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He considers my words, then nods. “I suppose that is true. Who was it?”
“Who was who?”
“The person you saved?”
“You wouldn’t know him.”
“Try me. Sometimes it helps to get it out.”
“Elijah.”
“Hawthorne? As in the vampire who acted like a miserable ass?”
“Yes—” Wait a minute. “How did you know about him? He was after you.”
His brows draw together in confusion. “I don’t know.”
My throat constricts as the confirmation slaps me right in the face. “I do. None of this is real.” Turning away, I stare down at the hands still folded in my lap.
“It feels real.” He runs a hand over my back.
“It does,” I agree. “But it’s not.”
“Who the hell knows what’s real anymore,” he jokes.
“I don’t know,” I reply. “But I do know that I need to figure out what’s going on.”
“You are so weighted down by your mind,” Mal coos. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“Well, how about the beginning? Since none of this is real, what’s the harm in a little self-reflection?”
I glance back at him. “You’re taking this quite well.”
He grins and winks. “I’m in your head, so really, it’s you who’s taking it quite well.”
Chuckling, I face back toward the open window as a light breeze carries in and ruffles my hair. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Great. Then unload—tell me your worries. Maybe I can help.” His large fingers knead into my shoulder muscles, sending tendrils of pleasure—completely non-sexual—through my body.
“As I said, I saved Elijah and took in all of the dark magic that would have otherwise killed him.”
“And you didn’t get rid of it right away?”
I shake my head. “I kept it because that magic—dark or not—gave me the power I needed to stop Lucy. Which I helped do.”
His fingers stop working my muscles, and I glance over as he pales. “Lucy? Why do I know that name?”
My chest tightens painfully. “Because she killed you.”
His expression darkens moments before he nods. “I remember that.”
I know it’s all in my head—that this isn’t really him and isn’t truly happening—but his emotion-stricken voice still hurts my heart. I reach over and grip his knee. “I’m so sorry, Mal.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was my fault.”
