Blaéz held the passenger door open. He stood too close. His body heat enfolded her, his sexy mouth was just a tempting head tilt away. In sheer self-preservation, Darci clambered into a low seat of sublime decadence. She dropped her tote to the floorboard and inhaled a deep, calming breath.
He shut the door, rounded the hood, and got in beside her. The engine purred to life, and they left the castle behind and soon crossed a steel bridge running over clear blue waters. She glanced at Blaéz as he shifted gears, but his entire focus appeared to be on the road. Guess he wasn’t one for small talk.
An hour later, at the police station downtown, Blaéz waited while she laid charges against the three men who’d attacked her last night. Tagg, the detective on the case, a big man with a buzz cut and sharp angular features took her statement. Only Blaéz’s presence next to her kept her sane and not running as she relived the incident. Thank God she didn’t have to see her attackers face-to-face. The mug shots to identify them didn’t help much since it had been dark and she could barely make them out.
After they left the police station, she became aware of how quiet Blaéz had gone. Nothing showed on his face, but something was different; she could feel the distance like a widening chasm. He’d withdrawn from her.
She tried to understand what had happened. What had changed since that morning?
Yes, he’d saved her.Thatshe understood, then he’d taken her to his home to recover, which she didn’t get. She knew he liked her. Heck, the guy had threatened a sit-in at her library until she’d agreed to see him. And now, he’d just switched off?
She didn’t buy it. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“I see…” Her fingers clenched on her lap. “Then why did you take me to your home—protect me?”
“I would have done so for anyone.”
Unexpected hurt shimmered through her. Well, that set her straight. She wasn’t anyone special, just a job. Darci picked up her tote as he brought the sleek vehicle to a purring halt in front of the library. She opened the door, but he was already there.
“Thanks for the ride and for saving me last night—”
“I don’t expect thanks,” he cut her off, tone terse. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t prevent it.” With a hand on her back, he moved her aside, shut the door, and walked her up the few steps to the huge front entrance of the library. “And you do matter.”
Her heart tripped. It was the last thing she’d expected. “What are you saying?”
“Something I damn well shouldn’t.”
Still, that inkling of hope was hard to let go. “Will I see you again?”
His brooding gaze met hers. As if compelled, he gently ran a finger along her jaw. “If I could, I would hold on to you, never let you go. But I’m fucked up in every way, and would only hurt you.”
“Blaéz—” She grasped his wrist.
He shook his head and dropped his hand. “What we want is but a dream. Trust me, it’s better this way. Goodbye, Darci Callahan. Be safe for me. And never use that alley again.”
He loped down the steps to his car. Moments later, the Veyron and its dangerous occupant disappeared down the street.
A dream? Darci really wished it were, maybe then she wouldn’t feel this unexpected sense of loss.
Chapter 7
Blaéz stoppedat the corner of Broome and Canal Streets, the night air thick with humidity and exhaust fumes. The drone of car engines and people yakking filled the streets, yet he felt far removed from it all.
Time seemed to have slowed down to a trickle since he’d left Darci yesterday. Even the demonii kill earlier had made little impact.
This was his lot in life, time…endless time.
Had he done the right thing?
Darci was all that made sense in his life. He’d lived a lifetime of emotions in that brief moment with her. The confusion in her beautiful eyes when he’d walked away made him realize he’d behaved like a bastard. He’d gone after her like some demented stalker and demanded her attention, then he’d walked away—walked away from the only person he ever truly wanted.
No, it was better this way. He could never protect her from himself and the shit that came with him.
Head lowered, he continued up the street once more. He must have walked a million miles, wore down countless pairs of boots. Night after night, he did the same thing. And would for eternity.
He needed a drink—needed the liquid heat that would warm the cold void inside of him.
