Page 78 of Eyes in the Shadows

I raise my brows. “Only three?” then, realizing how that sounded, I make a face. “I mean—”

“I know what you mean. Yeah, only three. I left the others.”

A chill shoots up my spine. He left witnesses? “Why?” it comes out barely above a whisper. I’m so afraid of the answer, and I’m not even really sure why.

His hands travel up from my feet. Still using a stiff massaging motion, he slides under my heels and circles my ankles. “Because I could. Because someone reminded me that I held people’s lives in my hands and that I have a choice not to become a monster.”

I swallow hard, surprised to find my throat thick with emotion. “I didn’t say all that,” I choke out.

He smiles a little and it’s an odd expression—the corners of his lips still point down. “You did, just not using those exact words.”

It suddenly feels like my skin is too small for my body—I’m soaring, flying towards him and somewhere above us both, reveling in the feeling of importance and worth. His fingers anchor me, though, as they dig into my calves. He finds a tight spot, applies pressure, and I bite down on a moan.

My head is so full of thoughts, each one vying to be the first one on my lips. What comes out is, “I was so afraid tonight. I was afraid you’d get hurt—”

“I’m usuallypretty far from the action,” he says, releasing one of my calves to take a drink from his beer. “I still have to be on my game and secure my spot, but I’m not in as much danger as Dimitri is, for example.”

That actually does calm some of the swirling panic. “I was also afraid,” I inhale and throw back the rest of the glass for courage, “that you’d succeed.”

He grimaces. “I know you don’t like—”

“No, wait, let me… I meant because if Rossi is dead, there’s no more reason for me to stay here.” I chance a look up and find him staring at me, eyes intense. His fingers stop moving. “I’m just… um… I mean, can we just pretend like it doesn’t have to end?”

“You want to pretend?”

“I don’t want to think about everything else.”

“Everything else?”

“Like what happens when I leave? You don’t live here, you’re renting. You probably move all over, and even if you did want to bring me along, I can’t imagine that’s a good idea for either of us…” I trail off, hoping he’ll jump in and let me off the hook. He doesn’t, so I clear my throat. “Let’s just pretend like we’re going to figure it out and make it work. Let’s pretend like there isn’t a time limit. Okay?”

He resumes rubbing my legs with a secret little smile on his lips. “Eleanor, let me ask you something. Do you want to figure out how to make it work?”

I bite my lip. More than anything. The worst emotion I had in that awful mixed bag was the paralyzing fear that I’d have to give him up. There's still this insidious worry that he’s going to tire of me eventually, and leave me at some point… But that future heartbreak can be future Eleanor’s problem.

“Yes.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” His tone is final. Decided. “Come on, it’s late.”

He finishes his beer while I clean up my mess, and we climb up the stairs and into bed. For the first night since we started being intimate, we don’t have sex. We just lay there, cuddled, holding each other. And the wall I’d started trying to build around my heart comes crumbling back down.

29

Mac

Date stuff

She stirs as I sit on the bed, fully dressed, putting on my watch. I tug the covers up higher over her back and she opens her eyes, blinks slowly, and smiles. My body responds instantly to the soft, sweet look, humming with warmth and energy. I lean down to kiss her temple.

“What time is it?” the rasp of sleep is thick in her voice. She clears her throat.

“Early. I have to go check on a few things. But I want you to be ready to go tonight at 9 PM.”

The relaxation disappears from her expression and she lifts up off the pillow. “Go?”

“We’re going on a date.”

She falls back down, rolling a little to face me better. A tentative smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “A… date? Like, outside the house? Around… other people?”

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