“Thankyou,” she said, her cheeks blushing faintly.
AfterItold her which books to move and in which order,Isaid, “Butnot today,LittleSparrow.Youhave the day off.Ican see the toll the stress has taken on you.Youshould rest.You’resafe here.”
Althoughshe squirmed at first, as if eager to delve into her research, she agreed. “You’reright.Ifeel likeIcould sleep for a week,” she said with a wry smile, in a way that made her adorable dimple appear.
Igave her space that afternoon.Thenwe met up for dinner again in my apartment.Sinceshe noted she was still sore from last night,Iforced myself not to act on the yearning to touch her intimately.Butthat night,Iheld her in my arms as we slept in my bed, andIreveled in the scent and feel of my mate with me.
Thenext morning, we ate croissants and drank coffee on the roof, seated at a small table.
Theflap of wings in the distance coming closer drew our attention, and she gasped.
“It’sokay,”Iassured her. “It’sDumont.”
Oncehe landed on the rooftop,Igreeted him. “You’rewelcome to stay here as long as you like,Anya,” he said.
“Thankyou.”
“Iseverything okay?”Iasked him.
Henodded with a grim expression. “Aswell as we could expect.Iwas back inVieux-Montréal.Itwas arson.”
Anyaflinched beside me. “Iheard about that fire.Iseveryone okay?”
“Yes,”Dumontsaid. “Wegot them all to safety.”Thenhis jaw tightened. “Wesuspect the demons might have been involved.”
“Ah, figures,”Imuttered.
“Beforewe could question the intruder from the library further, he attempted to escape.Afight escalated with the guards, and he was eliminated.”
Anyasucked in a breath. “Sohe’s dead?”
“Yes.”Dumontnodded.
Whilewe finished our conversation,IsensedAnya’sbody language tense.AfterDumontwalked away,Isaid, “Youseem troubled.”
Sherolled her shoulders back. “Demons.Andarson.”
Withthe way her expression appeared more distressed, there had to be more to that. “Didsomething happen?”Iinquired gently.
Shestared out across the sky. “Myparents were killed in a fire whenIwas a baby.”
Apang of empathy struck me. “I’mso sorry.”
“It’sokay.”Shelifted her shoulders and turned her hands palms up. “Wedon’t know who set the fire or why.Ididn’t even know thatIwas in the house untilIwas older and accessed my files.Someonemust have found me and taken me to a fire station.”
Ohfuck.Herwords struck me as ifI’dbeen hit by granite.Thatlong-buried memory.Itcouldn’t be?—
Sheslanted her gaze. “Hugo?”
Irubbed the back of my neck. “I’mfine.”
“No.”Sheeyed me with wariness. “Something’swrong.”
Hell, it couldn’t be the same house, could it? “Wheredid this happen?”Myvoice sounded strangely detached asItried to keep my emotions in check.
“NearOlympicPark.”
Blooddrained to my toes.Ifshe was a baby, it happened about twenty-five years ago, which matched up.Myheart pounded a staccato beat in my chest.
