Because this isn’t Ryet.
This is the Darkness.
But something happens here.I’m screaming, but I’m not. It’s in my head, or some place else, or maybe not even happening at all. I can’t tell. Because I’m not in the bed anymore. I’m in a library. Not the Guild library filled with untouchable tomes, but something bright and public.
Ryet is standing next to me. Real Ryet. I know this because he’s grinning at me and his eyes are twinkling and filled with good-natured mischief. This smile and these eyes are familiar in a long-lost way because this is the man, Ryet. Not the monster.
For some reason I’m deliriously happy. The kind of happy that comes after a long day of nothing but good things. So many good moments, you don’t even have time to count them all up and sort them all out.
We’re reaching for the same book on the shelf in front of us, our fingertips touching as we smile at the good fortune of being in the right place at the right time.
We are strangers. I know this, even though it doesn’t make sense.
Neither of us lets go of the book. Neither of us surrenders to the other.
And then something washes over me. Like a memory of forgetting. And I’m not sure where I am, or why I’m here, or who this man is—I just know I must meet him. I have to saysomething to get his attention and lying about my claim on the book feels like the perfect opening.
“I was here first.” I say this with confidence, even though I did actually see him reaching for it when my hand flew up to the spine. We were both browsing the same aisle of books for several minutes. Stealing glances at each other. Trying to be coy.
“Really?” The handsome stranger laughs this word out as he grins at me. He’s amazingly beautiful. Like supernaturally beautiful. “That’s your opening? ‘I was here first?’”
“What? It’s true. I had my hand on the book and you reached for it.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re just… gonna lean in to it, aren’t you?”
I blink my eyes at him, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
We’re both still holding on the book. He nods his head at it. “Do you even know what this book is about?”
I have no idea what the title is, let alone what it’s about. I glance at the spine—Lovers Under a Bridge—then look back at him with confidence. “Of course I know what it’s about.”
He smirks back at me, calling me out as a liar with his eyes, but it’s not a serious call-out. It’s more like a challenge-accepted call-out. “You think it’s about lovers under a bridge, don’t you?”
I shrug one shoulder up. “That’s… part of it. But… it’s got… deep, dark undertones.”
“So you’ve read it?” His eyebrows have shot up to the top of his forehead. Like he’s surprised. But it’s not a real surprise, just a flirty one. We’re playing a little game here. A little game called meet-cute banter.
We’re probably gonna have sex. Maybe he’ll take me back to his place, or maybe I’ll take him back to my place, or maybe we’ll just do it right here in the stacks like sex-addicted exhibitionists. But this is no ordinary chance meeting. It’s… a beginning.
“Dozens of times.”
He scoffs. But it’s still in good-natured territory. “OK.” He has to stop and chuckle here. “What are the main characters’ names?”
I don’t even hesitate. “Esmerelda and Tony.”
He laughs so loud, it echoes off the library ceiling. Then takes a moment to look properly embarrassed while simultaneously peeking down and through the stacks to see if anyone will come chastise him. When he’s sure the coast is clear, he directs those mischievous and twinkling eyes back at me. “Nailed it.” I press my lips together, stifling my own outburst. “But you’re not out of the woods yet. I’m gonna need a plot.”
I tsk my tongue and stare at him in mock open-mouthed shock. “Are you really challenging me to a pop-quiz duel?”
“Is that a thing?”
I shrug. “I’m making it up as I go here.”
“You’re really good at it.”
I curtsey, lifting up the hem of my little summer dress. “Thank you.”
He holds up a finger. “But I’ve got my heart set on this book.”
