Waiting up for him.
He turned that way, stopped in the door, and leaned against its frame.
“Everyone is safe?” she asked.
“So far,” he answered quietly.
She took a moment to let that sink in.
“There are others,” she said softly.
“Yeah,” he confirmed.
She drew in breath through her nose, took a sip of tea, then stated, “And they’re evil.”
He felt his jaw get hard, but he made no reply.
He didn’t need to. She knew what had happened to Delilah and she could guess where her sons were now.
“We knew this,” she continued.
“Guess my instincts were right. Just took two hundred years for that shit to come about.”
She nodded once and said, “Then it’s good we’re prepared.”
Abel said nothing. They’d be talking about this, just not now. He had a wolf to hunt and, if he found him, hopefully successfully interrogate.
“We’re prepared, Abel,” she said again.
“Yeah,” he replied but went no further with that. Instead, he told her, “Gave my phone to Delilah. Need to borrow yours.”
Her brows went up. “Her name is Delilah?”
He nodded.
“That’s lovely,” she said.
It was. It was also apropos. She was a temptress.
But he knew that. He’d been dreaming of her for over a hundred years.
The reality was better.
Even stuck in his thoughts, Abel still saw it shift over Jian-Li’s face and felt his stomach tighten when he did.
“You’re full?” she asked.
“I am, sweetheart,” he answered gently.
She took another sip of tea, but she did it knowing she couldn’t hide behind that cup.
She knew the hole he had inside, a hole that had never been filled. He’d shared it with her, his Jian-Li—his baby girl, his sister—the last in six women of her line that grew to be his confidant.
She knew he was searching for something, knowing for years it was not there to find.
Until thirty years ago, when the empty feeling became something else. A clawing in his gut that got stronger and stronger, year after year, until it got to a point it couldn’t be ignored. It took an extreme effort of will to live day to day without jumping on his bike and riding the roads until he found whatever it was that would make the pain stop.
That night, the pain had stopped.
And Abel knew that, forty-five years ago, Jian-Li would have given anything to be the one who filled that hole. From birth, she’d grown up with him in her life. She’d loved him since she knew what that feeling meant. He’d loved her since before she was born.
But she’d fallen in love with him when she was in her twenties.
She was not the one who would fill the hole, and he’d helped raise her and knew he’d watch her grow, turn beautiful, age, and die. He’d done that before, too often. So he couldn’t give her that, even in the lesser way he might have been able to give it to her.
“I’m happy for you, Abel,” she said.
He straightened from the jamb. “Jian-Li—”
She lifted a hand and waved it, interrupting him. “I had that.”
He felt the squeeze in his chest. “I know.”
“I wanted it from you, but that was long ago,” she continued. “But you know I found it elsewhere. It’s just that he wasn’t long for this world.” Her next words were said with her eyes still kind but sharp on him, communicating more than what she was saying. “It takes time, but you come to terms with the fact that you were blessed, having once had it at all.”
She’d found a good man, Ming. He’d made her happy. He’d given her three strong, smart, loyal sons. He’d accepted all that was Abel into their family as Jian-Li’s mother’s husband had done, and her mother’s husband before him, and the mother before that, all the way back to the first who had found him and raised him from a pup.
But Ming had died twenty years ago, leaving Jian-Li broken in a way no one could fix, the second time she’d had to experience that, the first being with Abel and living day to day knowing she’d never have him, until she met Ming.
It was the measure of the man, and of his wife, that their three sons stood by her side, strong and stalwart, living their lives but keeping the family together to make certain their mother never endured another painful break that wouldn’t heal.
“I’m glad you have that now,” she went on.
Abel captured her eyes and whispered, “You know I’ve always loved you. From the moment you were placed in my arms, tian xin, I’ve loved you. And you know, no matter how long I have on this earth, that will never die.”
Her smile was sad when she replied, “I know. As you loved and mourned my mother. And my grandmother. I know, Abel.”
It had to be said, sometimes immortality sucked. In fact, immortality pretty much always sucked. It was just that some times were worse than others.
This was one of those times.
“I need to go help the boys,” he told her in order to move them both out of the sadness.
She nodded again. “My phone is on the desk.”
He went that way, snagged it, and shoved it in his back pocket.
Then he walked to her, bent low, and slid his temple along hers. “Go to bed,” he said in her ear. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He pulled away but not far, just enough to catch her gaze as she said, “I will. Be safe. Take care of my sons.”
“Always.”
She gave him another soft smile.
He lifted a finger and touched it to her chin. Her eyes went tender but forlorn. They always did these days when he touched her that way. When she was younger, a toddler, a little girl, a teen, they lit with pleasure.