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Mike nodded, and his fingers flexed against my upper arms when he held me as if he were to let me go, I would collapse to the floor. Maybe I would. I was still trying to comprehend everything I had seen. It had all happened so quickly, and I could barely process what was real and what wasn’t.
Those yellow eyes of Tate’s—those were real.
The speed Mike had moved with as he came to save me—was real.
Mike’s eyes shifting to yellow too.
Please, someone, tell me thatwasn’t real.
Mike didn’t say a word as Ilsa left, moved silently across the room to close the window, flicked the lock shut, and pulled the curtains closed. His hands remained gripping the fabric, his back to me as he stood for a moment, his shoulders shaking. With anger, fear, or tears, I couldn’t tell, and I was too numb to find out. So, I left him to his moment, taking the time to take stock of what I had seen. But the more I thought about it, the more the thoughts became blurred and jumbled in my mind.
Yellow eyes.
Inhuman speed.
Knife. Blood. Moonlight.
Tate.
When Mike finally moved toward the bed, he took my shoulders in his palms and stepped me back until my legs hit the edge of the mattress. I collapsed, slumping onto the bed as he guided me before he sat next to me. Once he started watching me, Mike didn’t take his eyes off me, and I could feel his stare drilling into the side of my face while he waited for me to look at him, speak, or do anything at all.
“Tell me it wasn’t real,” I finally whispered. Because all I needed now was something to cling to. Everything had happened in a matter of minutes, and yet it felt like days ago that Mike and I had been fucking on the mattress we now sat on. I may have well been sitting next to a stranger.
“Tate is—”
“No,” I cut him off, finally turning my head to meet his eyes, and I hated the pain I saw there because he didn’t have the right to feel pain right now. I was the one who felt like my world was about to be turned upside down. “Not Tate.” I frowned, gritting my teeth and trying to hold back the emotion. “You.” Tentatively, I lifted my hand and cupped my palm over Mike’s cheek. He was still a physical force to be reckoned with, but the way he tilted his head into my touch made him appear so small. I took my hand away. “Your eyes, I saw…”
What?What did I see?
“Yellow,” I finished lamely. I looked up to see Mike watching me. His lips parted as if he were about to answer and then stopped. “Tell me it wasn’t real, Mike, because Tate had the same eyes. Tell me he’s a monster, you’re real, and we’re real together against this… force.”
“I’m real,” he whispered, choking back everything he wasn’t saying. “But, I’m… not human.”
Not human.
“I can’t be here.” I stood to leave, and Mike grabbed my wrist, moving to pull me back onto the bed, but I resisted. “Let me go.”
“No.”
“Mike, let mego.”I yanked against his grip, and he stood, towering over me and snatching my other wrist in his hand.
“You’re not safe. You need to stay with me until Tate is no longer a danger.”
“And whose fucking fault isthat?”He flinched, and I didn’t have it in me to feel bad. The images of our bodies moving together was now at the forefront of my mind, and here he was calmly telling me he wasn’t…human.Mike was holding onto my hand and displayed no effort at all to contain my struggles. “What is Tate?” I demanded. “What areyou?”
His eyes were haunted as he watched me, and inside somewhere, there was a twinge of sympathy. I knew this man, didn’t I? At least, I thought I did. I wanted to save and protect him from whatever it was in his past that haunted him now. But this,thiswas too much.
“A demon.”
I stopped struggling because, surely, he had to be joking. Although the words sounded like they caused him physical pain, the warmth of him burned against my wrists, and I let my gaze trail over his naked body. This can’t be real—he looks toohuman.Part of me wanted to touch him, trace the lines of his hard chest, abs, and those incredible V-shaped muscles to tell myself he was human. I wanted to feel every divot of his pores, every scar, and every other imperfection. I needed to feel it all under my fingertips and then try to convince myself that this mancouldn’t possibly be a demon.
Because demons weren’t real.
This can’t be real.
MIKE
It wasn’t easy to convince Jacob that he needed to stay the night, and while I could have physically restrained him, I doubted that would help how he now felt toward me. I promised to sleep on the couch. Hell, I’d sleep on the fucking kitchen counter if he meant he would stay. I’d let him lock me in the closet and push a chair against the door if it meant he would try to get some sleep. I could hear him tossing and turning in the large bed, the silky sheets ruffling with every movement, and I wanted to ease his pain. But resisting going to him in the dark and brushing my fingers across his forehead and cheek was simply another test of my self-control.
