“I mean, no.” She backed into the water. Even if it was still cold and unforgiving—it was farther away from wherever it was that he wanted to take her. “Are you really going to fuck around in my head and erase my memories without my permission?”
“It’s for your own good. I promise.”
“Just the tip, right? Do you know how many times I’ve heard that one before?” She took a strong backstroke into the pool, farther away from him, and it was a shame he was being an asshole right now because he looked like a fucking Greek god. “No. I say no. I’ll leave here—you’ll definitely pay me—and I’ll go home, and I’ll never say another word about any of this to anyone. Your secret will be safe with me. But you’re not messing with my mind.” She was out where she’d begun now, where she could only barely touch the ground, sweeping her arms beside her to boost herself up.
He stared at her—through her, almost—like he was communing with something inside himself. “You won’t even remember,” he finally said.
She stopped swimming and let herself sink, so the water brushed beneath her chin. He’d saved her life. He was a good person—dragon, whatever it was that he was—he had to be. So, she played her only card: “I may not remember it, but you will.”
Either he would come out and swim after her and grab her…or…. She watched his face, trying to read him, wondering if she could really trust him even if he agreed not to erase her memories.
Damian stood halfway in the water and watched her swim away. She had to know there was no way she could win a fight between them, and yet she wouldn’t back down. Could he really go out there and drag her to shore, take her through his house screaming, and throw her in the room with the Forgetting Fire—even if it was for her own good?
He remembered the other side of his mother’s history—a woman only a shell of herself—forced to forget parts of her past “for her own good” too many times.
“Fine,” he said quietly. Her eyes widened, and she didn’t move, not quite believing him.
“Promise it.”
“My word is my word. You can take it or not,” he said and turned to finish striding back to shore.
He heard her follow him, splashing in behind. He didn’t bother to dry off—only yanked clothing out of his closet roughly. She caught up with him when he was half-dressed. Grimalkin had put a fresh replica of all her original clothing on his bed. He picked it up and tossed it to her the second she reached the door. She caught it, and he turned his back on her again.
“Interesting décor. You like to look at yourself a lot?”
Damian glanced up and saw himself in twenty different reflections. “Stop asking questions,” he said, tucking in his shirt.
She was still afraid of him—he could tell by the way she skulked around the edges of the room, staying out of arm’s reach, trying to find someplace to change where she wouldn’t be reflected. Thank God all of the mirrors were closed right now. What would happen if his stepmother was looking through? She’d never let him live this down.
Or, she’d come here and kill Andi herself.
He ground his teeth together in frustration and looked back at her. “I’ll be waiting outside. And if you touch anything in here, I can no longer guarantee your safety.”
She nodded. Her long, wet hair had soaked through her shirt, clearly showing the nipples he’d seen earlier as if to torture him. “Understood.”
He growled again, resisted the urge to pick things up and throw them, and went into the hallway, slamming the door behind himself.
You should never have told her, his dragon rumbled.
I’m different than you. And that’s why I’m in charge.
For now. Now that there was no sex or violence in the offing, he felt his dragon’s presence subside.
“Grimalkin meowed in this direction,” Austin said, rising up the far stair and looking around. “Where’s the girl?”
“Forthcoming,” Damian said.
“As in, not unconscious?” Austin’s head tilted like a particularly thoughtful hound. “Wait…what?”
“She’s still her.” For better or worse. Austin would find out momentarily, better to confess. He watched the other man smell the air. Damn him and his werewolf nose.
“And…you didn’t sleep with her?”
“No.”
Austin worked his jaw several times before speaking again. “I’m just having a hard time figuring out how this happened.”
“I’ll save you time. She’s her own person, and I am unconscionably unlaid.” Damian ran a hand back through his wet hair. “Do you mind taking her home? It’s been a rather long night. Or…maybe Mills?” His secretary wouldn’t be happy as a chaperone, but she would be a whole lot less threatening than Austin to the girl after this morning. “And how is your brother? Did he make it through the night all right?” He didn’t need rest so much as he just needed to be away from Andi. The faster he could throw himself back into his work, the faster he could push everything that happened tonight into the past. He knew Jamison had gotten good data off of their last gate, so at least Zach’s injury hadn’t been for nothing. And if they could just predict the next one’s arrival and seal it before it opened, none of his people would get hurt again.
“Mills isn’t up yet.” Austin eyed him warily again. “And Zach’s fine…but are you?”
Andi’s arrival interrupted any response. She stepped out into the hallway tentatively, fully dressed down to her coat, which was zippered and buckled up to her neck. It didn’t matter though, parts of him had already memorized how she looked, she could never truly hide from him again. Austin looked between them and made a shoving gesture. “We could still—"
Andi caught Austin’s meaning and stepped quickly behind Damian.
“He’s taking you home,” Damian said, sidestepping to reveal her.
“Am I going to be safe with him? He’s not going to try to make me forget, is he?” she asked him, without taking her eyes off of Austin.
“You’ll be as safe as you are with any of my men.”
“After last night, that’s not comforting.”
Damian closed his eyes. He didn’t have time for this. It had caught him off guard how hard the human half of him experienced the strange shining moment of hope he’d had with her earlier—and how hard it was to extinguish now, crushing it back into his dark heart like a spent cigarette. “Look, I could’ve just picked you up, thrown you into the room, and closed the door.”
“But you didn’t because you’re not an asshole.”
He whirled on her. “You don’t really know what I am.” He grabbed her shoulders with both hands, turned, and propelled her toward Austin. “Go! Now! And never speak of this again!”
He watched her open her mouth—and he wasn’t sure if she would fight or agree—when a distant alarm started beeping, somehow stopping her. Concern flashed across both her and Austin’s faces. They looked at each other as the sound continued, found confirmation in one another’s expression, and both started racing downstairs.