“I’m aware.”
Aurelie watched in a daze as Des entered the library, which now felt almost claustrophobically small, given how much space he took up. She gestured to a wingback chair, then bent down to where her spilled teacup was still resting on the carpet. She set it on its saucer, hoping he didn’t notice the rattling caused by her shaky hands. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
He studied her for a minute, clearly relishing the fact that he’d caught her off guard. Fortunately, the fire had died down to kindling, because Aurelie was flushed all over. Why didn’t he say something?
His lips twitched in an almost-smile as they took their seats in the two armchairs. The difference between how much space they took up seemed suddenly impossible to ignore. Aurelie was often described as petite, but the truth was, she was short, barely five feet tall on a good day. It made Des’s size feel even more ridiculous. She was acutely aware that her feet dangled several inches above the ground, and while there was nothing wrong with being little, there was a certain indignity in having to perch at the end of the armchair or sit back fully and have her feet hover above the floor. She had the peculiar feeling of having no earthly idea what to do with her own hands and somehow concluded that sitting on them was her best course of action.
She’d never been alone with this man before.
This man, who had humiliated her and accused her of horrible things. This man, who had also saved her life.
Now she was in such a state that she honestly didn’t know what to feel. Aurelie looked up to find Des watching her intently.
She shook her head to clear it. “I apologize. I’m not myself today. This week has been... Well, you know how this week has been.”
He nodded but remained quiet.
“At the risk of sounding self-absorbed,” she said, trying and failing to keep her tone neutral, “is there something I can do for you?”
He scratched the back of his neck, looking more sheepish than Aurelie would have thought possible. He inhaled and released his breath slowly. “I came to apologize, Miss Blake. The way I behaved last night, how I spoke to you.” He shook his head. “It was uncalled-for.”
Aurelie hadn’t expected an apology, and now she found she didn’t want it, either. It was easier to believe that he was a callous, unfeeling ogre than a human being who made mistakes. “Oh, please don’t—”
“What you said, that I was accusing you because of my own guilt? You were right. My duty is to protect the people of Wisteria from demonic activity, and someone died because of my own failure. Mr. Barley...” He broke off when he saw the confused look on Aurelie’s face. “The man who died. You should know, he was not a good person.”
Aurelie had no idea what to say to this. To any of this. Every single word out of the giant’s mouth was anathema to every feeling she’d had for him up until this moment. “I don’t understand.”
“He was a criminal. The worst kind, in my opinion. If someone had to die at the hands of a demon, I suppose we should be grateful it was him.”
Aurelie wasn’t sure if this made her feel better, but she decided it didn’t make it any worse. “I see. Thank you for letting me know.”
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, as if he were waiting for Aurelie to say something more. For a brief moment, the image of thesomniaon the other side of Easton Hall’s doors came back to her. She’d tried not to think about it, because every time she did, she became a little less certain about accepting Everard’s proposal. A little less certain that shewasn’tconsorting with demons, considering she had one sleeping in her laboratory at that very moment. Right now, Lieutenant Whitlow believed he was mistaken about her. But what if he was right? Should she tell him about thesomniathat spoke to her? Was she putting others at risk bynottelling him?
If she did, that would be the end of her inventing, at least for the foreseeable future. The Iron Guard would probably put more guards on duty at Wisteria University, and she’d be under particular scrutiny. Mephisto would have to be kept hidden, which would not be easy. Though she often thought of the little creature as more companion than demon, she knew no one else would see it that way. Except for Kiara, and even she refused to touch it.
Before she could make sense of her jumbled thoughts, Des leaned forward with his hand outstretched and Aurelie froze, her mind a complete blank as to what was happening. He swiped his thumb against her forehead, sweeping her fringe aside, and she only managed to stifle her gasp by biting her lip. His face was inches from hers, but his eyes were focused on her forehead.
“Are you hurt?” he asked softly.
Aurelie had stopped breathing. Des had lifted out of his seatslightly and was bracing himself against the wing of the chair with his left hand, caging her in, while his right continued to gently probe her forehead. She could feel the soft puff of his exhalations on her skin, a stark contrast to the roughness of his hands. She’d never been this close to a person since her parents died, let alone a man.
She told herself he was a guard, that this sort of proximity between men and women was perfectly normal in his world. He and Daisy regarded each other as equals, likely doing everything together, from eating to training to sleeping.
The thought made her blush, and yet she didn’t move. He lowered his right hand. His eyes, which had been fixated on her forehead, suddenly flicked down to hers.
Warmth flooded Aurelie, her blood rushing in her ears. Her stomach, or something just below it, did an odd swooping thing that she’d heard Kiara describe as butterflies.
Oh, she thought, with all the surprise of a scientist realizing, suddenly, that their hypothesis had been entirely incorrect.Oh, my.
He was so close that she noticed his eyes were not gray or blue, but something in between that reminded her of the soft silver-green of lamb’s ears. There were several small scars scattered across his face, as though from shattered glass. She felt the strangest urge to touch them. Ten minutes ago she would have described his mouth as stern, but now—
He glanced at his thumb. “Ah, just charcoal. I thought it was a bruise,” he murmured.
She blinked, recovering herself, and was grateful when he sat back all the way. A few more seconds and who knew what she might have done. “That happens a lot.”
“A hazard of the job,” he said.
She breathed a laugh, not entirely sure if he was mocking her. A part of her wished he would leave so she could refill her teacup and ponder what in the world had just happened to her. And another part of her wanted to test the hypothesis further.