Chapter 11

R oman sipped on his beer and wondered how he'd managed to fit so many people into his condo.

"Your place turned out great," Arvandus said from his spot next to Roman.

"Thanks," Roman replied.

It'd taken months to get his new home decorated to his satisfaction, but he was pleased with the results. The furniture was a silvery gray velvet that matched the wide stripes of the wallpaper he'd painstakingly put up. A large built-in dominated one wall and housed his many books, photos, and even a large television. Like the dining room table, it was painted a distressed black.

Although Roman had originally intended to keep much of the design in grays, blues, and greens, a lot of black had snuck its way in. Since he was a fallen knight who'd worn a dark uniform since 1369, he supposed it was inevitable. Roman had no regrets, and a sense of peace hit him whenever he walked in his front door.

It was a serenity he'd come to rely upon as the months had dragged on and he'd heard nothing from his mate. Roman had plenty of patience and understood that Grant's life needed untangling, but would it hurt the man to send a text or leave a voicemail telling him that he was fine? Humans were fragile, and Roman couldn't shake a feeling in his gut that Grant had run into trouble.

Roman knew little about the people Grant had surrounded himself with or where he'd planned to move, but he was used to trusting his instincts. And they were screaming at Roman that Grant was in danger somehow. Or maybe that was Roman's defense mechanism, because it was far easier to believe Grant had encountered mayhem than to grasp that the former cop wanted nothing to do with him.

Perhaps his tale of changing his life was an excuse to put distance between himself and Roman. Frowning into his beer, Roman wished he could stop thinking about it. Fate had put them together. There had to be a reason for her choice. When Grant was ready, he had Roman's contact information.

"I know what's on your mind," Arvandus remarked, concern dominating his azure gaze. "Give yourself a day to enjoy what you've put together here."

"Easier said than done," Roman grumbled.

"I agree," Albrecht stated. "If my mate had not contacted me, I would be concerned. Roman does not know if Grant has rejected him or if something sad or sinister has happened in his life preventing him from calling."

"Thank you," Roman replied. "Albie, you get it. If I had a better idea why he hasn't contacted me, I could stop my brain from traveling down a million different paths and driving me nuts."

"Think about it, Arvandus," Albrecht encouraged his other half as he rubbed Arvandus's back. "If you did not hear from me, would you easily accept that I needed space and live every day with no concern for me?"

"Please, I can answer that. You guys had…what? Like, a week where you weren't contacting him as often, Albie, and he immediately confronted you. The last thing he wanted was a hint of distance between you," Roman pointed out.

Arvandus grimaced. "Okay, you're both right. I'm not trying to minimize your feelings. Not at all. What I want is for you to enjoy how hard you've worked to save up money for this condo and put it together like this. All I'm asking is that you try to take a day—or hell, even a few hours—to appreciate this incredible milestone in your life."

"That's because you're an amazing friend, and I appreciate you, but I don't have a switch in my brain I can flip to get it to take the track I want," Roman replied. He took a deep, steadying breath as the ever-present knot of worry sat stubbornly in the pit of his belly. "I wish I could, Arvandus. I'd give myself a break. But my emotions are everywhere. I waited so damn long to find my mate. And let's be honest; it's been a tangled mess since the day we met."

"You damn well have waited too fucking long," Arvandus said emphatically. "I wanted you to have that instant connection like Apple and I did. Both times I met him, I yearned to be at his side."

"I was cautious," Albrecht reminded his other half from beneath the voluminous cloak he was rarely without. "Although I liked you and wished to be your mate, I was worried. More so the second time around. I still hate that you had to relive your death. I have talked to Fate much in recent years and begged her to pair our loved ones…without the obstacles we faced. Fate has angered me so often I wonder if I should stop bothering her."

Roman chuckled. "No, we have too many single friends. Keep pestering her. We don't want her to forget about anybody in this remarkable extended D'Vaire family wandering through my condo right now and eating all the cupcakes Brynn made."

"Don't worry, Samson smuggled in a separate container for you full of cupcakes, cookies, and blondies, and hid it in your fridge," Arvandus commented.

"This is why Venerable Knights are the best," Roman mused.

"Of course we are," Arvandus said. "We should be begging Fate to bring us another one next week when Chand resurrects our new recruits."

"Wouldn't that be nice," Roman replied. Since 1369, only Samson had earned the title, so Roman didn't have high hopes that any of their new fallen knights would be added to his office, but he'd learned in recent months how surprising Fate could be. "I'm glad we'll be busy at the Ascension Center. With so much extra work on my plate, it'll help me escape from my thoughts."

"Yeah, but don't ignore your feelings either," Arvandus warned. "It's not good for you."

"Thankfully, I have you to keep me from doing that," Roman said with a grin.

"Anything for you," Arvandus assured him with a friendly clap on his shoulder. "I love you. We all do. And don't forget, I'm always here for you. Day or night."

"I'm not calling you at night. Albie will never forgive me," Roman replied.

"If it is an emergency, I will understand," Albrecht stated. "But if it is not, it can wait until morning. I prefer some hours of Arvandus's night to belong to me, and I already must deal with his on-call evenings."

Roman chuckled and wondered if he'd ever have someone sharing his bed. Would Grant ever call him again? Or was Roman doomed to wait decades for his human mate's life to end and for him to be rebirthed so they could be together?

