Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 105939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
“Questions later.” He scooped her into his arms, feeling her weight settle against his chest. “Hold tight.”
The flames roared higher as he turned toward the exit, their summoned intelligence recognizing that its prey was escaping. Fire that had been merely dangerous became actively hostile, reaching for them with tendrils that sparked against his protection but couldn't quite break through.
Bastien moved through the inferno carrying Delphine, his enhanced strength making her weightless. Behind them, the research room collapsed as the fire's purpose was thwarted, consuming everything in frustrated rage. Ahead, the stairwell filled with ordinary flame—dangerous to mortals but nothing to what he'd become.
He descended through smoke and heat while Delphine clung to him, her face buried against his shoulder. She was shaking, but not just from fear. He could feel her mind working, cataloging impossibilities she'd witnessed, trying to process evidence that reality contained layers she'd never suspected.
The first floor entrance hall remained clear, the fire having retreated to consolidate its remaining power. Bastien carried Delphine through doors that opened onto chaos—emergency vehicles, shouting firefighters, and crowd barriers holding back curious locals who'd gathered to watch the Quarter's most important Archive burn.
Captain Rodriguez met them at the bottom of the steps, his expression cycling through relief and confusion. “How the hell did you get through that? My men couldn't get within ten feet of the entrance.”
“Lucky timing,” Bastien said, setting Delphine gently on her feet. “The flames died down just long enough.”
It was a lie that wouldn't survive scrutiny, but Rodriguez was too focused on immediate concerns to press for details. Paramedics surrounded Delphine, checking her vitals while she submitted to their attention with obvious impatience.
“I'm fine,” she kept repeating, her gaze fixed on Bastien over their shoulders. “Really, I'm fine. Just a little smoke inhalation.”
But her eyes told a different story. She'd seen him walk through fire that should have killed anything mortal. Seen him glow with light that didn’t come from any sort of reflected flames. And now she was putting together pieces of a puzzle that would change everything between them.
The paramedics finally released her with instructions to seek follow-up care if she experienced breathing difficulties. The crowd began to disperse as firefighters contained what remained of the blaze. And Delphine walked straight to where Bastien stood watching the Archive's destruction, her expression demanding answers he wasn't prepared to give.
“We need to talk,” she said quietly. “Now.”
He nodded toward his car, parked beyond the emergency perimeter. “Not here.”
They drove in silence through Quarter streets that felt different now, charged with the aftermath of open conflict. Bastien could feel Delphine studying him, her researcher's mind cataloging details that hadn't registered during the crisis. The way he'd moved through the fire without protective gear. The strange light that had surrounded him in the flames. The impossible fact that he'd emerged without so much as singed clothing.
He parked near Jackson Square, where late-night tourists provided cover for conversations that couldn't happen in private spaces. They walked to a bench beside the cathedral, surrounded by the comfortable noise of street musicians and fortune tellers conducting their own forms of business with the unexplained.
“Start talking,” Delphine said, settling beside him with the directness he'd always loved about her. “What are you?”
The question cut straight to the heart of everything he'd hidden for twenty-five years. He could maintain the deception, create some explanation that would preserve the careful distance he'd maintained. Or he could trust her with truth that would change her life forever.
“I'm not human,” he said simply. “Haven't been for a very long time.”
She absorbed this with the calm of someone who'd just watched impossible things happen. Quiet for a long moment, she studied his profile in the square's lamplight. “The fire tonight. It wasn't an accident.”
“No. Someone sent it specifically for you. Someone who wants to hurt me by hurting the people I care about.”
“And you care about me.” It wasn't a question.
“Yes.”
“Why?” She turned to face him directly, her dark eyes searching his face for answers. “We barely know each other. I mean, I thought we barely knew each other. But the way you looked at me in the Archive that first day . . . like you'd seen a ghost.”
The opening was there, perfect for telling her everything. About Charlotte, about Delia, about love that had survived death and reincarnation and over a century of careful waiting. But looking at her face in the lamplight—alive, unhurt, trusting him with questions that proved her courage—he couldn't bring himself to burden her with the weight of lives she couldn't remember.
“It's complicated,” he said instead. “Your family has connections to things that go back generations. People I knew a long time ago. And those connections put you in danger from forces that most people never have to worry about.”
“What kind of forces?”