by Dena Christy
She turned away to go back to making her tea, but something about the door looming behind her wouldn’t let her go. She could not go to sleep unless she was positive there was nothing outside.
Elle looked around, to see if there was anything she could use as a weapon, just in case. Unfortunately, there was nothing even remotely dangerous in the backroom. Nothing that would intimidate a would be intruder.
The only thing close at hand was the broom leaning against the wall by the door.
Oh, this is real intimidating. She picked it up anyway. It would have to do. She hoped for a moment that if there was anything out there that it was nothing scarier than a rat. The broom would definitely scare a rat.
With the makeshift weapon firmly in hand she approached the back door and took a deep breath. How could she be sure she heard voices, anyway? Maybe the wind rattling the windows had woken her up from the strange dream. The dream had been so vivid that it could be what was making her so jumpy, making her think she’d heard voices that were probably not there. She should just put the broom away and go back to making her tea.
She hesitated for a moment. She would not go make tea or go back to bed. There was little chance she could fall asleep at this point. At least not until she knew for sure. There was nothing out there beyond the door, she was certain, but until she looked and confirmed it, she would not get another wink of sleep tonight.
With a trembling hand she reached for the deadbolt on the door. Now that she’d decided to look her heart was pounding again. The wood of the broom’s handle dug into the palm of her left hand.
“Jesus, Elle, when did you get to be such a mouse?” Her voice was a mutter, and she blew out a long slow breath as soon as her words faded away. She could do this. She was an independent woman, living on her own. It wasn’t her choice, but it hadn’t been Ian’s choice to leave her by herself either. With a shake of her head, she drove away thoughts of her late husband. “Stop stalling.”
A calm stole over her, and she relaxed her grip on the broom and laid it beside the door. It had been a stupid weapon anyway, and she would feel foolish holding it when she opened the door and discovered that there was nothing but the old dumpster out there.
With a flick of her hand she snapped the deadbolt, unlocking the door.
“Now or never.” For the sake of any sleep she might get tonight she needed to be sure, so she yanked open the door and was greeted by inky darkness. She’d forgotten how dark it was in the alley behind her shop. If anyone had been foolish to try to break in, they wouldn't have been able to find the door without some light.
Reaching to her left she flicked the switch that would turn on the light outside the door, fully expecting to see nothing but an empty alley and the dumpster. A shocked gasp tore from her throat when she saw there was more than just the dumpster behind her shop.
A large man slumped between the dumpster and the brick wall, and for a moment blood rushing through her veins caused a roaring sound in her ears. He looked exactly like the man she’d seen in her dream, but that was impossible.
He slowly turned his head, and she squeezed the doorknob as she swayed for a moment. It was him. The man from her dream. The same gray eyes she’d seen while she was asleep looked at her now. His eyes met her, and she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think.
“Help me.”
2
Relief poured through Gregor as soon as he heard the door open and saw the light come on. It was so bright it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the glare after spending what felt like an eternity in the dark. All he could see was the silhouetted figure of a woman in the doorway. Thank God it was a woman. He was certain the hunters pursuing him were a group of men, and there had been no sign that any females were among their number. With any luck, her discovery of him meant he would get out of this alley and out of sight. He was still vulnerable sitting here wounded, and if the men came back, the light would enable them to see exactly where he was. It would be best if he got out of the alley sooner rather than later.
"Help me." He did his best to make his voice gentle and quiet. There was no point in scaring her away before he persuaded her to let him inside her building.
"Are you hurt?" Her voice flowed over him and stirred the hairs on the back of his neck.
The soft, feminine tone with a slightly husky edge was like a warm hand stroking down his skin. He'd only ever experienced the same reaction to a woman's voice like this once in his life. For a second his breath halted in his lungs as he remembered her. But it couldn't be her. It was not possible, not after all this time.
"Can you speak?"
Sitting here staring at her would not accomplish what he needed. He searched his mind for something to say, but nothing would come. He could not see her properly, and for a moment he didn't want to. While she was just a silhouette and a voice, he could pretend that she was his Eleanor come back to him.
There was no chance she was the woman whose memory he still carried with him, even after centuries since he’d lost her. She couldn't be, it wasn’t possible. It was only the loss of blood and the fact she'd consumed his thoughts since he'd emerged from his stone slumber that he thought it was her.
"I find myself in a predicament. I mean you no harm. I need your help." He shifted back and slowly unfolded himself from his place beside the dumpster. There was a risk in standing at his full height, he was big in his human form. But if he couldn’t see her that well, she probably couldn't see him. Time was of the essence and if she saw that he was hurt and not interested in harming her, then soon he would be off the street.
Her slippered feet scuffled on the pavement as she came forward. The light caught her features, and the world froze around him as his focus zeroed in on her.
He swallowed past the tightness in his throat and could not speak. Not only was her voice the same, she had the same dark brown curls tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. The same deep brown eyes and the same sun kissed skin. It was all the same. It was his Eleanor, returned to him and for a moment the strength went out of his legs and he sagged against the wall.