Roman hated thinking that way—especially after only a few short months of no contact—but he couldn't help it. All he wanted was the other half of his soul. But being a fallen knight had taught him early that few people got exactly what they wanted.

∞∞∞

With a large cup of coffee in his hand, Roman walked down the hall of the Ascension Center. That morning, he'd awoken with a burst of energy. From the beginning, Roman had enjoyed aiding new recruits as they adjusted to their future as fallen knights. In recent years, they'd added sentinels to the mix, and it had only increased Roman's love for teaching.

The next eight weeks would add tremendously to his daily duties as a Venerable Knight, but Roman didn't mind. In fact, with so much personal turmoil plaguing him, the extra work was welcome—which was why he'd awoken earlier than usual to get to the training facility. He couldn't wait to be swamped so he could fall into bed at night too tired to allow his brain to travel along murky paths of all the potential danger Grant might be facing.

A single room was the domain of the Arch Lich, and that was where he resurrected the men and women who'd spend their immortal lives keeping the Council safe. Roman arrived at the door and noticed the light haze of dark smoke floating under it. Highly experienced with how much of Chander's magic was left in the air after a resurrection, Roman knew a new fallen knight was alive but probably had yet to open his or her eyes.

Eager to meet them and walk them to their dorm, Roman swung the door open and sucked in a deep breath. The fruity smell of limes was intense, and Roman swore the room spun. The mug in his hand slipped from his grasp and shattered as it hit the tiles. An erection tented his uniform pants, but Roman ignored it.

His gaze swung to the bed where a man lay. The sight of him was like a physical blow to Roman's chest. He staggered back a step. His knees buckled. Roman's spine hit the wall. With trembling limbs, he splayed his fingers against the smooth drywall to keep his balance.

"Roman, what's wrong?" Chander barked, his voice sharp with concern.

Roman's mind reeled. Gone were the pretty blond highlights, but he would recognize his mate anywhere. There, lying on the bed as a new fallen knight, was Grant. Roman bit his lip. Tears wet his cheeks. Danger had found Grant. While Roman had worried and decorated his damn house, Grant had died.

"Answer me, dammit," Chander demanded, stepping around the ceramic shards to take a firm grip on Roman's arm.

"Talk to us," Baxter pleaded.

Benton followed Chander and held out a hand to aid Roman.

"It's him," Roman whispered. "It's him."

"Who?" Chander asked.

" Him ," Roman repeated as he slid to the floor.

Refusing to release him, Chander sank to his knees and used his free hand to turn Roman's face toward him. Chander's pewter gaze was both resolute and empathetic.

"Who is he?" Chander asked. "Tell me who I just resurrected and why you're so freaked out."

"Grant," Roman managed. His erection was long gone, but the scent of limes still filled his nose as his brain and heart tried to catch up with the present.

" Fuck ," Chander muttered beneath his breath. "I'm sorry."

"He died, Chand," Roman said. "How? How is this possible?"

"I don't know whether to apologize to you for resurrecting your mate or be grateful Fate gave me this ability to return him to you," Chander said. "I'm so fucking sorry."

Roman's teeth chattered, and he dragged his fingers through his hair. "He died. But…but now he's here. He's here ."

"And immortal," Benton said. "He can't die again, Roman. Fate and Chand have given you a second chance. He has no memory. He won't know you. Except you've been in the room together, so he can only respond to you. He's yours now. Forever. It sucks that he died, but focus on the good. You have a clean slate. Nothing will bring his human life back to him. You didn't bind your souls."

"Get Drystan and Conley in here," Chander ordered Baxter. "Roman, what do you need? How can we help you? He's going to wake up soon. Do you want to be here when he opens his eyes?"

Roman shook his head, sick to his stomach for what Grant had suffered. "No. No, the next eight weeks are going to be tough. Hell, the next three days, as he deals with his resurrection, will suck. The last thing he needs is me here. I don't know how to feel. I don't know what to think."

Benton rushed forward to cup Roman's elbow. "Let me help you up. Don't worry, we'll take care of him. Make sure he gets his bearings."

The door swung open, and Conley swooped in. Benton helped Roman up, and Conley took him into his arms.

"Grant died," Roman whispered brokenly as he clung to Conley. Drystan's palm landed on Roman's shoulder, and he appreciated the comfort of the Reverent Knights.

"I take it he's our first recruit?" Drystan asked, his voice tight.

"What's his last name?" Chander asked. "No reason we need to give him a new identity."

"I don't know," Roman replied. "He never told me."

"That's okay, we'll find him a great one," Chander said. "Don't worry about a damn thing. I can't tell you everything is going to be fine because no one knows that. But we're going to take care of your mate. No one can hurt him again. That I can fucking promise you."

"I don't know what to do," Roman whispered.

"Come with us," Conley encouraged, putting a little space between them.

Roman focused on Conley's gold gaze and nodded. His legs were wobbly, but he took a step toward the door. He turned his head and took one last look at the beautiful brunet lying supine on the bed. Grant was dressed in all black, and Roman's senses shouted that he was an immortal fallen knight, but his heart and mind remained confused. Roman had worried for him, but it was futile. Grant had already suffered the end of his life.

Now, what the fuck should Roman do? Pretend they'd never met? Bewildered, Roman allowed himself to be led out of the room. He'd allow Grant to have his training without the heavy weight of a new matebond. It was space Roman imagined he'd need as well. As much as he'd feared something happening to Grant, not in his wildest dreams had he imagined the next time they met, his mate would be a fallen knight.