(Continued from the previous chapter The Devil’s in the Details, Chapter 3 of the Devil series)
“Who is Clotilde?”
Eric swallows, and suddenly he’s…nervous. He’s a fucking demon, a fiend from Hell, he doesn’t get nervous.
And yet…
“Clotilde?” Eric can’t help but ask, mostly because he never thought that name would ever leave Tabby’s mouth.
“Yes…she was someone to you, wasn’t she?”
Tabby has that adorable puckered brow thing going on, and Eric wants to smooth the wrinkles.
He clears his throat. “Yeah, a really long time ago.”
Tabby sweeps her wild mane of dark waves out of her face, and he hates that her skin is damp from sweat, from whatever nightmare she’d been having. She looks resolved—the furrowed brow turns into some other emotion. Frustration?
“I was attacked in an alley and almost killed. I think I deserve to know something. Like why I keep having these dreams about her…and you…”
Eric scrubs a hand down his face, feeling the scrape of stubble on his palm. He should have known better, should have known never to appear to her in that crossroads. He vowed a long time ago, when she was born, he would stay away until their paths crossed on her terms. Eric had resigned himself to it never happening, and then that dumb fuck stole her work.
“Clotilde…. Centuries ago, she was someone I cared for very much.”
Tabby’s brow arches, urging him on.
“You have to understand, Tabby. I’m, well, to put it simply…...