Page 201 of Black Reign

His hair is wet from the London rain.

Black coat open over a suit.

Chest rising hard.

Almost-black eyes fixed on my face.

Not the room.

Not his men.

Me.

His gaze drops to my mouth.

I see recognition happen.

Those lips.

He knows them.

His eyes lift.

My real eyes.

Cornflower blue.

Something in his face breaks.

Not much.

Xavier Blackwell doesn't break easily.

Enough.

“Vesper.”

My throat closes.

All the years.

All the messages.

London Bridge.

The wedding.

The rose.

The Scotch.

Romeo and Juliet.

Ghost.

Standing three feet away.

Real.