"Thank you for saying so." She smiled shyly, charmed, Claire was guessing by the soft look she gave him. And Andreas was charming, particularly as he took the little boy into his big arms to let him closer explore the glyphs that so intrigued him. Claire saw a glimmer of the man she remembered from before--the carefree, charismatic man she'd fallen helplessly in love with all those years ago. Since he'd come storming back into her life two nights ago, Claire thought that man she'd known and adored was long gone. She thought that part of him had been consumed by the flames that had taken his kin and left him the sole survivor, hellbent on revenge. To think she had actually condemned him once for not being serious enough about life ... about her. She'd grown to fear his elusive, devil-may-care ways. She'd worried that he might never be content with just one woman, and maybe he hadn't been after all. She'd certainly heard of his numerous female companions over the years, mortal women, all of them. She knew he had never taken a Breedmate of his own and settled down to have his sons with her, and Claire had long nurtured a secret gladness that he had remained un-bonded all this time. As for her own ill-chosen mate, her loveless match with Wilhelm Roth had produced no offspring either--a blessing, now that she was coming to understand more about Wilhelm's treachery. Despite Andreas's outward recklessness and rakish leanings back when Claire had known him best, he would have made some woman a wonderful mate. She saw that now, in the way he spoke so kindly to Danika and how he took to her son with such ease. Claire looked at him now and wondered how they'd let so much time--so many mistakes and missteps--get in their way. She wondered how long it would take for her to forget this vibrant, magnetic side of him again, once the dust and ash settled on the perilous journey they found themselves on together. How could her life ever go on in light of all she was learning about Wilhelm and all she yearned to have once more with Andreas? "My goodness, I can't believe it's nearly dawn already,"
Danika said, her melodic voice breaking through the heavy weight of Claire's thoughts. "You must be exhausted. Would you like to see where you'll be sleeping?" Claire nodded, afraid her feelings had shown all over her face, for the way the other Breedmate was looking at her with such tenderness and sympathy. She schooled her features into a placid, unreadable mask--a skill she'd perfected during her years as Wilhelm Roth's mate. "What I could really use is a nice hot bath," she said, feeling Andreas's gaze fix on her, even though it had seemed a perfectly reasonable request. "Of course," Danika replied. She glanced to Andreas, who was still holding the delighted Connor. "Would you mind watching him while I show Claire upstairs?" "No problem," he said, his eyes pinning Claire with an intensity that made her blood sizzle in her veins. "Take whatever time you need. The little guy and I will be fine on our own." Claire felt his hot stare following her, as palpable as a lingering caress, as Danika led her out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the second floor of the house. "The bathroom is here," the tall blond female said, gesturing to the open door of a full bath at the top of the stairs. "No one uses this part of the house, so please consider it yours. Here is the bedroom at the end of the hallway." Claire could hardly contain her contented sigh as she walked into the inviting chamber with its golden hardwood floors, dark cherry furnishings, and king-size, quilt-covered bed. It had been a long time since she'd been in a room that exuded such homespun, simple warmth. "I set out a sleep shirt for you, and you'll find plenty of towels in the bathroom.
I don't know what you might be used to at home, but I hope you'll be comfortable enough here." "It's lovely," Claire replied. She drifted over to the massive bed and trailed her fingers across the careful needlework on the quilt's beautiful teal, gray, and cream Nordic design. "This room reminds me of my family's home in Rhode Island." Danika smiled. "Oh, then you're American?" She walked over to a tall, footed armoire and opened the cabinet's burnished- brass-handled doors. "I didn't think you sounded like a German native. No accent at all." "No. I came to Europe many years ago, to study music, actually." Claire walked over to help the other woman retrieve a couple of extra pillows and a folded wool blanket. "I suppose I was very idealistic then, like many young people. As for me, I was torn between my love of the piano and my personal need to do something important with my life, like saving the world." "I'm not sure the world can be saved," Danika said, turning a solemn blue gaze on her. "There's so much corruption and tragedy everywhere you look. Good people die all the time, even the ones whose only faults are striving to do good work and make things better for others." Claire nodded. "My parents were those kind of people.
My mother left a very comfortable life in New England to help bring clean water and medical supplies to a small country in Africa. She met my father, a young doctor from Zimbabwe, while she was working overseas. They fell in love almost instantly, but at that time, marriage wasn't an easy thing to obtain for a white American woman and a black man from Africa. When my mother became pregnant with me, she returned to the States until I was born. My father stayed behind to continue his work and wait for us to come back to be a family. A few months later, conflict broke out in the region. My mother couldn't bear to be away from him while the village they'd worked so hard to build up was being threatened by war. She went back to Africa, and within a month of her arrival they were both killed when rebel forces shot up their camp." "Oh, Claire." Danika pulled her into a caring embrace. "How awful for you and the rest of your family. I'm so sorry." It had been a long time since she'd thought about losing her parents--a couple known to her only by pictures and stories her grandmother in Rhode Island had shared with her as she was growing up, parentless and different, yet a child of privilege in Newport's high society. Now all her relatives in the States were gone.