How was it possible that she’d been returned to him? Had fate decided that he’d been punished enough? Was the answer to breaking his curse here in front of him? Was he finally going to get a second chance to do it right this time?
"Oh my goodness," she gasped as she leaped forward toward him.
A part of him feared it would be a trick of the light, that her resemblance to the woman he’d thought was his true mate would only be surface deep, that on closer inspection she would be a phantom caused by blood loss and poor lighting.
She came to a halt in front of him and tipped her head back to look up at him. Perhaps she realized for the first time that he was so much bigger than her, that she was alone in the alley with a stranger, but she halted her forward motion with widened eyes.
“Say something.” Her words came out in a shaky whisper, and he felt the pull of the intimacy of it.
The urge to pull her to him, to wrap his arms around her again was so strong that he had to press his wounded shoulder into the stone wall. The pain flashing through him jolted him out of the spell holding him. He wouldn't get the opportunity to hold her or do anything else with her if he stayed where he was. The danger of the hunter’s return still loomed over him, and more important it brought a risk to her.
“I promise, I’m not here to hurt you. If you would be kind enough to render me aid, I would appreciate it.” He used the same words on her now that he’d used when he’d first met her doppelgänger centuries ago. And like that time before, it lowered her defenses enough for her to venture forward a little more.
He shifted and her eyes darted to the wall beside him and she visibly swallowed.
“You’re bleeding. If I’d known, I would not have wasted so much time staring.” She gave a shaky laugh as she eased her arm around his waist. It was amusing to think she could support the weight of someone as large as him, but
he would not protest.
“You could not have known.” He glanced down at her as she cuddled up against him, and his voice came out gruffer than he intended. Christ, she even felt the same against him.
The past and present merged inside him, and he could only stand there, still leaning against the wall with her curvy body pressed against him. He slammed his eyes shut as he tried to compose himself. The last time he’d seen her, her body had been shattered at the bottom of a cliff in her bid to escape him. He didn’t know how it was possible, but she was here with him, whole and alive. His throat tightened for a second, and he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move or even think. All he could do was feel the weight of her body against him with a joy that made him light-headed.
“Does it hurt? Can you move?” She eased back a little, and he forced his eyes open to look down at her. “I should call for help.”
He cleared his throat as he forced himself to get a grip on his emotions. She would call someone, and that was the last thing he wanted. Now that she was here with him, he didn’t want to share her with anyone else in this moment. “Please, there is no need to call for help. I’m sure I can make it inside. I’m certain that the wound is not that bad.”
He eased away from the wall, and she rushed back to his side. Her arm slipped around his waist again and he could not stop a groan from escaping. She felt so good against him, so soft with curves in the places he liked best.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No, you could never do that.” He straightened up and rested his arm lightly around her shoulders. There had been enough time wasted with his staring and remembrances. The hunters stalking him would not care if this was a reunion of sorts.
They moved forward, and he allowed her to lead him. He could make it to the door unaided, his wound was not so grievous that he couldn’t move under his own power. But it had not escaped his notice she’d only become receptive to getting this close to him when she’d thought him weakened and vulnerable. More than anything he wanted to be inside with her where she would be safe from the danger he brought with him and where he could be alone with her. If he needed to act helpless, he was willing to do it if it accomplished his goal.
He shortened his stride, and they made it to the door. She ushered him inside and once the door closed behind them, some tension eased inside him. A glance around showed that they were in some sort of storeroom, and as she moved away from him he noticed that she was dressed as if she’d just come from her bed. The room they were standing in seemed smaller than it had been and it was like she realized it too.
As she looked up at him she drew her full bottom lip between her teeth. The pad of his thumb itched to run along the edge and pull her flesh away from her teeth. If he did that, he would bend his head toward her and pull her body close. He would take her mouth in a gentle kiss, and he would discover if she tasted the same.
He cleared his throat and took a step back. It was as if the magic weaving between them had dissipated for a moment. She gave a nervous laugh as she released her lower lip.
“I don’t know why I’m staring.” Her words were quiet, almost as if she was speaking more to herself than to him. “I don’t even know your name. I’m Elle.”
“Elle?”
“Actually, my name is Eleanor, but only my grandmother calls me that.” She smiled at him. “Everyone else calls me Elle.”
Even her name was the same. He didn’t know how it was possible. This could all be a dream, but if it was he hoped never to wake from it.
“I’m Gregor.” He searched her face for something, some flash of recognition that would tell him she remembered him too. There was nothing, not even a flicker in her eyes that said she knew him. It didn’t matter. What mattered now was that he had found her again and fate had given them a second chance.
Elle surreptitiously pinched the side of her thigh and the jolt of pain told her she wasn’t dreaming all this. The man standing in front of her, towering above her was real. He was also a replica of the man she’d come upon in the forest in her dream. She could be forgiven for thinking she still slept since it was unreal how much he’d looked like the man in her dream when he'd turned to her earlier from his spot crouched beside the dumpster and asked her for help.
