country’s history since 1776. Don’t embarrass me.”
Jacob expects her to snarl a defiant retort, but instead his mate ducks her head and whispers, “I’m sorry.”
It’s that moment—the cowed look on the woman who’s ruled his existence with an iron fist, who clawed her way through hell in a Siberian bunker that should have killed her—it’sthatthat makes Jacob say, “I need to take her home. Now.” Not a request—a demand.
Secretary Thompson recognizes the distinction too, and his eyes narrow. “She is needed here. And so are you. So you will stay. That’s an order.”
His chips sears the command into his brain, and it’s all he can do to stop from snarling at the older alpha who dares stop him from getting his mate out when she clearly needs it. But a man so used to giving orders won’t budge in a test of wills—not when he has the ultimate control.
So instead of giving in to his instincts to show this alpha exactly who is in control of his mate and any decision related to her well-being, he says, “You told me all I need to do is ask, and whatever I want, you will give it to me. What I want is to take my mate home.”
Thompson huffs out a breath, annoyance filtering over his expression, but also resignation. “Good God, I didn’t coddle Alina like that even when we were newly mated. I know my daughter, and I’m warning you—if you keep this up, she’s gonna keep her hand around your balls for the rest of your life. But fine, if it means that much to you—go.”
* * *
She’ssilent all the way to the car, and the second she’s strapped into the passenger seat, she huddles in on herself, gaze downcast and arms wrapped around her midriff.
Something is very wrong.
Jacob glances at her out of the corner of his eye, unsure what to do. This isn’t like the bunker. There is no obvious reason for whatever’s troubling her, nothing he can attack, nothing he canfix.His instincts are in overdrive, demanding that hedo something,but the only thing he can do is get her far away from whatever is causing this disturbing change.
Frustrated, he puts the SUV into gear and pulls out onto the nearly empty streets.
“Don’t go to my parents’ place.” Her voice is hoarse—filled with emotion. It’s unsettling.
“Then where?”
She hesitates for a moment, then says, “My place. Just… for today. We’ll work something else out tomorrow.”
Her father will undoubtedly have something to say about it once he realizes they haven’t gone back to his estate, but she’s right—he’ll be too busy to notice them missing for at least a day.
Her apartment isin a century-old building on a tree-lined street that has avoided much of the destruction from the coup.
Jacob parks the car on the curb and leads the way up the stairs to her floor, engaging his enhanced senses to ensure everything is safe. But all he hears are the small sounds of people moving around their own homes, entwined with scents of food cooking; people going about their lives in quiet while they wait for this new reality to settle in.
It’s dark in Adelaide’s apartment, the chill in the air and the musty smell speaking of the place being abandoned for a little while.
His mate wrinkles her nose when she steps in, and flicks on the lights before she marches through the hallway and deeper in. He hears the sound of wooden sash windows sliding open, and the twist of a button, followed by a slow elevation in temperature when the central heating kicks on, but most of his attention is on the visual impression.
The white backdrop of the walls in her hallway are covered in color. Bright, black-framed posters; small, dark oil paintings in antique frames; a pleated green lamp atop a mahogany sideboard, and behind it, a painted mirror.
When he walks into the living/dining room, the theme continues. Plush-looking furniture covered in soft blankets sit atop thick, Persian rugs, and the white walls host a multitude of mismatched artwork that somehow manages to look like it was made for the space. Jacob stares at it all, trying to reconcile the cold, white-clad doctor with her eternally scraped-back hair he’s known for three years with the woman who decorated this space. Wholiveshere, surrounded by warmth and softness and color.
