The photo album on the desk caught her eye. He’d been right about her seeing angles nobody else saw, and she used the camera as a way to explore that gift. Did she even need the camera? It was time she buckled down and figured out who she was and who she’d been. If she was going to die the following week by taking the virus—and there didn’t seem to be any alternative—at the very least she needed to try to figure out what had happened to her.

She couldn’t go on without knowing, and she didn’t want to end this life with unanswered questions if she could help it. Of course, she hoped the virus wouldn’t kill her and she’d survive. There was a chance, and she’d hope for it. Why not? So she made herself get out of the comfortable bed and take a shower, dressing in her now dry jeans and sweater, although the coat was destroyed. Her limbs were heavy and exhausted, and that constant nausea was back. The deterioration of her health was speeding up. Darn it.

She had just finished finger combing her hair into submission when a knock came at the door. “Come in.”

Adare entered the room, shirtless but with dry jeans and socks on. “We have to get going.”

So much for flowers and love poems. She smoothed her sweater down. “Where are we going?”

He shut the door and tucked a thumb into his front pocket, looking so masculine and dangerous that her mouth started to water. “I have a car coming to take you to the airport, where a Realm plane will be waiting to fly you to headquarters. The pilot has already picked up a couple of shifter dignitaries who are heading over to meet with strategic leaders.” No expression showed on his hard face.

She swallowed. This was so awkward. Should she tell him her plan and try to get him to understand? Something told her he wouldn’t agree, and he’d have no problem ordering the Realm soldiers to take her to safety. She was tired of being safe and in the dark. The time for healing was done; it was time for answers. Whether she liked them or not. She should nicely say goodbye and thank him for the awesome orgasm. “Why do you have my photographs all over your house?” The question popped out before she could stop it.

He studied her, and for the briefest of seconds, his gaze softened. “They show who you are.”

She sat straighter. What did that mean? The enlarged photographs adorning the walls were all of nature or scenes that didn’t involve people, unlike the photo album Faith had sent to him. Those revealed something about the subject. Did the other ones truly show something about her? How was she supposed to respond to him?