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Fumbling for the naked bulb hanging from the center of the structure, I set the place aglow to show him: a few rat-chewed boxes lined the walls, a pile of rusted tools, and a stack of camping gear.
He snickered again. “What is this?”
“You’ll stay here tonight,” I informed him bluntly. “Until I can figure out what else to do with you.”
He sputtered, the amusement dying from his eyes.
“What?” he snorted. “No way. I told you, I had a room at that bar place.”
Grimacing, I faced him. “You’re not listening,” I growled. “No one can know you’re here, Elijah.”
He blinked. “Why not?”
I faltered, unsure of how much to explain, how much I really could explain. I didn’t even know where to start.
Pursing my lips, I stared at him, willing him to begin, to tell me what he knew, why he had come, but he just returned my gaze with an insolence that I recognized. Oh, that damn stubbornness.
“You need to work with me, Elijah,” I told him, mustering as much patience as I could under the circumstances. “If you really can’t remember your life here, at least tell me how you came to be here. Tell me the last thing you do remember about… well, about who you were before.”
He folded his arms across that broad chest, the ripple of his chest apparent under the glow of his mate arch, and I wanted to cry. He clung to his defiance even now.
“Why don’t we go in your house and talk about it?” he said.
“No. You’ll stay here, out of sight.” My tone was firm, leaving no room for argument, but it didn’t sit well with Elijah.
“This place doesn’t even have plumbing. Where am I supposed to piss?” he growled.
“You can come to the house if you need to use the bathroom, but it’s important that you keep a low profile.”
He didn’t seem to comprehend the situation at all, my initial skepticism fading. The man had come back into town completely blind.
Orson will put him down at the first opportunity if he gets wind of Elijah’s amnesia. Then again, if Elijah didn’t have memory loss, it would be the other way around. And I’m caught right up in the crosshairs. This is crazy!
“You might as well get me a bucket if you’re going to keep me sleeping on the floor like a prisoner,” he barked.
I gawked at him. “You have bigger things to worry about than your bladder,” I snapped back.
To my chagrin, he stepped closer, again raising his hand to touch my face, losing the irritation.
“Are you worried about staying in close quarters with me?” he teased. “Is that what this is? You can feel this between us, can’t you? I felt it even before I saw you. I can’t explain it, but there’s this attraction…”
He smiled, brushing his fingertips over my cheek, and the sensation flooded me with such frustration, tears blinded my eyes. Before I could contain myself, my hand flew out to slap his too-handsome face, reeling him backward.
“Damn you, Elijah Webb!” I howled, finally allowing the tears to flow down my cheek. “Fuck you for not remembering! How could you forget? You’ve been alive! You absolute bastard!”
He fell back, his hand rising to his own cheek as he stared up at me, startled. Light illuminated his fiery, verdant eyes. Instantly, I wished I could retract my actions, and I parted my lips to form an apology, but no words came out. He deserved my anger, even if he didn’t remember. I’d been holding onto it for far too long.
“I…” I disjointed, looking down, but Elijah cut me off.
“Abby…” he rasped, slowly rising to his full height. “Oh, gods…”
My head jerked up to look at him warily, prepared for retaliation, but what I read on his face was not vengeance.
“Abby,” he said again, his voice much clearer now. “I… I remember. I remember!”
Chapter11
Elijah
