“That’s sort of a long story.” And it wasn’t one I really wanted to get into right then. Not when it was all still so raw.
He raised an eyebrow and gave me the sort of look that suggested he was prepared to wait a very long time indeed. “We have nothing to do for the next couple of hours.”
So much for him believing that I was okay. Thankfully, the doorbell chose that moment to ring. “Gotta answer that,” I said, rather unsuccessfully hiding the relief in my voice as I jumped up.
“We’ll just help ourselves to the contents of your fridge,” he said, voice dry. “And don’t think we’re going to be put off by whoever it is at the door.”
I flashed him a grin over my shoulder in acknowledgment and pressed the intercom button.
“Yes?”
“Mercy? It’s Damon.”
My body went hot, then cold, and my hands were suddenly shaking.
“Who?” My fingers reflexively touched the lotus pendant around my neck. I must have heard wrong. He couldn’t be here. Not after walking away. Not after all his fine speeches about being a muerte and wanting no one to care about.
“It’s me, Mercy.”
He sounded so heartbreakingly real, like he really was standing down there. But part of me didn’t want to believe it. He’d walked away. Surely he wouldn’t just walk back, like nothing had happened.
When I didn’t say anything, he added softly, “I need to talk to you.”
“Why?” I asked automatically. Then I remembered Trae and Destiny standing in my kitchen, undoubtedly listening to every word, and I added hastily, “I’m coming down.”
I grabbed my jacket from the coatrack, flung an “I’ll be back” over my shoulder, then dived out the door. I didn’t wait for the elevator but took the stairs two at a time, slowing only when I neared the ground floor.
It was him.
He was leaning a shoulder against the wall of the building, staring off down the street. His sharp features were drawn, as if he’d been getting as little sleep as I had, and there were shadows under his eyes.
I slowed as my foot hit the foyer floor, wanting to drink in the sight of him just a bit longer, enjoy the feeling of him flowing through my mind. But he sensed my presence and looked my way.
Those dark eyes caught mine so easily, and yet they were completely neutral—showing nothing, revealing nothing. I stopped, suddenly unsure whether I really should open that door.
What if he wasn’t here to tell me he missed me?
What if he was simply here to sort out something relating to Hannish and the Jamieson king?
My stomach suddenly twisted. God, what if he was here to drag me in front of the council?
I took a step back, then stopped.
This was stupid. I was braver than this. I’d proved that time and again.
“What do you want, Damon?”
“I didn’t come here to talk to you through a glass security door, Mercy. Either let me in, or come out.”
“Why should I come out? You left.” My voice broke a little, but I sucked it up and added, “What more is there to discuss?”
“Plenty.” He paused, and a sweet, almost tentative smile teased the corners of his mouth. “I’ve arranged for chocolate cake …”
Despite my fears, I couldn’t help feeling a glimmer of amusement. He’d remembered. That had to be good, right? “I don’t see any chocolate cake.”
“It’s waiting in the restaurant down the street.”
“And why would it be waiting there?”
“Because I thought you were more likely to talk to me on neutral ground.” He paused again, and I swear fear flashed through the dark depths of his eyes. It made that small sliver of hope that had been with me since he’d left burst into a bonfire. “Please, Mercy. Come out and talk to me.”
“You have precisely twenty minutes,” I said, knowing even as I said it that he could have the rest of my life if only he said the right words. “I have guests waiting upstairs.”
I opened the door then grabbed the loose edges of my jacket and wrapped them around me—more to keep from reaching for him than any real need to keep out the cold.
But I couldn’t help drawing in the scent of him, letting the richness of it flow through my lungs, filling and warming me.
“This way,” he said, raising his hand to guide me, then dropping it before he actually touched my back.
We walked down the street like two strangers, and yet every time he moved, every time he breathed, I was aware of it.
He opened the restaurant door and ushered me through, once again careful not to touch me, then guided me over to a table in the corner. The place was small, homey, and packed. Our table was the only empty one.
A waiter came up immediately, depositing two coffees and a large serving of chocolate cake before removing the “reserved” sign and walking away.
I wrapped my fingers around the cup and drew it close, but I didn’t dare pick it up. My hands were still shaking too much.
“So,” I said finally, meeting his dark gaze. “What do you want to talk about?”
“How about my stupidity?”
“A good place to start,” I acknowledged, desperately battling the urge to smile. He didn’t deserve that yet. After a month of heartache, he owed me the full explanation. And perhaps a bit of groveling. “What particular area of your stupidity do you wish to discuss?”
“The part where I said muertes can’t get involved.”
I picked up the fork and cut into the cake. I had to do something, anything, to stop myself from giving in to the growing desire to reach across the table and silence him with a kiss. The part of me that had hoped for so long suddenly didn’t care about explanations; it just wanted him. But the stubborn part still wanted to hear the words; still wanted to hear him say them before I truly believed. “And why would you want to discuss that? You were very emphatic about it.”
“It was a lie when I said it, and it’s a lie now.”
He caught my hand, gently pulling the fork from it and enclosing it in his warm, firm grip. My breath caught and my heart began pounding so hard I swear it was trying to jump out of my chest. I was suddenly glad he didn’t seem to expect me to say anything, because right then I was totally incapable of speech.
“I tried to forget you,” he continued softly. “I tried to get on with my life and my job, but you’ve invaded every part of me—even my dreams—and there is no me without you. I love you, Mercy.”
I closed my eyes for a moment and savored the words, letting them wash away the loneliness and the fear of the past month. Letting them warm my soul and heal my heart.
Even so, it couldn’t end there. There was one more question I needed to ask.
“What about that whole speech you gave about the power of the muerte being the fact that he has no family—and no loved ones—to fear for? Are you saying that was a lie, too?”
“No. It’s as true then as it is now. But this last month has given me a taste of what it would be like to live the rest of my life without you. And I’d rather live with the fear of losing you than live without you entirely.”
“Are you sure, Damon? Because I’d rather live alone than live the rest of my life with the fear that you’ll walk away again.”
“I’m more sure of that than anything else in my life. Please, say you’ll forgive me. Say you’ll take the risk and become a part of my life.”
I studied him for a moment, aching to say yes but all too aware of the shadow that still stood between us—a shadow he hadn’t yet mentioned.
“You say you love me, that you can’t live without me,” I said slowly, “but I’m draman and that will never change. Where will your allegiance lie if the council issues an order that all draman are to have their powers ripped from them?”
“I doubt the council will order something like that.”
“But if it did?” I persisted.
“I would not let that happen to you,” he said softly, but with such determination it warmed the chill of uncertainty from my bones.