What’s necessary was staying away until now, even when it became a special brand of torture. With every passing second, the craving for her increased, the desperate need to seal my hands around her waking me in the night, becoming more beast than man as I fought the vicious demand lashing at my bones.
“Not today.” I force myself to release her. “Awareness of our ephemeral condition keeps us modest. This particular piece always grounds me. Figured I needed the reminder.” I shift my gaze to the oil painting, tracing the calculated play of light, the way the shadows emphasize the reliefs and cavities of the skulls. “Really, it’s a deception. Death being a non-event makes it no less real. An event defined only by the absence of life. Like a horizon we can’t see or touch, yet we know the boundary is there by what’s lost.”
Collins studies my profile, a slight divot creasing between her brows. “Does this mean you have something prepared for the investors on your research?” she asks, doing her best to keep me grounded herself, but I catch the hard swallow slip along her throat.
I lower my mouth close to her ear. “The fragrance you wear smells like snapdragons.” I inhale a punishing lungful of her seductive scent. “Did you know that when the petals die, they look like skulls?” I straighten, casting a purposeful glance at the painting. “I’m simply saying, if we can’t escape the reminder that’s everywhere, at all times, we might as well embrace it.”
I haven’t been able to escape her—not once—since she crashed into my orbit.
Her mouth parts, her concerned eyes searching my face before dropping to the trace of ink escaping the collar of my unbuttoned oxford. “Is that why you’ve inked those words on yourself?” she asks. “Your way of embracing what you feel is out of your control?”
“Clever starling.” A wry smile slants my lips. “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.” I make a move to touch the top button of her blouse, and she pulls away.
“Orion, please,” she whispers, “talk to me.”
My jaw tightens, teeth grinding under the restraint. Another reason I had to stay away; I have absolutely no control over the dark tide of urges surging inside me. The vicious swell grows stronger as the hour looms closer. Her nearness might quiet the distortion, but right now, this close, it also provokes these wicked impulses.
“God, it’s fucking maddening,” I mutter under my breath, and she eases another inch closer, a fearful desperation filling her eyes.
Maybe she’s worried about who she brought back on that shore. Whether she should have simply let me devolve into dissociative oblivion.
She raises a hand toward me. “Orion?—”
“Ah,memento mori,” Leo interrupts, emerging from around the corner. Collins quickly withdraws. “In pursuit of our greatness, we must remain humble. Nothing is as sobering to the ego as our mortality. Right, Rye?”
Frustration singes my muscles as I face him. “It definitely kills a mood.”
He recoils slightly from the affront, though nothing can dampenhis mood completely. Clearing his throat, he says, “Well, I hope the weather clears soon.” He casts a nervous glance toward the arched windows just as a rumble of thunder sounds. “The rain will not make for ideal viewing conditions.”
As forecasted, a storm has washed ashore, dragging a torrent of chaos into Shorehaven. Battering winds and heavy rain have forced residents—along with the thousands who’ve flocked here to observe the solar eclipse—to seek shelter indoors.
Collins lifts her chin, hand now gripped around the handle of her umbrella. “Do you think we’ll have clear skies by noon, Dr. Night?”
I remove my glasses, sliding them into the breast pocket of my suit jacket. “Unfortunately.”
A frown darkens her pretty features, the tension practically tangible.
Leo glances between us, then pins me with a look. “I just wanted to confirm that your speech kicks off at eleven-fifteen.” He makes a production of checking his wristwatch. “Just a half hour from now?—”
“I’ll be there,” I assure him, my response curt as an anxious coil winds around my spine.
He nods once, taking the hint. “Right. I have to say, I’ve been impressed this past month, Rye. I know the donors are looking forward to your update as much as I am,” he adds, layering a subtle threat there.
“I have no doubt the symposium will impress everyone, Dr. Banner,” Collins says, dispersing some of the tense atmosphere with a sweet smile. “Which, I should probably get ready for myself.”
Yet, even as Leo steps away, Collins remains, wary eyes narrowed on me and brimming with the same fearful uncertainty I witnessed amid the rocking ocean waves.
She senses some danger, and for a fractured heartbeat, part of me wants to confirm her fear—to show her the fiend and send her fleeing.
But another part of me wants her more.
“I have something to show you first.” I slip my hand into hers, threading our fingers together to prevent her escape.
She sends me a sideways glance, unease etched in her drawn features. “Do you really, or are you just trying to get me alone, Dr. Night.”
The dark filaments stir, a devious lash against my fraying control. “If I admit to the latter, will you run?” I tighten my hold on her, her umbrella swaying between us.
She makes an amused, breathy sound that strokes my skin, dangerously arousing. “Unlikely.” The slow sweep of her tongue across her lips is torturous. “But only if you tell me why Banner calls you Rye.”
