Wyedari Oblivion looked nothing like the ruler of the Hellish domain he had lorded over the night before. No dark armor, no throne carved from obsidian and bone. No power pressing visibly against the edges of the room.
No, now he was dressed in a tailored suit that fit his massive frame with infuriating perfection. The dark fabric cut sharp, every seam following the lines of his body as though magic itself had shaped it to him. His pale hair was neatly tied back, emphasizing his regal features. He looked corporate, composed, devastatingly out of place, and entirely at ease all at once.
My heart dropped into my stomach, and I promptly forgot how to breathe. For a moment, I genuinely wondered if I’d finally snapped. If this was what a nervous breakdown looked like, complete with hallucinations that followed you to work and sat in on meetings like they paid rent. I blinked once. Then again.
But he didn’t disappear.
No, instead his gaze found me immediately.
It was subtle, the shift in the room, but it was one I felt like a physical touch. Like a hand closing gently but firmly aroundmy spine. Those pale blue eyes locked onto mine with quiet certainty, recognition sparking there without surprise, without confusion, as if he knew exactly where I would be and when.
The dream crashed back into me without warning. The throne. The web. His arms closing around me…You are mine now.My pulse spiked hard enough to blur my vision, heat flooding my face as a thousand questions collided in my head at once.
What the fuck was he doing here?!
How did he know where I worked?
Why did he look so unfairly good in a suit?
I became acutely aware of myself in that moment. Of the way my pencil skirt hugged my hips. Of the faint scent of my perfume. Of the bandage wrapped around my hand, cementing last night’s events as something physical and inescapable. I felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with naked skin and everything to do with being seen in my soul-baring entirety.
And then my boss cleared his throat behind me.
“Well…” he muttered under his breath,
“Don’t just stand there.”
My feet moved because they had to, because everyone was watching, and because collapsing dramatically in the doorway felt like poor office etiquette. I stepped further into the room, letting the door close behind me, the sound carrying the finality of castle gates slamming shut.
I could feel Oblivion’s attention on me like a weight, steady and unrelenting. The type that made my skin prickle in a way that had absolutely no place in a professional setting. I fumbled with my bag, fingers clumsy, trying to ground myself in something solid and normal.
This was a meeting.
This was work.
He was just a client.
Yeah, yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Eliza, I thought, barely suppressing a groan. The lie barely formed before it dissolved. He was about as far from just a fucking client as one person could get!
“Now that we’re all here,” my boss said briskly, clapping his hands together,
“We can begin. As you know, this presentation has been rescheduled at the client’s request.”
My stomach twisted.
Oblivion leaned back in his chair, one arm resting casually against the table, the picture of relaxed authority. When he spoke, his voice was exactly as I remembered it, smooth and controlled enough to carry without effort.
“It was, for I felt it was important to see this personally,” he said, his gaze never leaving mine, and my breath caught despite myself.
As for my boss, he was practically beaming at him, making me wonder what that look of adoration would turn into if he knew the truth.
“Of course. We’re very proud of the work that’s been done. Miss Shadowmere has, up until now, been leading the campaign,” Mr. Banner said, by way of introduction, I suppose.
Although, I found myself wondering what he would do if he knew how we had already met. Because I was fairly certain an exorcist would be summoned before lunch.
Oblivion’s eyes flickered briefly to my boss, then returned to me, something dark and knowing curling faintly at the corner of his mouth. When he spoke again, it was softer and unmistakably directed at me, even as the rest of the room listened.
“Miss Shadowmere, I presume,” he said smoothly, tilting his head just enough to be unquestionably familiar.
