Chapter Eight
Edmund watched Juliette leave at a clipped pace, clearly upset by the way he had handled himself. A few librarians were still present; their soft murmurs and the faint thud of books being returned to shelves were the only other noises.
He hadn’t meant to be abrupt. When Harold had introduced him to Isla, Andrew, and then Juliette, Edmund’s Aetheric emotions had hit him like incoming artillery.
The impact had been instant and overwhelming; he’d barely managed to keep his expression neutral while his pulse pounded like the distant rhythm of a march.
It was as if his emotional resonance had recognized her.
That petite librarian was more dangerous than a stray grenade.
After leaving the war in the hands of others, after too many nights staring down at loss, he’d made himself a promise: Never again.
You couldn’t lose people if you never let them in.
And no bright-eyed, infuriatingly warm librarian was going to breach those defenses.
He didn’t know her, and he intended to keep it that way.
Still, he hadn’t meant to be so curt. It had been a knee-jerk reaction—a trained response to danger, though this kind wore a dress and smelled faintly of lavender.
“I am telling you right now, Detective Whitmore, Juliette needs to be taken off your suspect list this instant,” Isla demanded, hands on her hips.
Oh, brilliant. He’d managed to upset the friend.
“I’m just following protocol, Miss Cole. All Ignis Aetherians will be interviewed. If she’s innocent, she has nothing to worry about.”
Isla huffed, her indignation punctuated by Juliette’s theatrical departure as she slammed the door behind her.
Good. They were both angry with him. That was the way it had to be. Distance meant safety.
Then why, in the name of every regiment he’d ever served with, did his chest ache at the thought of a stranger hating him?
A moment later, the door creaked open again and Juliette’s head popped back through the gap.
“Oh! Terribly sorry about that,” she said in a rush, cheeks pink. “That was meant to be a dramatic exit, not a rude one.”
Then, with a small sheepish smile, she disappeared again—so very adorable, Edmund thought, and entirely unaware of the effect she left in her wake.