Lowering his hand, he met her wide-eyed gaze.
“Their eyes were glowing, too,” she said.
“Yes.”
Her throat moved in a swallow. “And when you were fighting that guy…”
“Roland,” he offered, providing the name of his opponent.
“You both moved as fast as the Flash,” she continued.
Roland had given him little choice, damn him. “Yes.”
Time ticked by, stretching his nerves taut.
She nodded slowly. And even from this distance, he could see her hands shaking. “You said you were different.”
He had.
“On our first date, you told me you were different,” she repeated.
“Yes, I did.”
Glancing down, she considered the Taser in her hand, the probes Roland had removed with ease, the abandoned swords Seth had cast aside, then met his gaze once more. “You kind of downplayed it, huh?”
Under other circumstances, he might have laughed. But now the best he could do was muster a weak smile. “Yes, I did.”
Insects hummed.
Frogs croaked.
And every second Dana didn’t tell him to go to hell, Aidan felt a tiny spark of hope.
He motioned to the Taser. “Are you going to use that on me?”
She glanced at the weapon she held. “Would it do any good?”
He shrugged. “It might make you feel better.”
Another nod. “Then I reserve the right to use it on you later. Right now…” Tears welled in her eyes as she swallowed hard once more. “Could you maybe just hold me for a minute?”
Heart aching, he closed the distance between them and pulled her into a tight embrace.
The Taser clattered to the ground as she dropped it and fisted her small hands in the back of his coat.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to her hair, then rested his cheek on top of her head. “I’m so sorry.”
Dana nearly burst into tears.
Those hoarsely uttered words carried such remorse.
“I thought he was going to kill you,” she whispered, voice breaking. When she had seen Aidan and that other man hacking at each other with swords as they had in her vision…
“Roland?” he murmured.
She nodded against his chest, doing her damnedest to fight back the sobs that threatened to tumble forth. She had never been so afraid in her life. Her body still shook from it.
“I’m stronger than he is,” Aidan said, his voice both gentle and full of regret. For the scare he had given her? Or for her finding out he’d been keeping such enormous secrets from her? “He wouldn’t have bested me.”
Aidan had fought fiercely, but…
“When that other guy appeared out of nowhere,” she said, “the one I saw trying to kill you in the other vision…” The one who’d looked like he was damned near seven feet tall and had black hair down to his ass and eyes that glowed golden. “I thought…”
“It’s okay,” he murmured, stroking her back.
She had thought the taller man and Roland would join forces, that they would work together to kill Aidan. And utter terror had gripped her because she had known she couldn’t do jack about it.
“I’m okay,” he whispered. “We both are. I’ll never let anyone harm you, Dana. I vow it. I’d give my life to protect you.”
And despite everything, she believed him.
But hadn’t he hurt her by not trusting her with whatever the hell all this meant?
“I’m so sorry,” he said again.
Dana burrowed closer. “This doesn’t mean I’m not pissed at you,” she said in a broken whisper. She was. She just couldn’t seem to let go.
“I know,” he said with so much sorrow that she wanted to cry even more. “Let’s go inside, shall we?” he suggested. “I can feel you trembling.”
Her heart continued to pound erratically, too.
“Let’s go inside,” he urged again. “So you can be warm and comfortable while I try to explain all this and engage in what I imagine will be a fair amount of groveling and begging your forgiveness.”
Dana couldn’t imagine Aidan begging for anything, not after she’d seen him swing his swords with such precision. But she really did need to sit down. “Okay.”
“Do you want me to carry you?”
“No,” she told him. “I’m okay.”
Shifting her to his side, he kept one arm around her shoulders as he escorted her into her shop and halted just inside the door. “I need to collect the weapons. It will only take a moment.”
When she nodded, he stepped out into the night.
Moving over to the waiting area, she looked through the bay window.
Outside, Aidan bent down to retrieve her discarded Taser, then headed for the swords that had flown across the parking lot as though guided by an unseen hand.
He didn’t zip around like the Flash this time. He moved at normal speeds, his lips clamped together in a grim line.
She supposed he did that for her benefit.
As she watched him, she became conscious of her reflection in the windowpanes.
The heartbeat that had begun to slow picked up speed once more as she stared.
Something red was smeared all over one side of her face and neck. The side she had pressed to Aidan’s chest.
Holding out her arms, she looked down.
Blood—a lot of it—painted a sickening amount of skin on her arms and stained most of the front of her shirt. But she hadn’t been wounded.
Dana recalled the vision that had struck her when Aidan had kissed her hand the first time they’d met. The one of him standing before her with blood streaking across his face and neck. Of a deep slash opening on his chest. Another opening on his left arm, then his right. Of his hand, curled around hers, growing wet with blood.
She gasped, realizing that—like the vision with Roland—the vision of Aidan wounded had shown her what would happen tonight. She had thought the vision a glimpse of Aidan’s past. He had even implied it was by describing exactly where the wounds had been on his body. How could he have known that if it hadn’t happened yet?
Oh. Right. He had read her mind.
A bell tinkled as the door opened and Aidan entered.
As Dana stared up at him, she registered all the things she had been too overcome with shock to notice a few minutes ago.
Blood splattered his face and neck. His shirt bore a long tear across his chest, the fabric parting enough for her to see jagged flesh covered with blood. Both his coat sleeves bore similar tears.
Aidan wiped the swords clean with his shirt, then tucked them into hidden sheaths sewn into his coat’s inner lining.
Holy crap, there were a lot of weapons in there. Swords. Daggers. Throwing stars.
Did he always carry around that many weapons?
When he let the coat fall back into place, her scattered thoughts refocused on the tears that marred it.
Raising his head, he caught her look and froze. Dread crept into his somber expression. “Have you changed your mind? Am I not welcome?”
“You’re hurt,” she blurted. Badly. How was he even still standing?