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  “Okay.” She was aware that New Species never left Homeland so he couldn’t take her anywhere far.

  “Don’t be startled.”

  The warning did nothing to prepare her for when he bent and scooped her into his arms. He straightened, spun and strode to the wall. She wrapped her arms around his neck, expecting it when he jumped over the three-foot divider since he’d done it before.

  “Why are you carrying me?”

  “You have short legs and I want to move fast.” He kept looking in all directions as he quickened the pace. He wasn’t exactly running but it was close.

  “What’s going on?” Dana knew something was wrong.

  “Darkness keeps patrolling the area. He’s watching for me.”

  “The guy you fought with? The one who put you in the clinic?”

  “Yes.”

  She felt a little fearful as she glanced around as well. It was too dark to see much, and Mourn moved fast. “Are you going to get into another fight?” she asked, worried.

  “Possibly.”

  “Put me down. I can run.”

  He ignored her request and began to jog. It was a little jarring, but his arms cushioned her for the most part. She clung tighter until they came to a small building. He paused, turned and studied the area.

  “Do you see him?” she whispered.

  “No. It’s windy again, and it will be difficult for him to pick up my scent. That’s another reason I carried you. I rubbed my shoes in the grass to make tracking me more difficult. You would have left a trail for him to follow.”

  “Wow. New Species can do that?” She filed that information away. New Species had to have a highly advanced sense of smell.

  “He’s feline like me and we’re not as good at tracking as the canines, but he could call one here to assist him.” He shifted her weight, opened the door to the shed-sized building, carried her inside and placed her on her feet. He closed them in.

  It was pitch dark. Dana held very still, afraid she might run in to something or trip if items were on the floor. “Where are we?” She kept her voice low.

  “It’s a storage building for our sporting equipment. I’ll turn on the light. Close your eyes so it doesn’t cause you difficulty. It can take a second to adjust.”

  She lowered her head and did as he asked. She heard the soft click of a light switch and peeked, blinking a few times. It wasn’t a bright overhead light, but it was enough to see by. Shelves had been built along one wall and a long bench ran opposite it. Under the wood seat were boxes filled with various balls.

  “It’s private, and warmer than outside. You may sit if you wish.”

  The wood slats weren’t the most comfortable seat but she sat. Mourn hesitated and then joined her, a few feet away. He didn’t look at her, but instead stared forward at the cupboards. The silence grew a little awkward until Dana spoke.

  “How was your day?”

  “Fine. How was yours?”

  “I got a tour of the offices, the Security building, and we had dinner at the bar.”

  He looked at her, and his mouth curved downward in obvious distaste. “You danced with Species?” His nose flared as he sniffed. “I don’t smell any of them on you.”

  “No. I watched a lot of them dance though. A few men asked me, but I’m not at ease with that.”

  “You don’t dance, or you don’t like males touching you?”

  “I’m not social, and I didn’t want to draw that much attention to myself. I know how to dance, but I don’t like to do it with strangers. Paul and Becky went out on the dance floor a few times. I just stayed at the table.”

  He relaxed, the straight line of his back easing somewhat. “I don’t dance. I would be afraid others would laugh at me. We didn’t have access to music before freedom. It’s new.”

  “What about your wife? Did she dance?”

  “My mate was ill when we were freed. She spent all her time in our home, hooked to machines. She didn’t want to stay in Medical so they set her up inside a home to accommodate her needs.”

  Dana nodded. “I understand. We did that with Tommy too, near the end, but he wanted to try one more treatment that had a very slim chance of success. He was admitted to the hospital ten days before his death. We thought he’d last longer, or I would have insisted that he be taken home.” Sadness rose but she tried to push it back. “I think he planned it that way so I wouldn’t have the memory of his passing in our bedroom.”

  “I moved into the men’s dorm after I lost my mate. I couldn’t stand the constant reminders at the home we shared.”

  “It is tough,” she admitted. “I probably should take that step too, but I love our house. There are so many good memories there that they outweigh the bad. We were fortunate enough to buy our dream home the first time.”

  Mourn’s brow furled.

  “Most people buy what they call a starter home, and later upgrade to a house they wished they could have afforded the first time. Tommy inherited money from his family and he owned his own business. He sold it after he realized his health issues were serious, but we were always financially blessed. It wasn’t a problem.”

  “I understand.”

  The silence stretched and Dana realized Mourn wasn’t much of a talker. She’d have to gently prod him. “Do you want to talk about her?”

  He looked away. “No.”

  That’s going to make conversation tough, she decided. “What do you want to discuss? Do you want to ask me questions? You can.”

  “What is the one thing you miss most about your mate?”

  It was a complicated question. She pondered it. “I can’t really say it’s just one thing, but if I were to list a few, first I’d have to say the laughter.” She smiled at the memories that filtered through her thoughts. “Tommy was very funny. He could make me laugh no matter what.” She sobered. “I miss him when I climb into bed too. I felt safe and right snuggled up to him before I fell asleep.”

  Mourn turned to face her directly. She looked up into his eyes, awestruck by the tears she saw in them. The blue and autumn hues seemed to brighten, and it took her breath away.

  “My mate gave me purpose, and now I have none.”

  Dana could understand that. “What was her name?”

  A muscle along his jaw jumped and the tears cleared from his eyes. “I can’t say her number. It hurts.”

  “Number?”

  “She never chose a name. Mercile assigned us numbers. I refused to take a name until after she died since she wouldn’t.”

  It was horrific to Dana and heartbreaking. The woman Mourn had loved had been ill when she’d finally gained her freedom and had probably never enjoyed any of it. A mental image formed in her head of a gravestone with just a number engraved on the face of it. It was beyond tragic. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. Not all humans are alike. I know this. You had no part in her death.”

  “I’m still sorry for what both of you endured. Call it a general apology for all the assholes in the world. Life isn’t fair.”

  “It isn’t.” He reached toward her, but didn’t make contact.

  Dana clasped his hand and held on. “Things are going to get better. I thought about Tommy nonstop when he died. It was constant agony. Time passed and it eased. Some days can go by when I don’t think of him at all.” She allowed her thumb to caress the side of Mourn’s fingers, hoping it would comfort him. It did her. “Then I feel guilty.” She smiled. “You wish for those days, but when they come, go figure, you feel crappy about it. I’ve been assured that it’s part of the healing process.”

  “I try not to think of her.”

  “That’s normal too.”

  “I have guilt.”

  She nodded. “Survivor’s guilt. That’s the term they call it.”

  “I hate being alone.”

  “You aren’t. I’m here, and you’re surrounded by other New Species.”

  “You know what I mean. Sleeping alone. Eating alon