Page 11 of The Devil's Waltz

Camille tears off another piece of her croissant, popping it into her mouth and chewing for a moment. “Yeah.” Her tone is light. Optimistic. “The opportunities are overwhelming but exciting.” She glances around briefly, lowering her voice. “There was a time when I thought my life would be owned by the hunters. I don’t think you can fully appreciate freedom until it’s taken away from you.”

I nod, understanding more than she can know. “You’d never consider going back?”

“Never.”

I don’t push it. The adamant tone of her voice is quite telling, and the last thing I want to do is have her pull back this early.

“How far are you into your degree?” she asks.

I chuckle. “Is that your way of trying to determine how old I am?”

Camille shrugs, and I find myself enjoying how at ease she appears. Any nerves from the start of our conversation have vanished. “Maybe. And the answer is?”

“Thirty-seven.”

She shoots me a dry look, her eyes narrowed slightly. “Funny.”

Grinning at her, I say, “I’m twenty-five and in my third year.” I take another drink of my Americano, waiting for her to share information I already know—that she’s twenty-two and in her second year.

Instead, she nods, fidgeting with the delicate gold chain around her neck. “Have you been at UW since freshman year?”

I shake my head, curious why she wants to focus on me. “I transferred this year.”

“Oh? Where were you before?”

“I studied abroad for a year in London. A friend of mine lived there and convinced me to stay with him.”

“Wow, that sounds like a really cool opportunity.” Curiosity glimmers in her eyes as she hangs onto my every word.

“It was. I’d like to go back one day and see more of the UK as well.”

“Did you grow up in Seattle?” she asks, taking another sip of her latte.

The back of my neck tingles, and I reach to scratch it, wetting my lips before I offer the answer I’d prepared in case it came up. “No. I spent most of my life in Michigan. Started college there, then moved to the UK, and now I’m here.” Before she can ask anything else, I put the question back on her. “How about you?”

Camille nods, leaning toward me slightly.

I’m not sure she even realizes she’s doing it.

“Seattle born and raised,” she says. “The goal is to move away once I finish my degree.”

My brows lift as I rest my arm along the back of the couch. “Any idea where you’ll go?”

She purses her lips in thought. “I think I’ve narrowed it down to Chicago or Denver.”

I chuckle. “You don’t want to escape the cold weather?”

“Are you kidding? Fall is my favorite season. Give me sweater weather all year, and I’d be the happiest person on earth.”

“To each their own,” I offer lightly. “I prefer the warmer months.”

She smiles, then asks, “Do you think you’ll stay here after you graduate next year?”

I shrug. “Not sure yet.”

Camille lowers her gaze. “I guess you have to go wherever the organization needs you, right?”

“To some extent, yes, but the more experience you have, the more sway you have with where you’re posted.”

---