Her heartbeat began to accelerate, a feeling of certainty settling over her like a heavy blanket.
What she was contemplating was probably insane. The issues Luc had wouldn’t be solved easily or without pain, if at all. Staying with him would mean one hell of a commitment.
But she could do it. She was strong.
And fuck, he was worth it.
Eleanor put down her glass, wiping away the tears and getting to her feet.
There was just one thing she needed to get.
Luc threw the meager clothes he had into the kit bag that sat open on the bed. He didn’t need much more than that and his wallet.
You’re running away for the second time this evening, you fucking coward.
Too bad. Perhaps he was a coward, but that was better than the alternative. Losing his shit and hurting someone again, like he’d hurt Eleanor.
Christ, her terrified face and blood on her skin. His knife so close to her throat.
A shudder rippled through him, his hands shaking as he balled up a T-shirt and flung it at the bag.
He’d never had a flashback like that before, not once, but he knew why that was. Because he’d never had Eleanor before. She’d brought him back to life, warmed up the part of him that was numb, brought all those emotions he’d managed to bury back to the surface again.
And that couldn’t happen. He couldn’t have another flashback because, Christ, what if he hadn’t stopped? What if he’d killed that guy?
What if you’d killed her?
Cold sank down into his bones. A deathly cold.
He began to shake again. He needed to get out of here, get away from everyone until he’d managed to force all these fucking feelings down. Until he’d gotten himself back under control. Had found that detachment once more. Yeah, he hated feeling numb but at least that protected him and the people around him.
At least it would protect her.
Luc closed his eyes. He had to remember that cold, hold tightly to it with everything in him. Because if he hurt someone again, especially her, fuck, it would destroy him.
Better to leave. Better to go now, while he could. It didn’t matter where he went, as long as it wasn’t here.
Abruptly there came the sound of someone hammering on his front door.
What the fuck? Perhaps if he ignored it, whoever it was would go away.
He threw the rest of his stuff into the bag and scanned around his bedroom to see if he’d missed anything. Considering there wasn’t much there to start with, he didn’t think he had.
The hammering on his door didn’t let up.
Cursing, he strode down the hallway.
It could be her.
He stopped dead. No, it couldn’t be her. Why would she come after him? After he’d held a knife to her throat? After he’d told her what he was? She was an intelligent woman. She’d probably never want to see him again.
Pain looped around his heart, but he ignored it. He had to remember the cold. Stay detached.
“Luc! Open the door!”
Oh fuck. It was her. What the hell was she doing here? What the hell did she want? Didn’t she have any sense of self-preservation at all?
He began to turn away. If he didn’t answer it, she’d leave eventually.
“I know you’re in there, Luc!” she shouted. “I saw the lights in your window. If you don’t open the door, I’ll just stay here. All night if I have to.”
He shouldn’t open that door. He should walk away and leave her.
But something in him wouldn’t let him do it.
Cursing, he jerked it open and there she was, standing in the hallway with her hair loose, down her back, and dark circles around her eyes.
And a line of dried blood at her throat.
Fear and grief sank claws into him, sharp as blades. He tried to force it down, going for anger to frighten her off. “What the fuck are you doing here, Eleanor? You need to leave.”
“No,” she shot back, taking a couple of steps toward him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Are you stupid?” He blocked the door, drawing himself to his full height, wanting to intimidate her so she’d remember what he’d done to her. So she’d leave and save herself. “You’ve still got blood on you from where I cut you with my fucking knife, and now you’re coming back? What the hell do you want? Me to finish the job?”
Her chin lifted, not looking intimidated in the slightest. “You put the blood there, you can fucking clean it away for me.”
“What?”
She didn’t answer. With a move he wasn’t expecting, she suddenly ducked under his arm and stepped into his apartment.
He tried to make a grab for her, but she dodged him, already walking down the hallway toward his bedroom.
“Eleanor, for fuck’s sake!” He slammed the door and went after her, anger escaping his control and beginning to burn hot inside him. What the hell was she doing here? What did she hope to achieve? She couldn’t want him, so what was the point of her being here at all?