It was a miracle that Lucian was even still living. The silver nitrate that had been shot into him should have been the end of him, but Corvin’s blood had worked in ways no one could have imagined. He was still here, living and breathing despite the injuries that one all accounts should have ended in his death. Of course, there was little Lucian really felt he had to live for. He had no pack. His most trusted friend was dead, killed by the very men who had started the conflict.
Nor did he have his love, turned to ashes over six hundred years prior.
Then why did Lucian, on that very night, look over and swear he saw the familiar raven locks that his mate had. Why did he catch wind of her scent as he walked the near empty streets. His head turned to the direction the smell came from. Every fiber of his told him to follow it. So follow he did. He needed to know if somehow Sonja had survived her death sentence, or perhaps the years were finally getting to him and this was all just a hallucination.
He turned a corner, and his eyes searched before he saw an open door into an abandoned safe house. He walked up to the door, deciding whether or not he wanted to go in there. For all he knew, it wasn’t abandoned and vampires were there, waiting for him to come so they could kill him.
It was a chance he willingly took to see if it really was Sonja.
He walked into the room and although her back was turned, he knew. He recognized her form anywhere. One that had been imprinted on his memory for over six hundred years, that he knew inside and out. He moved a little closer, barely able to speak at first, but finally he said her name.
