Page 28 of Omega's Fire

I’ve argued my position so many times before: on Point of Contention, on radio shows, in lectures to packed auditoriums, on panels at conferences where people hung on every word. My words flow out easily: statistics and studies and success stories tumbling over each other. Leo continues to ignore me, completely indifferent.

His indifference doesn’t matter. He is here, trapped in this space with me. He has to listen. I talk until my mouth runsdry, until my throat aches with the effort. I get a glass of water and keep talking, the words becoming more desperate with each passing minute.

He keeps ignoring me.

The telephone rings around noon, startling in its abruptness. I haven’t used an old rotary phone in years. I lift the receiver.

“Dr. Thorndike,” I answer automatically.

A female voice responds, authoritative and crisp. “This is Meg Deveraux. I need to speak with Leo Torres.”

I frown, my grip tightening on the receiver. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Torres isn’t permitted outside communication during the mandatory cohabitation period.”

“I have a court order signed by Judge Harlowe permitting this call,” she says, voice sharp. “How do you think I got this number?”

I blink, caught off guard. “A court order?”

“Yes. And if you don’t put Leo on the phone immediately, you’ll be in contempt. I have the judge on standby.”

“One moment.” I cover the mouthpiece with my palm. “Leo? It’s for you.”

Leo looks up, surprise flickering across his features before his expression settles back into neutrality. He crosses the room and takes the phone, his fingers carefully avoiding contact with mine.

“Hello?” A pause. “Meg. Hi.” His voice softens minutely, carrying the first genuine emotion I’ve heard from him in hours.

I move away supposedly to give him privacy, but not far enough that I can’t hear. I pretend to examine the bookshelf, hyper-aware of every word exchanged.

“I’m fine,” Leo is saying. “Just looking forward to being able to leave.”

Something in my chest tightens, a pain so sharp it’s almost physical.

“You did? That’s—” Leo’s voice catches. “That’s incredible.”

I turn slightly, watching his profile as he grips the phone tightly, his knuckles white with the force of it.

“It’s definitely invalid? I can leave?”

I go very still, ice flooding my veins.

“Good, because it’s not working,” Leo continues, glancing briefly in my direction before looking away.

His words punch into me. My distress must affect my scent because Leo’s nostrils flare slightly, his eyes darting to me again before he deliberately turns his back.

“Really?” Leo’s voice rises with barely contained excitement. “Yeah, I’ll be ready. There’s nothing to pack. Thanks, Meg. I owe you.” Leo’s voice grows quieter. “I’ll see you soon.”

When he hangs up, the silence in the cottage is deafening.

“You’re leaving,” I say, the words feeling foreign in my mouth.

Leo doesn’t deny it. “Yes.”

“On what grounds?” I demand.

“The judge ruled that my registration was invalid,” Leo says, his expression carefully impassive. “The blood drive consent form wasn’t valid. The cohabitation order has been overruled. I’m legally free to go.”

“Free to go,” I repeat. The words taste bitter. “Just like that? After everything that happened between us?”

“Nothing happened between us except a shared heat,” Leo says flatly.

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