CHAPTER TEN || ELI
Iwas going crazy. That was the only explanation that made any sense. Nicolas had no heartbeat. And he could move blindingly fast. He wasn’t human.
But that was impossible.
Wasn’t it?
It hadn’t stopped me from staying until morning, though.
Nicolas had looked so peaceful that I hadn’t wanted to wake him. Even though he was a madman who had purchased the house directly next door to me and had openly, shamelessly admitted to following me. Even though he wasn’t human.
He hadn’t breathed. And he had no pulse at all. No heartbeat.
Yes, I had to be going insane. There was no other explanation for it. Was there?
Work ended up being another long, mercilessly grueling shift.
About an hour before I was supposed to get off, paramedics brought in four patients, all of them from a multi-car crash on the freeway.
Two had been banged up pretty badly but were going to heal up just fine.
The other two were in bad shape. I spent the next four hours stabilizing them. I was grateful for the distraction.
Even though those vivid, too-bright blue eyes were never far from my memory.
Nor was the scent of him. Or the way he had fallen right to sleep the moment I pulled him close.
Nicolas was a study in contradictions—blithe and carefree, to the point where his sanity was under serious doubt.
Yet there was something else there, too: a tiny speck of vulnerability and tenderness that was more beguiling than it had any right to be.
It hinted at a man more complex and strange than anyone I had ever met.
And then there were the dreams.
I had dreamed of him again last night. It was different this time.
I had been in a wooden room lit by lanterns, and it smelled strongly of burning wax and leather.
I had been with an older man—someone I knew very well—who was painstakingly sewing a black leather boot by hand.
Then the door opened and daylight swept over the room, causing me to blink rapidly.
And then he had been standing there, dressed in white hose and a brilliant white tunic embroidered with emerald-green thread. He stood in the doorway for just an instant, his hair illuminated in hundreds of shades of gold by the sun.
Nicolas.
My heart beat faster in my chest at the sight of him. My hand tightened around a rag I was holding, soaked in oil. And then he flashed me a smile, pointed at his feet, and spoke in rapid-fire French that I somehow had no trouble interpreting: My boots need repair. Can you help?
I stared at him blankly, uncertain how a creature as lovely as Nicolas could have entered our cramped little shop.
But before I could form words, the older man I was with shot me a strange look from the other end of the counter, as though he’d caught my reaction.
Then he turned back to Nicolas with a beaming smile and replied in French: Of course, monsieur. We would be delighted to help you.
I had woken up with the scent of leather, wax, and oil still clinging to me. It was startling to find myself in bed, in a place with running water and electricity—but with Nicolas still beside me.
This time, I had woken without any pain in my chest at all.
The dream was strange. I knew exactly one phrase in French, courtesy of Moulin Rouge.
I certainly didn’t know the language well enough for it to have seeped into my dreams. Nor did it make any sense why my subconscious kept associating Nicolas with a past I had to have invented.
But it hadn’t felt like a dream. It felt like a memory—a vividly intense one.
Nicolas hadn’t stirred when I left. His heart wasn’t beating, and he wasn’t breathing. But his eyelids fluttered anyway, as though he was in the midst of a dream.
Impossible.
The smart thing to do was to stay as far away from him as possible. But I wasn’t sure I was capable of doing that. I didn’t want to do that.
Yeah, I was in trouble.
Big time.
When I finally wrapped up—almost sixteen hours after arriving to work—I felt exhausted to the point where I could barely stand. But everyone was stable, and my relief had been on shift for hours.
I changed into my street clothes in the locker room and made my way to the massive concrete garage where I’d parked my car. It was nearly seven in the morning.
I stifled a yawn as I stepped out of the elevator.
A pair of female nurses passed me, both holding steaming cups of coffee. The older one nodded as she went by, and I returned it, even though I didn’t recognize her.
When I looked up, I saw Nicolas leaning against my car, his arms crossed over his chest. Waiting for me.
Perhaps it should have been alarming. If it had been anyone else, it might have been. But I couldn’t help the deep feeling of relief that spread through me.
“It’s not safe for you to get behind a wheel right now,” Nicolas said as I approached, eyeing me with disapproval. I must have looked as exhausted as I felt. He said it like he expected me to argue. “I’m driving you home, Doctor De La Cruz.”
* * *
“My life isn’t that exciting,” I protested ten minutes later, growing exasperated with him. He had been peppering me with questions about my day, one after another. “Patients come in, and I stabilize them. Rinse, repeat.”
“Nonsense, Dr. De La Cruz,” Nicolas said, accelerating and merging left into the fast lane.
The August sun was already overhead, making everything too bright.
I had already flipped down my visor but wished I had a pair of sunglasses.
Nicolas shot me an irritated look. “You work in the emergency room of a hospital in Los Angeles. You’re probably filled to the brim with interesting stories.
From what you’ve told me, there are two people who now owe their lives to you.
They would have perished last night, if not for your intervention. ”
His lips twitched, as though that were somehow funny.
“Why does that amuse you?” I demanded, stifling a yawn against the back of my hand.
“Who said it was?”
“You’re smiling.”
“Well, I’m sitting next to a bona fide hero,” he said smoothly. “And your modesty, while tasteful, is quite out of fashion. It’s amusing to watch you try to convince me you’re not exceptional.”
I grimaced. “Nicolas—”
“Cole,” he corrected, keeping his eyes on the road.
I sighed and shot him a glare. “You showed up at the bar, and then my home, and now my work—twice…”
“Yes.”
“And you bought the house next to me—”
“Also true.”
“—Look, what I’m saying is that you can’t keep showing up in my life without warning.”
“Sure, I can.” His eyebrows drew together, and he somehow managed to give me side-eye while changing lanes abruptly, without getting us both killed.