Had the dream been a premonition? If it was why had she’d dreamed about him in a wooded area instead of in the alley behind the shop where she’d found him? Why had they both been wearing medieval type clothing in the dream when their meeting would take place tonight? There were questions jumbled in her head, too many to count about the events that had unfolded in her dream and what was happening now.
She didn’t know the answers to any of them, and now she was staring at him again without saying a word. He would think she was an idiot if she was going to carry on like this, looking at him as if she’d never seen another human being before.
If her staring was an issue, he didn’t seem to notice it. In fact, he was doing plenty of staring of his own. There was a hungry look in his smoke colored eyes when he looked at her and it sent a jolt into the pit of her stomach. God, those eyes looked so familiar but she was certain they’d never met, at least not while she was awake. She would have remembered meeting him before. A man as big as him was someone who would be hard to forget.
The way he looked made her want to step closer to him, to reach out and put her hand on his chest, just to see if it felt as hard as it looked. Would he let her? Did he find her as attractive as she found him?
“Is something wrong?” The deep rumble of his voice jolted her out of her thoughts. A flush heated her cheeks, and she cleared her throat.
“No, nothing. Please come this way and I’ll look at your wound.” She turned away, and as soon as she wasn’t looking directly at him she felt herself returning to normal, the spell he cast over her broken at last. She led him out of the backroom of the shop, and into the lounge area where she did readings for her clients. A quick look around told her that the space would be inadequate for helping him, since any first aid supplies were not here, but upstairs in her apartment. Could she risk taking him up there? So far he’d been circumspect and other than looking at her like she was an attractive woman, he’d done nothing to show that he had any intention of harming her. “Are you certain you don’t want to see a doctor?”
“I’m sure that my wound is not worth the attention of a doctor. But if my presence here makes you uncomfortable, I shall leave you. You’ve been so kind to offer aid that I do not want to trouble you further if you’d rather I go.”
Well, that just made her feel terrible. He’d been nothing but circumspect, and she was shoving him out the door because she found him attractive and didn’t want to deal with it. There was a lock of dark hair falling forward onto his forehead and she had to curl her fingers into her palms to keep from brushing it away. That was her problem, not his and yet she wanted to send him on his way because what he was stirring up inside her was alarming her.
“Please don’t go. I have what I need upstairs in my apartment. It’s just this way.” She walked ahead of him. His shadow dwarfed hers, but instead of intimidating her, it oddly made her feel safe, as if his presence was protective. Perhaps that was why she was so willing to bring him up here. There must be some instinct inside her that told her he would not hurt her.
They came into her living room and she motioned for him to sit on her sofa. “I’ll get something to clean the wound. Why don’t you take your shirt off and I’ll be back in a moment.”
She walked down the hall a little faster than necessary, her head spinning as she walked into the bathroom and shut the door. She sagged against it and blew out a slow breath. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t been like this with a man since she and Ian had first met and she’d been in the giddy throes of attraction. She’d thought that part of her had died with her husband, but apparently finding a wounded stranger in a dark alley was all she needed for that part of herself to come roaring back to life.
“He’s j
ust a man. One who needs your help, so you better get a hold of yourself.” Straightening away from the door, she moved about the bathroom, collecting the first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink, and pulling out several wash cloths from one of the drawers.
She turned on the water and wet a cloth with warm water. She straightened her spine and looked at herself in the mirror. “You can do this. He’s just a man, the same as any other.”
With her resolve to ignore the attraction he stirred inside her firmly in place, she gathered everything up in her arms and opened the bathroom door. With each step closer to where he waited, the more confident she grew that she could do this without making a fool of herself. At the threshold of the living room she looked to where she left him, and her breath ripped from her lungs in a whoosh.
He’d taken her at her word and had removed his shirt and he sat waiting for her. He looked even bigger without the shirt, and his smooth skin flowed over the chiseled muscles of his torso. His shoulders were impossibly wide, and her eyes traced over his chest muscles and down each bump of his abdominal muscles.
Breathe, Elle. A flush burned her cheeks as she drew in a breath. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t some sort of sheltered Victorian virgin who’d never seen a man with his shirt off before. She’d been married for God’s sake. Even with the mental rebukes running through her head, she could not seem to tear her eyes away from his exposed flesh. If she’d wanted to touch him when he had his shirt on, her palms positively itched to run over the muscles her eyes had caressed.
She looked up into his eyes and his mouth pulled up in the corner as if he knew what was running through her head. He cleared his throat, and he looked at the supplies in her hand, as if to remind her she had a task to do.
Her cheeks burned hotter. Now he would really think she was an idiot.
“Please turn so I can see your back.” Far from sounding like the confident woman she usually was, her voice came out shaky and uncertain. She had to get a grip. He’s just a man, a man who needs your help. Yes, he’s attractive, but you need to get over it.