Page 5 of Temporary Vows

Dorian never forgave him. Orus. Guilty by association.

I watch him cross the café, every step measured, unhurried, like nothing just happened.

The door swings open, letting in a rush of cold air, and for one stupid second, I think he might turn around.

He doesn’t.

The door closes behind him, the sound dull and final, and something inside my chest goes still.

Whatever version of Dorian Vale I used to know belongs to another life.

The past doesn’t follow you forever.

Sometimes, it walks away and never looks back.

“Elodie!” Beth snaps. “Clean that up.Now. And get your head together before you spill anything else.”

I flinch and drop my gaze to the mess at my feet—coffee seeping into the floor, shattered cups, the evidence of a moment that never mattered to anyone but me.

Get my head together?

I wish I could.

Chapter 2

Dorian

Iglance down at my jacket, checking the coffee stain is covered. It is, though the wetness of my shirt clings to my chest. A reminder of the young woman who put it there.

Christ almighty. Of all the things to happen to me.

Funny how the past has a way of sneaking up on you.

In my case, I seem to be haunted by ghosts.

Elodie Harper.

Her name rings through my mind as I walk down the street, her image following just as relentlessly.

Bright green eyes. White-blonde hair. Those soft, curving lips.

Not sure how I forgother. Or maybe, like most things from the past, I simply decided not to remember.

That’s what I’ve always done—buried what doesn’t serve me so deep it might as well never have existed.

That said, Elodie Harper looks different from the girl I used to know.

Not exactly like Jack’s little sister, the quiet shadow who used to hover at the edges of our world before everything fractured and burned.

And I don’t mean the tiredness and frustration etched beneath her bloodshot eyes. Or even the gauntness, the way life has clearly taken more than it’s given.

She’s all grown up now.

A woman.

A woman with a body made for the dark desires of a man like me, whether I like it or not.

Which I don’t.