“In fact, I plan to make a habit of it. Someone has to make sure you don’t cause a car accident attempting to drive yourself home after a shift like the one you just worked.
It’s a matter of public safety at this point. ”
I drew in a deep breath and then let it out again, trying to calm myself.
What was I doing, attempting to antagonize him? He had no heartbeat. He could move astonishingly fast. He didn’t need to breathe.
He wasn’t human.
Worse: I didn’t feel even a trace of fear around him. I kept waiting to—for the lizard part of my brain to wake up and tell me I was sitting next to something that shouldn’t, couldn’t possibly exist.
But it never did.
Oddly enough, with him beside me, I felt safe. Despite the fact that he was weaving through LA traffic at least twenty miles over the speed limit—and the fact that he had no pulse.
“Tell me something true about you,” I said finally. “Anything. Please.”
Nicolas hesitated.
For a moment, I thought I wasn’t going to get a single word out of him.
But then he sighed. “I’m someone who cares enough about your safety to pick you up after a sixteen-hour shift,” he said, sounding hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure he was being honest with either of us.
After a pause, he added, “I know my behavior must seem… odd.”
“Odd is one word for it.”
“You got into a car with me. For a second time,” he pointed out. “Surely you’ve decided I’m not all bad.”
“It’s my car,” I replied hotly. “And I was worried you might steal my keys and club me over the head or something to get me into it. Saying yes was easier.”
Plus, I was reasonably sure he didn’t intend to murder me. Buying the house right next to me would have been a strange thing for a serial killer to do. Whatever else Nicolas was, he wasn’t directly harmful.
He was just… kind of manic. And deeply strange.
Because he wasn’t human. I knew I should have broached the topic—demanded an explanation. Or asked him point-blank: What are you?
The words were on the tip of my tongue. I just couldn’t bring myself to say them. What if they banished him for good? Or what if I was wrong, and I really was going insane?
His lips twitched. “I wouldn’t have clubbed you over the head. Instead, I’d have appealed to your sense of logic. I can be quite persuasive, you know.”
“Logic left the building a while back,” I muttered under my breath.
Nicolas snorted, shaking his head.
“Do you have tomorrow off?” he asked, changing lanes to the right abruptly, setting off a cacophony of honking behind us.
My heart skipped a beat, and I lunged for the oh-shit handle above my door, clinging to it one-handed like a lifeline.
I sucked in a shaky breath, then let it out.
With forced calmness—sounding nothing like myself—I said, “The turn signal is there for a reason. And you might be going a little fast for seven a.m. rush hour.”
Nicolas immediately eased off the gas, slowing to eighty.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “The question still stands.”
“I have tomorrow off. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
He shrugged, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. “Do you have plans?”
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Nothing with the sister?”
I snorted. Sam and I certainly weren’t going to be doing any brother-sister bonding. The only bonding she was likely to do was with a bottle—or box—of cheap wine. We might watch a movie together after dinner, but it was unlikely. She’d probably be too far gone by then.
I shook my head.
Nicolas took his eyes off the road for several long seconds and stared at me. His expression darkened with concern at whatever he saw on my face—
which was probably terror.
“No,” I said, pointing out the windshield at the semi we were about to plow into.
He immediately slowed the car, glanced out the windshield, then sighed.
“Also, please keep your eyes on the road. You’re driving a two-ton weapon at eighty miles an hour. You could hurt someone.”
“I could, couldn’t I?” he remarked, smiling again. But he dutifully returned his eyes to the road as I’d asked. Then, without warning, he added, “Let’s go on a date.”
I stared at him in silence for several long moments, trying to process his suggestion. A date? As in—what? Dinner and a movie? The idea of Nicolas in an Olive Garden or something was ridiculous.
My silence went on long enough that he glanced over again, as though to make sure I was still there.
“A date?” I managed at last.
“Sure,” Nicolas said, flipping on the turn signal this time. He even checked the mirror—something I hadn’t seen him do once since he’d gotten into the driver’s seat. He merged smoothly to the right.
“Thanks for looking,” I said softly before I could stop myself. “You might be okay in a car wreck, but I wouldn’t be.”
He flashed me a worried look. I had no trouble interpreting it: What on earth was that supposed to mean?
I fought the urge to smile. Apparently, he didn’t care for someone who acted cryptic and borderline insane either. I yawned instead.
“You’re welcome,” Nicolas replied dully at last.
“What’s your idea of a date?” I asked, feeling wary. “I feel like I need to know specifics.”
He hesitated for a long moment, and it was abruptly clear he hadn’t considered what would happen if I said yes—that he would actually have to plan one.
“Err… Disneyland.”
I stared at him in total disbelief. “Disneyland?”
It was the last thing I would have expected him to say. I didn’t know what I had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that.
“It’s the happiest place on Earth,” Nicolas said, nodding to himself. “You could use some cheering up.”
A sudden lump rose in my throat. He wasn’t wrong. I certainly could use some cheering up. I just—had he noticed? Was it that obvious I was unhappy?
“I wouldn’t mind seeing you smile,” he added seriously. “I’m told I can’t just tell you to smile, either. That’s a thing, apparently. According to the internet. So, I’ll have to settle for making sure it happens on its own.”
What was even happening right now?
And why couldn’t I bring myself to want to stay away from him?
He wasn’t human—though maybe I had imagined that, after all? He seemed pretty damn human as his hands tightened slightly on the wheel and he flashed me an anxious look, waiting for my reply.
Either way, he was probably mentally unbalanced, right?
And right then, I didn’t care. Yes, I had the absolute worst taste in men.
Even so, I still found myself saying, “Yeah. Disneyland sounds great.”
Nicolas beamed at me, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges. Seeing it did weird, stuttery things to my heart. “Excellent choice, Doctor! I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”