Page 58 of Things We Left Behind
I had.
Those inky lashes against bronze skin. The slow and steady cycle of breaths that made his chest rise and fall. But even sleep couldn’t steal the tension from that marble jaw.
I hated that I had those memories in my head waiting to sneak up and punch me in the feels. Guilt. Fear. Fiery, righteous anger.
“Vampires don’t need sleep,” I said. “Which way is the restroom?”
The bathroom was like the rest of the office, sedately fabulous and stupidly luxurious. The backlit granite vanities held baskets of high-end hand lotions, glasses cleaner, and tidy selections of feminine products.
There was even a makeup mirror and counter built into an alcove.
I dampened a towel so soft it had to be cashmere and held it to my cheeks.
The past few weeks had made me question everything I’d been so sure of. Things I believed in like they were immutable laws of nature.
I could always count on my parents.
There was no rush to start my own family.
Lucian Rollins was a horrible troll of a human being.
Now I felt…lost. Like I had somehow stepped into an alternate dimension where up was down and down was purple. I couldn’t handle any more change at the moment.
I patted my face dry. Then, because the supplies were there, I cleaned my glasses.
“This is all just part of the grieving process,” I told my reflection. “You don’t really care if Lucian is human or not. Your brain is just trying to find something else to obsess over. Things will get better. Eventually. Probably.”
Half-assed pep talk complete, I exited the restroom and ran smack into a hot, hard chest.
My tote hit the floor with a thump as big, warm hands steadied me.
I knew who it was without looking at his face. I knew it from the electrifying current that streaked through my body.
“Is looking where you’re going too much to ask from you?” Lucian said gruffly.
“You’re the one plowing past the ladies’ restroom at a hundred miles an hour,” I pointed out, giving him a shove. He didn’t budge, and that irritated me.
I was the one who conceded and took a step backward. I reached down for the straps of my bag, but he got there first.
“Jesus, what are you carrying in here? A dismembered body?”
“Why do men always feel the need to comment on the weight and contents of a woman’s purse?” I asked, lunging for the straps.
He held the bag out of my reach. “Curiosity. We can only carry what fits in a wallet or a briefcase. This feels like an entire set of encyclopedias.”
“If you must know, they’re Dad’s files. I found them this morning and was going to give them to Lina to give to you.”
“You were going to give them to Lina,” he repeated, his voice dangerously calm.
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“Rather than me.”
Something prickled at the back of my neck. Danger. Beware. Proceed with caution.
I ignored the warning. “Yep.”
“Why?”
