Eric shifted uncomfortably, releasing her. He didn’t want the moment to end, but that question reminded him that this was just a rouse. There was nothing that could happen here. There was no way he could love her. She’d pin-pointed something that made him squirm with regret. Eric lay back in the bed, folded his hands behind his head, and looked at the light. Ivy asked him that once, and he didn’t answer.
His eyes traced the colored beams, watching the light with longing. Before he knew it, he was speaking, saying things he never thought he’d say, “It’s the way it is. The light. It flows and never stops. It never changes, never ends—it can be beautiful and devastating.” His voice faded, becoming softer and softer as he spoke. He seemed to forget Natalia was there until she moved. Her long dark hair fell in waves over her shoulders. The make-up that covered her perfect skin was washed away last night. He’d been careful not to wake her, but he couldn’t stand to see her looking like that. She wasn’t some slut to him… she was more. His stomach twisted as she looked at him, seeing things that were long gone. He was a ghost of who he was. Eric could feel his mind slipping away from him on a daily basis. Soon there would be nothing left but bloodlust and rage.
“Like you,” her voice was soft, gentle. “Eric, there’s so much more than that. I don’t know why you can’t see it.” She sure as hell could. It was why she didn’t kill him. It was the reason she doubted him. These rare occasions made her pause.
He laughed, but there was no joy in it. “Natalia, how can you say things like that? How can you pretend to see any good in me when I’ve done such…”
She cut him off, “I’m not pretending. It’s there, hanging on by a thread.”
His golden gaze turned toward her, “You don’t know what you’re looking at. What you’re seeing. I’m the same man who killed two people last night. I’m the same man who was at the brothel to find another Jocelyn to slaughter and ease my pain. Natalia, there is no thread. It’s gone. All of me… what I was, it’s gone.” His voice was soft, remorseful.
There was no arguing with him. She knew he wouldn’t believe her. And she couldn’t tell him what she was, that she knew he wasn’t that far gone yet, but if he didn’t change… The thought made her shudder. If he didn’t change, this part of him would be lost—gone—as if it never existed. The darkness, the evil twisting inside of Eric would overpower what little good he had left. No, words wouldn’t help him, not now. Swallowing hard, she felt her pulse racing higher and higher. Eric sensed the change in her, but thought it was because she believed him, not because she was contemplating something that warred within her mind. Without another thought she leaned down and gently brushed her lips against his. Eric’s mouth was soft, his lips were smooth and perfect. She wanted to deepen the kiss and taste him, feel him, but she knew better. Her lips lingered for a moment, before she pulled away.
Eric didn’t know what she was doing, and before he figured it out, her lips were on his. He froze, feeling a surge of emotions flood his body, emotions that were good and pure. It stunned him, making him freeze in place. His eyes remained on her face, watching her long lashes as she kissed him. It wasn’t until she pulled away that she opened her eyes and gazed at him.
He began to sit up, but she held up her hand, “No. Eric, stay there. Stare at the light. It seems to be something you need.” Leaning back on his elbows he watched her, surprised again. Her fingers plucked the front of the shirt she was wearing. She blushed slightly and looked down, “Is there somewhere I can change?” She knew Eric saw her naked, and for some reason it bothered her even though it shouldn’t, not if she worked at a brothel, but her cheeks burned. She couldn’t suppress it, couldn’t hide it. When did things change? Was it last night? Or did it happen ages ago and she never noticed? Assuming he was her mother’s assassin all this time, well, she thought that was the reason why she stayed. But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe there was something more.
He nodded and told her where to find extra clothes. There was running water down the hall. She didn’t ask how he did it, but Natalia knew he was the reason why there was running water and a shower in a pile of rubble. There was no one like Eric.
CHAPTER TWELVE
When Natalia dried off she found Eric perched on the stone again. This action confused her. It was times like this that made her hesitate. What if she was wrong about him? The only way she could know for sure was if she found that legendary book—the Book of Days. The angels said their eldest warrior created a book, but that it burned with him when he fell. From what Natalia had seen, stories like that held a thread of truth. She’d linked the pieces together and followed a trail that led directly to Eric, though she wasn’t sure why. It didn’t matter. The book was real and it would reveal everything, if she could get her hands on it. But he’d hidden the damn thing and it was going on three years and she couldn’t find it. Hell, she’d never even seen it. Maybe he wasn’t the man she thought he was. Maybe he was just some screwed up solider who defected during the war. He sure acted like it at times. Eric made her fear for her life, or at least he wanted her to. And it didn’t matter how hard she tried to fear him, she couldn’t. It wasn’t like that with him and her. It never was.
Natalia crossed the room. A carpet surrounded the bed, but rubble littered the rest of the floor. It seemed to be the way Eric liked it. It was as if his bed was in the middle of a cave crafted by God himself. That’s what she thought the window was to him, it was something that altered the light and made it good. The longing on his face made her stomach churn. Why would he want to be different? After all this time, what would change his mind?
Eric looked over at her and she offered a weak smile. Her wet hair was pulled into a knot and laying at the base of her neck. She wore another of Eric’s shirts and a pair of shorts. They fit her and she wondered why he had them, but didn’t ask. “Thanks.”