Mercy Burns

itself had kissed it.

She was a sea dragon. My gaze skimmed her body.

She was also pregnant. Very pregnant.

Meaning this really was serious.

“I’m Destiny.” She stepped forward and offered her hand. “And I’m the previously mentioned lady in distress.”

I moved past my brother and shook her hand. Her skin was on the cool side, but her eyes were warm and friendly, and dimples were lurking about the corners of her lips.

“You don’t actually look too distressed,” I said, waving them both into the living room.

“Oh, I’m not.” She smiled up at Trae as his fingers twined through hers. The love so evident in that brief glance had my heart aching. “Although your brother has been the cause of a fair bit of stress over the last few months or so.”

“He’s like that,” I said wryly. “No thought or concern for those who care about him.”

“Ha,” he said, seating Destiny on the one sofa I had before folding himself to the floor at her feet. “This from the woman who apparently got herself into so much trouble that she gave her mother nightmares?”

I raised my eyebrows as I sat on the chair opposite them. “Why on earth would Mom be worried about me?”

“Because she was getting visions of you in trouble, and no one knew where you were or how to get hold of you. And you weren’t answering your phone.”

“I broke it.” I hadn’t even thought to ring Mom, but even if I had, I wouldn’t have. Especially not after Rainey’s death. “So that’s why you’re here? So you can tell Mom that you’ve seen me and I’m okay?”

“That, and to tell you I’m going to be a dad.”

“Like that wasn’t obvious.” I glanced at Destiny with a smile. “You’re a brave woman to take him on. He’s a little bit crazy. You know that, don’t you?”

She nodded, green eyes twinkling. “I discovered that awhile back.”

Both of them were grinning broadly, and Trae was looking happier than I’d ever seen him, but even as my heart rejoiced for them, it broke a little more.

And Trae saw it. The brightness in his eyes dimmed a little and he frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, brother, I am.” I said it softly, forcefully, and even if I didn’t entirely convince myself, it seemed to convince him, because he relaxed a little. I pushed to my feet. “Now, while I grab us all some coffee, why don’t you tell me how you two met?”

So they did. And I wasn’t the only one who’d had a harrowing time recently, it seemed.

“So,” Trae said, several cups later. “You want to explain how you burned down both my apartment and yours?”

“That’s sort of a long story.” And it wasn’t one I really wanted to get into right then. Not when it was all still so raw.

He raised an eyebrow and gave me the sort of look that suggested he was prepared to wait a very long time indeed. “We have nothing to do for the next couple of hours.”

So much for him believing that I was okay. Thankfully, the doorbell chose that moment to ring. “Gotta answer that,” I said, rather unsuccessfully hiding the relief in my voice as I jumped up.

“We’ll just help ourselves to the contents of your fridge,” he said, voice dry. “And don’t think we’re going to be put off by whoever it is at the door.”

I flashed him a grin over my shoulder in acknowledgment and pressed the intercom button.

“Yes?”

“Mercy? It’s Damon.”

My body went hot, then cold, and my hands were suddenly shaking.

“Who?” My fingers reflexively touched the lotus pendant around my neck. I must have heard wrong. He couldn’t be here. Not after walking away. Not after all his fine speeches about being a muerte and wanting no one to care about.

“It’s me, Mercy.”

He sounded so heartbreakingly real, like he really was standing down there. But part of me didn’t want to believe it. He’d walked away. Surely he wouldn’t just walk back, like nothing had happened.

When I didn’t say anything, he added softly, “I need to talk to you.”

“Why?” I asked automatically. Then I remembered Trae and Destiny standing in my kitchen, undoubtedly listening to every word, and I added hastily, “I’m coming down.”

I grabbed my jacket from the coatrack, flung an “I’ll be back” over my shoulder, then dived out the door. I didn’t wait for the elevator but took the stairs two at a time, slowing only when I neared the ground floor.

It was him.

He was leaning a shoulder against the wall of the building, staring off down the street. His sharp features were drawn, as if he’d been getting as little sleep as I had, and there were shadows under his eyes.

I slowed as my foot hit the foyer floor, wanting to drink in the sight of him just a bit longer, enjoy the feeling of him flowing through my mind. But he sensed my presence and looked my way.

Those dark eyes caught mine so easily, and yet they were completely neutral—showing nothing, revealing nothing. I stopped, suddenly unsure whether I really should open that door.

What if he wasn’t here to tell me he missed me?

What if he was simply here to sort out something relating to Hannish and the Jamieson king?

My stomach suddenly twisted. God, what if he was here to drag me in front of the council?

I took a step back, then stopped.

This was stupid. I was braver than this. I’d proved that time and again.

“What do you want, Damon?”

“I didn’t come here to talk to you through a glass security door, Mercy. Either let me in, or come out.”

“Why should I come out? You left.” My voice broke a little, but I sucked it up and added, “What more is there to discuss?”

“Plenty.” He paused, and a sweet, almost tentative smile teased the corners of his mouth. “I’ve arranged for chocolate cake …”

Despite my fears, I couldn’t help feeling a glimmer of amusement. He’d remembered. That had to be good, right? “I don’t see any chocolate cake.”

“It’s waiting in the restaurant down the street.”

“And why would it be waiting there?”

“Because I thought you were more likely to talk to me on neutral ground.” He paused again, and I swear fear flashed through the dark depths of his eyes. It made that small sliver of hope that had been with me since he’d left burst into a bonfire. “Please, Mercy. Come out and talk to me.”

“You have precisely twenty minutes,” I said, knowing even as I said it that he could have the rest of my life if only he said the right words. “I have guests waiting upstairs.”

I opened the door then grabbed the loose edges of my jacket and wrapped them around me—more to keep from reaching for him than any real need to keep out the cold.

But I couldn’t help drawing in the scent of him, letting the richness of it flow through my lungs, filling and warming me.

“This way,” he said, raising his hand to guide me, then dropping it before he actually touched my back.

We walked down the street like two strangers, and yet every time he moved, every time he breathed, I was aware of it.

He opened the restaurant door and ushered me through, once again careful not to touch me, then guided me over to a table in the corner. The place was small, homey, and packed. Our table was the only empty one.

A waiter came up immediately, depositing two coffees and a large serving of chocolate cake before removing the “reserved” sign and walking away.

I wrapped my fingers around the cup and drew it close, but I didn’t dare pick it up. My hands were still shaking too much.

“So,” I said finally, meeting his dark gaze. “What do you want to talk about?”