Page 25 of Shadows of Nightshade
Yet.
Although, I was tempted.
But there was one more matter—besides Finn—to discuss. “Wait.”
Damen paused, glancing down at me.
“You laughed at me.” I pointed at him. “I’m not here for your amusement, you know.”
His brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
Darn him for looking so befuddled. It was too adorable. “I know your type,” I said. “You’re a psychologist. I’m not some lab rat for you to make fun of.”
Damen tilted his head to the left. “Do you always jump to wild conclusions?”
I gasped, offended. “Of course not! It’s been proven that my conclusions are very logical.”
“Really?” he frowned, and my response seemed to have displeased him even more. “First of all, my focus is forensic psychology and criminal profiling. I’m not a counselor.” His tone was serious and slow, as if he truly wanted me to understand his words.
“And secondly,” he continued, “Despite what you think, we were never laughing atyou. We were laughing at the absurdity of the situation, which was something of Finn’s own making. Although I have to admit, I’m not entirely sure why. That’s something I’m trying to figure out.”
He grabbed my hand, and my pulse skipped. “You, on the other hand,” he said. “You’re completely perfect.”
This time,I was sitting in Damen’s house under much different circumstances. Even though I’d basically been forced to come, which in any other situation could have caused me to panic, something about his self-assured, positive demeanor made it hard to stay uncomfortable.
I watched him, the more relaxed atmosphere allowing me to take in the environment a bit more today, as he fussed with the fireplace. It was difficult to contain my questions. Why, for example, had he meticulously restored the interior of his home while leaving the outside of the property and grounds unattended? It had to be on purpose, especially considering the surrounding forest.
If I didn’t know any better, it almost was like he was trying to keep visitors away.
Should I ask? I really did need to know—otherwise, I wouldstart drawing my own conclusions. And that, sometimes, wasn’t the best.
“Damen?” I looked around the room, wondering how to word this politely. “I was admiring your décor—what was the theme? It’s rather… gothic.”
A haunted house.
Yet, somehow, very elegant.
The fireplace was finally blazing, and the chill receded. I’d caught him just as he moved to sit in the same seat he’d had yesterday, and he shot me a perplexed look before he answered. “What do you mean?”
Okay, so maybe this wasn’t strange to him. Maybe he didn’t care about design. Perhaps this was hisnormal—which led to a different line of questions.
It was obvious, on some level, that Damen and his friends were a little bit different. Finn had rarely spoken of him, plus there was his behavior toward me—it was almost as if he was personally offended that I refused to worship the ground he walked on.
Why would such an elegant, egotistical man remain hidden in grandiose riches amongst crumbling ruins?
I contemplated this for a moment. It was still light outside, but was it possible that he was a vampire?
I’d seen stranger things.
“Stop looking at me like that.” Damen interrupted my thoughts. “I’m just a regular person.”
My mouth fell open, and I pressed my hand to my chest. How had he known what I was thinking?
“Your face is extremely expressive.” Damen leaned over the coffee table.
“You shouldn’t analyze people!” I said, indigent.
“Like you aren’t?” he asked, but then continued with a smugsmirk that made me want to punch him. “Besides, I’m not analyzing you. I’m stating a fact. You’re passive at first glance, but your eyes tell a different story. You have a vivid, fun imagination. In fact…” The humor faded from his expression as his tone turned wistful. “You remind me of someone.”
