I turned to stare at her. Her frown was still there, but a strange sort of conviction had settled in her face.
“You’re Nicolas, right?”
“Cole,” I corrected automatically.
“He smiles when he talks about you. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that. I don’t think he realizes he’s doing it, though.” Then she paused, sizing me up. Her dark eyes were hard and impossible to read. “Hurt him, and I promise you’ll regret ever being born.”
With that, she closed the door.
He smiles when he talks about me?I thought, grinning to myself like a fool.
How odd that such a small piece of information could make me feel so strangely happy.
CHAPTER TEN || ELI
Iwas going crazy. That was the only explanation that made any sense. Nicolas had no heartbeat. And he could move blindingly fast. He wasn’t human.
But that was impossible.
Wasn’t it?
It hadn’t stopped me from staying until morning, though.
Nicolas had looked so peaceful that I hadn’t wanted to wake him. Even though he was a madman who had purchased the house directly next door to me and had openly, shamelessly admitted to following me. Even though he wasn’t human.
He hadn’t breathed. And he had no pulse at all. No heartbeat.
Yes, I had to be going insane. There was no other explanation for it. Was there?
Work ended up being another long, mercilessly grueling shift. About an hour before I was supposed to get off, paramedics brought in four patients, all of them from a multi-car crash on the freeway. Two had been banged up pretty badly but were going to heal up just fine. The other two were in bad shape. I spent the next four hours stabilizing them. I was grateful for the distraction.
Even though those vivid, too-bright blue eyes were never far from my memory. Nor was the scent of him. Or the way he had fallen right to sleep the moment I pulled him close. Nicolas was astudy in contradictions—blithe and carefree, to the point where his sanity was under serious doubt. Yet there was something else there, too: a tiny speck of vulnerability and tenderness that was more beguiling than it had any right to be. It hinted at a man more complex and strange than anyone I had ever met.
And then there were the dreams.
I had dreamed of him again last night. It was different this time. I had been in a wooden room lit by lanterns, and it smelled strongly of burning wax and leather. I had been with an older man—someone I knew very well—who was painstakingly sewing a black leather boot by hand. Then the door opened and daylight swept over the room, causing me to blink rapidly.
And then he had been standing there, dressed in white hose and a brilliant white tunic embroidered with emerald-green thread. He stood in the doorway for just an instant, his hair illuminated in hundreds of shades of gold by the sun.
Nicolas.
My heart beat faster in my chest at the sight of him. My hand tightened around a rag I was holding, soaked in oil. And then he flashed me a smile, pointed at his feet, and spoke in rapid-fire French that I somehow had no trouble interpreting:My boots need repair. Can you help?
I stared at him blankly, uncertain how a creature as lovely as Nicolas could have entered our cramped little shop. But before I could form words, the older man I was with shot me a strange look from the other end of the counter, as though he’d caught my reaction. Then he turned back to Nicolas with a beaming smile and replied in French:Of course, monsieur. We would be delighted to help you.
I had woken up with the scent of leather, wax, and oil still clinging to me. It was startling to find myself in bed, in a place with running water and electricity—but with Nicolas still beside me.
This time, I had woken without any pain in my chest at all.
The dream was strange. I knew exactly one phrase in French, courtesy ofMoulin Rouge.I certainly didn’t know the language well enough for it to have seeped into my dreams. Nor did it make any sense why my subconscious kept associating Nicolas with a past I had to have invented. But it hadn’t felt like a dream. It felt like a memory—a vividly intense one.
Nicolas hadn’t stirred when I left. His heart wasn’t beating, and he wasn’t breathing. But his eyelids fluttered anyway, as though he was in the midst of a dream.
Impossible.
The smart thing to do was to stay as far away from him as possible. But I wasn’t sure I was capable of doing that. I didn’twantto do that.
Yeah, I was in trouble.
