“Last night I thought it was a coincidence. I thought the book had made its way to you. It couldn’t have been you, after all. That was twenty years ago, and you looked different.”
“I change my appearance from time to time. The younger I make a new identity, the longer I can use it.”
Nick nodded nervously. “When you told me tonight that you’re immortal, the reaction you saw in me was my realizing itwasyou. You saved me that day, Rowan. You changed the direction of my life forever.”
She shook her head and scoffed. “I didn’t save you. I just gave you a second chance. It was only a car. I could tell you were desperate.”
“I applied to college that day to major in criminal justice. That was meant to be my way out. If I could become a cop, I could keep people like Trojan from ever controlling me again. All that time hiding from Stan at school paid off. My grades were good. They let me in. And I worked hard.”
“Are you saying you went to college because I didn’t have you arrested? I can’t take credit for that.” Something more was bothering her. “How did you deal with Trojan? I’m sure he didn’t give up just because you were admitted to college.”
“Trojan came after me, as I expected he would. I kept thinking about what you said to me, that if I was strong and smart enough to steal, I was strong and smart enough to figure out how to get myself out of the situation I was in. I returned to that hole-in-the-wall where Stan and I had lived. It was the same as when I left. Roaches almost as big as the rats. Cigarette butts everywhere. The smell—oh God, the smell. I was hoping to find the money or some clue to where Stan might be. What I found was Trojan waiting for me.”
“What did you do?”
“I ran. I was a fast son of a bitch, and I knew all the hiding places around our building, places where I’d hidden from Stan when I was younger. I didn’t use the stairwell but instead went out the window at the end of the hall and down the fire escape. Then I jumped the railing into the neighboring parking garage and hid between the cars. Trojan came for me. He caught up faster than I ever expected, almost like he knew where I was going.” He shook his head. “I remember crouching between two cars, the concrete stained with oil and grime under my feet. I could hear Trojan’s footsteps approaching. He was moving slowly, calling my name, taunting me as if he knew where I was and was just toying with me.”
“You must have been terrified.”
“I was, and I think that’s what he was going for. He flushed me out. I ran to the stairwell and then up to the top of the garage. My thighs were burning and my heart beat so hard in my chest that it hurt. Trojan kept coming. He knew there was nowhere for me to go. I made it to the far side of the garage on the top level, twelfth floor, and I stopped running. Unless I was willing to jump, I had no choice but to stand my ground, and I wasn’t suicidal. Despite everything, I wanted to live. I turned and faced him.”
The image of the boy he once was cowering in fear from that brute called Trojan turned Rowan’s stomach. Her jaw clenched. Had she known, she would have followed Nick and torn Trojan apart.
“How did you get away?”
“My foster dad taught jujitsu. That was his job; he was a martial arts instructor. There was this thing he taught me, that when you face an opponent who is larger and stronger than you, use what he isn’t against him. I was tall, skinny, and fast, nowhere near the size I am now. This was before the academy, when I was still catching up from years of neglect. But I had moves. Trojan reached for me. I ducked, put my head and one shoulder between his legs, and popped up. I pushed with everything I had, legs arms… everything. I still don’t know how I did it. Adrenaline I guess. I flipped him over the railing.”
Rowan inhaled sharply. “He fell from the top of the garage?”
Nick nodded. “I took off before the cops came. For whatever reason, Trojan’s men never bothered me again. Maybe they didn’t know who I was. Maybe they couldn’t find me once I went away to college. Maybe I just wasn’t worth it.”
Rowan studied him, angry for the abuse he’d suffered as a child but in awe of his perseverance and quick thinking. At that moment, Rowan saw Nick for the first time. Oh, he was human. He’d bleed red if she cut him, and he had a four-chambered heart instead of one made of stone like her own. He couldn’t change into anything, and he would grow old and die as all humans did, but he was a survivor and much tougher than he looked. When he’d fought off those vampires at Wicked Divine, he’d shown her who he was.
He truly was a warrior, and any woman would be proud to be his.
“You think differently of me because I killed him.” Nick picked at one of his nails.
She started in surprise. “Not at all. You survived. I’m… I’m admiring you.”
His eyes lifted to hers and locked. “I don’t talk about this often, Rowan. Never. But I told you before that if you knew about my childhood, you would believe me when I say I can protect myself. That Ineedto be able to protect myself.” He cast daggers toward her purse and probably at the talisman inside. “I wanted you to know who I am because it’s important to me that you see me, really see me, you know. The same way I see you, wings and all. If my past isn’t something you can accept…” He didn’t finish his sentence because his voice cracked.
“You have a past,” she said, moving closer until she could feel the heat from his body through the front of her dress. “All the most interesting people do. We should get along just fine.”
He released a relieved breath. “I think plenty of interesting people don’t have the little childhood of horrors I had.” He exhaled slowly, his palms coming to rest on her shoulders and sliding down her arms to her wrists. “But if it’s the key to making you look at me like that, maybe I should have mentioned it sooner.”
The fact that he still had a sense of humor after everything he’d been through and had revisited tonight was her undoing. Her dragon roused, and Rowan closed the tiny gap between their bodies, nothing but the thin material of her dress barring skin from skin. He did not disappoint. The long, lean muscles of his arms wrapped around her, his large hands burrowing into her hair. She loved the feeling of being in his arms. He made her feel wanted, adored. Her chest rose and fell quickly, her head tilting back as she circled his neck with her arms. One of his hands pressed into the curve of her back, his touch igniting an electrical storm within her.
“You don’t need to tell me stories about your past to win my heart,” she said, so close her lips brushed his.
“No? What’s the trick then? Knock down three bottles with a single ball? Ring the bottle? Shoot ducks?” His voice was a gritty whisper.
“You can have it for a kiss.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Lucky me.” He brushed his lips against hers.
“Wait.”
He stopped, backing off a hair’s breadth from her lips.
