They took half a life with her from me.If I think on it too long, rage will cloud my mind, and I won’t be able to soak in this moment.
Every muscle in my body tenses, quivering, demanding I stride across the room and gather the harpy into my arms. To hold her close and breathe her in and promise never to let anyone or anything take me from her again.
But I wait. Esme hasn’t glanced up again from her drawing. Hasn’t reacted to my presence on an instinctual level, like I have with her. As much as I long to, there’s no way we can simply start where we left off. Too much time has passed.
“I’m calling in my favor,” Xavier announces.
That gets her attention. Esme straightens with a snap, her amber eyes wide and focused on the man.
“Of course. Anything. Tell me what you need,” she says.
At that word—anything—my hackles rise. I don’t like the idea of her leaving herself so open to someone else’s whim.
Protect yourself, I want to warn her.You are too precious for this world and the cruel beings living in it.
But I keep quiet.
“Favor is for my friend actually.” The big man turns and looks ready to drop his hand on my shoulder but thinks better of it. He tilts his chin my way. “A new dragon in town. He needs a place to stay. I figured he could crash in your upstairs apartment since those witches left.”
Her eyes flick to me, running over my face and my body in a quick sweep.
There’s no flash of recognition. No gasp or shout or angry glare.
Esme’s expression only holds mild curiosity.
“Really?” The corner of her mouth ticks up. “I thought you were gonna ask for something hard.” Esme sets down her pencil before strolling around the counter, coming closer.
A pulse of needy energy picks up in my body, the thrumming increasing as she approaches. Starved for any detail of her I can claim, my eyes eat up this mature version of the harpy.
The softness of her youth is also gone from her body, replaced by toned muscle. She looks strong. Like she could take down someone twice her size. Like she could wrestle me to the ground.
I would give anything for her to do exactly that.
“Hi.” She smiles wide, staring up into my face, so open and sweet and welcoming and …
Fuck. I want todevourher. And then I want to worship her.
“Hi,” I mutter.
“Nice to meet you, newbie. I’m Esme.” The woman I’ve loved since I was seventeen years old holds out her hand to shake.
Because I’m a stranger.
With both eagerness and reluctance, I slide my palm into hers, noting the new calluses that rub against mine. When she curls her fingers around my hand, gripping tight, I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from blurting out the truth. To hold back the confession of who I am and what she is to me.
Because I couldn’t stand it if the lack of recognition in her golden eyes remained. If, armed with my name, Esme still struggled to recall who I was.
Her hand releases mine, and I want to snarl at the loss. But she doesn’t back away, continuing to gaze into my face.
When I realize she’s waiting on a response, I force one out.
“Lee,” I grunt.
Her grin, already enchanting enough to stop my heart, manages to stretch wider.
“Man of few words?”
My fingers twitch with the urge to rub the scar on my neck. Nasty thing, but my beard and buttoned-up shirt cover it.
