“We were told that the situation didn’t constitute an immediate emergency.” His mouth had compressed into a troubled line. “Most employees who’d normally coordinate our response are off for the holidays, but last I heard, both common human and SERC response teams were working on the problem.”
With effort, she kept her voice firm. “Who told you that?”
He plucked his cell from the foyer’s sleek console table, tapped the screen a few times, and scrolled through his messages. “The common human government’s Zone admin department issued a bulletin.”
“You should have made further inquiries. You’re a Council representative, and you have constituents in the Zone.”Including me, she added silently. “To be fair, though, even people in Zone C, where I live, assumed at first that the main gate had malfunctioned, because that happens all the time. Which it shouldn’t, since we pay our taxes like everyone else. We might be poor, but we’re still citizens. We still matter.”
“If you live inside the Zone and the gate isn’t working, how did you—” He cut himself off as the rest of her words registered. “Wait. You assumedat first? Is the official understanding of the situation incorrect or incomplete in some fashion?”
She couldn’t help it. She began laughing hysterically, because yes. Oh,yes, his official understanding of the situation was very, very incomplete.
“Ms. Wexloff.” He reached out a hand. Let it drop again. “Ms. Wexloff, are you well?”
“Gwen,” she corrected once she could speak intelligibly again.“And forgive me, but saying that the official account of what’s happened in the Containment Zone over the last several days is incomplete is avastunderstatement. So vast it could curb-stomp our entire solar system.”
That intent stare landed on her again. Lingered, as if he were painstakingly evaluating her very soul and determining its worth. And honestly? She got why he might hesitate to encourage the breathless rantings of a low-rent oracle in Guy Fieri drag whom he’d personally witnessed lying like the world’s cheapest, most cheese-obsessed rug.
“Listen, I know you have no reason to believe me,” she began, “but—”
He held up a hand, palm out, and she fell silent.
In a single, controlled movement, he twisted to set aside his cell. Then he turned back to her and stepped nearer. Less than an arm’s length away. This time, when the weight of his undivided attention settled upon her, she had to brace herself under its impact with a hand against his winter-white wall.
Angular features and intelligent brown eyes. A faint, pleasant smoky smell. The quiet soughs of his breathing. Bone-melting demonic warmth radiating from his body, noticeable even at a slight distance.
He filled her senses entirely, and his close presence seemed to envelop and cocoon her, shutting out their surroundings and the distant clamor of her many worries.
She blinked at him, dizzied. Rapt.
The past twenty years had changed him, further sharpening the angles of his face and transforming his youthful slightness and elfin-prince looks into something more dangerous. His narrow frame now held the lean austerity and unforgiving power ofa whip. His mane of straight, sleep-mussed hair contained a few glints of silver. As his thick, neat beard and the squint lines at the corners of his eyes demonstrated, he was no longer a smooth-faced boy.
Even if she’d met him on a crowded city street, though, rather than in his own foyer, those changes wouldn’t have stopped her from recognizing him immediately. Maybe because demons aged somewhat more slowly than humans, so his outer transformation had been more superficial than hers. Or maybe because his presence during the worst moment of her life had marked her so indelibly, she’d be able to identify him until her last breath.
There were some things she hadn’t fully appreciated back then, however. The exact shade of his irises, for example. Amber, the same rich hue as the smoked honey she’d always imagined drizzling over a lavender-infused wheel of goat cheese. And his scent…well, she’d known that he smelled like smoke, of course. But twenty years ago, a single whiff hadn’t reminded her of s’mores over a campfire. Hadn’t transported her back to the lone camping trip she’d ever taken with her Maryland friends before she’d been transferred to Delphi Academy.
She leaned harder against the wall, the welcome heat of his proximity and his apartment draining the strength from her weary limbs.
“Gwen.” A pause. “Gwen, are you well?”
Vaguely, she understood that this wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get her attention. And he was still speaking, but concentrating on his actual words was impossible.
He said something about sitting down. His light, startlingly hot grip on her cold elbow stung her skin even through her oversized bowling shirt and lumpy sweater, and she didn’t care. Allshe wanted to do was snuggle closer and rest against his walking, talking, fancy-pajama-pants-wearing heating pad of a body until her energy returned.
“I’m fine. Just really tired,” she murmured. “You’re so warm. Feels nice.”
Their progress toward…somewhere…halted for a moment before resuming.
When cushions nudged against the backs of her thighs, her weak knees gave way, and she collapsed into his sofa’s overly firm embrace. With a flick of his hands, he settled a velvety throw over her, and she closed her eyes for just one moment.
By the time she opened them again, a steaming cup of tea and an ornate plate of crackers had appeared on the marble-topped table at her side, and she could think clearly again.
“I’m so sorry.” Dread coiling in her gut, she forced herself to sit upright. “How long did I rest?”
Several weeks ago, for the first time in her life, she’d begun taking regular micro-naps. But in this case, it was more like the micro-nap had takenher. At the worst possible time too.
“Not long. Less than ten minutes.” He was seated in a nearby chair, waiting silently, without any obvious sign of impatience. “Are you feeling better?”
From the flaming heat of her face, it’d probably turned redder than her hair, which was great. Just absolutely fantastic. Nothing saidyou can trust me, I’m a competent human who totally knows what critical, possibly illegal activities of worldwide import need to happen nextmore than randomly falling asleep on a guy, then becoming a human beefsteak tomato.
