Jarimis stooped to drop a kiss to the top of Victory’s head, and she screamed at her past self. Not to let him leave. Not to let him go alone. Not to let him leave without telling him how much she loved him.
Instead, past Victory twitched her fingers in farewell and settled into the armchair, content with Mikelos’ music.
Jarimis tossed a wave to Mikelos when he passed the daywalker’s studio. The other man didn’t even acknowledge the gesture, intent on his practice. Victory had no recollection of what he might have been working on, whether rehearsing a piece or working on an original composition. She’d lost such minute details in the blur of grief infusing the memories of that time period.
Victory retreated to a far corner of her mental entrapment in Jarimis’ mind. She wanted no part of
