Page 2 of Ruin

Our conversation followed on for months, until the day he said he was traveling, which brought us to an isolated, unused research hospital and a meeting that reeked of desperation on my behalf and clinical on his.

Where is the hot-blooded man who showed me so much of himself over the past months?

Damon held out a hand without easing his head, pointing to the chair situated between us.

I sank into the tattered leather, who knew how old, and held myself straight backed. Damon Blaze was not the sort of master who wanted to see a slouching girl as an applicant; he wanted strength and discipline.

I had the first and I wanted to learn the second.

Perfect.

His single-word response to my reasoning, always. That, and nothing else.

Minutes passed while he wrote. My spine curved and I forced myself back into position. Aches bloomed in my lower back, across my shoulders.

All I wanted was to hear his voice, to know I wasn’t wasting both our time, and to know he wouldn’t reject me. A flutter worked its way along my shoulders and settled at the base of my neck.

Finally,finally,Damon raised his head. He studied me with eyes like hungry souls, something he’d collected, perhaps, not his own.

The fanciful thought whipped across my mind. I blinked, my posture waning. Plastic pink and navy rims slid down my nose. I pushed them back and prayed I hadn’t just flipped him the bird.

Not the most auspicious start.

“I don’t allow glasses or contacts in my scenes.” His deep voice coiled around me, as assessing as his eyes. Not judging, just seeing if I was right for the job.

An interview. That’s all this is.

Not two friends chatting over coffee; not a date.

And he started—likely unknowingly—on the perfect icebreaker.

“I’m blind as a bat.” I grinned and let my nerves out in a rush. “At least you won’t have to worry about blindfolds.” He pinned me with an icy stare. A tiny flicker of desire unfolded between my legs. I ducked my head, inhaling too fast and choking on the breath. “Sir.”

I should be scared of him. Damon was scary as shit. Sure he was intimidating, but I wanted to help him, not run from him. IknewI should be scared, but I … wasn’t.

“Can you see at all without them?” He placed his pen on the journal and folded his hands. One thumb twitched, and I knew I was wearing his patience.

For some reason, that gave me energy, not zapping me of it.

“Not much. Maybe this far?” I placed my open palm between us in demonstration, then realized my failing. “Ah, about a foot or so.”

He stared at me in silence. The moment stretched out.

He cleared his throat. “There had better be asirattached to that comment,” he murmured, his deep voice low and dangerous.

Ahh.“Sir,” I added, smiling brightly.

He glowered at me. “You couldn’t drive without them?”

“Nope.” Silence. “Sir?”

“Skills?” He wrote something on his pad.

I frowned. “Such as…”

He knows all this.

He raised his head, impatience worn through in his pale eyes that sliced over me in a brief flicker of an arctic kiss. “Your job, Miss Blythewood?” His eyebrows bunched in consternation at the mouthful.

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