He took in my appearance, his eyes drinking me in slowly, lazily. Elena kept her house warm, and after my shower I’d pulled my hair into a messy bun and changed into the clothes she’d left out for me—a pair of soft cotton shorts and a black Dead Weather T-shirt, Ronan’s sweatshirt tied around my waist. It wasn’t especially glamorous, but Darius seemed to appreciate the outfit.
My cheeks heated under his gaze.
“Don’t be,” he said, a teasing smile tugging his lips. “I’m sure I’ve been in worse scrapes. Haven’t I?”
I nodded, thinking of the time we were attacked at the morgue. The time we fought of those vamps at Norah’s place. The time we battled memory eater demons in the Shadowrealm…
Darius had been through so much. This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
I knelt on the carpet before him, resting my cheek on his knee and closing my eyes. The familiar scent of his skin emanated through the fabric of his borrowed sweats—whiskey and leather and something inexplicably his.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” he mused. “I’m quite dangerous, if popular opinion is to be believed.”
I lifted my face, forcing myself to open my eyes and stare into his. He held my gaze, unblinking, studying me as I studied him.
“Whatever are you looking for, love?”
The tenderness in his voice was like a scalpel, so clear and sharp I could almost tell myself I didn’t really feel it slicing through my heart.
But that would be a lie. Every moment Darius spent tied up here, his memories lost or locked away or entirely eradicated, hurt me in ways I couldn’t pretendnotto feel. I felt every bit of it. For him. For me. For all of us.
Tears escaped, despite my efforts to keep them prisoner.
“There, there.” Darius ducked his head, offering a warm smile. “It can’t be as bad as all that, can it?”
“It’sworsethan all that,” I said.
“Tell me what’s troubling you. Maybe I can help.” He tried to shrug, but his movements were limited by the straightjacket. “Well, nothelp, exactly. But I can certainly listen. I’m an excellent listener.”
That got a smile out of me. Darius had always been a good listener.
I untied the sweatshirt from my waist, setting it on the floor as I rose up on my knees, my hands sliding up his thighs. He opened his legs to allow me to get closer, and I did—as close as I dared. We were at eye level now, and I had no idea what would come next. There was no plan, no projection. Only instinct. And right now, my instincts were telling me that this was okay. That it was right.
“Darius, do you remember me atall?” I asked.
His face changed then, the teasing smile gone, his eyes smoldering as he stared deeply into mine, searching. I held my breath, waiting for the flicker of recognition to come. A smile. A word. A joke. A look that only Darius could give me.
But after another moment of searching, his face fell, his eyes filling not with recognition, but sorrow. Disappointment.
“For what it’s worth,” he said gently, “I truly wish I could. I’m so sorry, love.”
He looked utterly pained by the admission.
I nodded, but I had to believe he was still in there. That his memories hadn’t been erased, only misplaced, locked away behind a wall. We just had to figure out how to knock that wall down.
I took a deep breath and got to my feet, still standing between his knees.
Sliding my hands over his shoulders, I reached behind him for the straps of the jacket.
“Lean forward,” I said.
“Gray, is this really the best course of action?” he asked.
“Don’t you want to get out of this contraption?”
“More than you know. But the others… they think I’m a threat to you. Perhaps there’s some truth to that.”
“You would never hurt me,” I said, needing him to believe it as much as I did. “You… you might not remember it now, but you care for me a great deal.”
