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He paused at the door, and she paused too.
“Is something wrong?”
“I must be honest with you,” he began, suddenly realizing he didn’t even know what sounds to produce at this crossroad. “The acoustics is not my only or first reason for asking you to join me tonight. Would you mind sitting with me that I may properly introduce myself and explain?”
The change in her breathing and heart rate alarmed him.
“Whatever it is you fear with me, I can assure you it’s unnecessary.”
“I’m not afraid, Mr. Lore, I’m cautious.”
The half-truth intrigued him. “An admirable and wise trait.” He gestured to the nearest table, and she nodded, heading for it. He organized his thoughts as he followed, realizing he wasn’t much better off. He’d gotten himself out of one mess and placed himself in another. Now what?
The second she pulled her own chair out, he remembered that was his job. He mentally ripped the play page from his brain and tossed it as he sat, staring at the table and the blank slate in his mind.
“As you were saying,” she prompted.
“Yes,” he said, stumbling inside himself. “I have never done a thing like this before,” he half marveled. “My vocation doesn’t permit me to speak to women.” He closed his eyes. “I surely speak to women,” he corrected. “I’m a teacher at the Creole King Academy for the gifted. There are thirteen Kings at this academy and all of us have remained celibate.” He eyed her expectant gaze, realizing his words had taken him to the last corner he wanted to be in. Telling her he’d been bitten by a bat crazed man or that they were prophetic Kings with fantastical coins ushering in a golden era was just the crazy he’d wanted to avoid. “I have found myself in a mental corner,” he confessed, hoping his tone drew on her patience and sympathy.
“What exactly is the other reason you needed me for?”
The direct approach spun him in various directions in his head as his gifts picked up an increase in agitation. “Natasha—”
“Miss Sheridan, if you don’t mind.”
Lore stilled at the correction, realizing his mistake. “My apologies for being forward.” What was he doing? There, with her? The second he dared to meet her gaze it all came back to him. “I like you,” he said on a single breath. “From the moment I saw you in the hall,” he hurried, ripping the bandage off. “The vision of you haunts me. The feel of your hand and the taste of your skin, I have never experienced such a thing in my life and... I was hoping to know you better.”
His words cut off there and he closed his mouth, realizing he’d said the entire confession without strategically using his gifts.
She lowered her gaze to her lap, drawing her brows together. “I’m afraid that’s not a good idea because...”
His hope held as he picked up on her inner struggle. “The soldiers,” he remembered. “That you’re here to help with.” He’d nearly said evolve but didn’t want to open that door due to what it entailed.
“You know?” she said, worried.
“I was informed, yes. But I was also told nothing was official until the union was formed.”
Her confusion scraped along his skin. “I’m not sure what you mean, we’ve all agreed. In writing,” she added.
“I understood—”
“From who?”
“Dr. Harlow.”
“Are you saying you asked him permission to... do this? With me?”
His instincts kicked into gear at the first sign of her anger. “I asked permission because it’s proper,” he said. “I was informed of the arrangement.”
“And he said it wasn’t official? He used those words?”
“He said you were free to do as you pleased. I didn’t press beyond this. Forgive me, I see I've overstepped.”
“You have not overstepped,” she assured even as her gaze held hesitation. “I’m just confused, I was under the impression our arrangement here was official.”
She stood and began pacing.
“It is surely official if you wish it to be. This was my understanding.”
