She waited for the door to open.
* * *
Roman stood before the wardrobe, the hair rising on his arms. Static danced in his blood; he could scarcely understand why until he set down his typewriter and opened the door, the torch light melting the shadows.
He saw the shine of the wrench first, then the slender arm that held it. Even then, he was so shocked that he merely stared at her. In that tense moment, she could have bludgeoned him. She could have split him open to the bone and, by the fierce expression on her face, it seemed she wanted to. But she was just as frozen as he was.
He wondered if he was dreaming, if he was asleep, because it was her. She was here, gazing up at him with those bewitching hazel eyes, her lips parted, her long brown hair tangled around her shoulders.
The recognition tore through him like a bullet, and Roman knew he was awake and lucid, even as he stood face-to-face with a dream.
He was looking at Iris Winnow.
{22}
Evanesce into Smoke
Iris lowered the wrench.
Chills raced along her skin as she stared at Roman. She couldn’t draw breath; she could only wonder if she was imagining him. If he would morph into a stranger when she closed her eyes. It felt like a cruel enchantment that Dacre would delight in, granting her a surge of hope before reality broke her.
Sweat trickled into her eyes, burning her vision.
Iris blinked, but Roman remained, just as solid and tangible as she remembered him. She let herself relax, and perhaps that was foolish. But she wanted to savor him, retrace every line and bend of his body.
To her shock, he looked older, thinner. There was a hollowness to his face that hadn’t been there before, and a cold slant to his expression.
“Kitt?” she dared to whisper.
He didn’t move, but Iris watched as he swallowed. His blue eyes smoldered as he studied her; she was jarred by it until she realized he was also taking in her every detail, from her neck down to her toes. Her skeins of hair, the freckles on her face. The longer he beheld her, the more his countenance softened, and she wondered if he was remembering her. If there was something about her that called to him. A mortal bond that was stronger than any divine magic.
“Kitt,” she said again. “Kitt, I—”
Roman laid a finger to his mouth. The two of them fell silent, listening to a burst of angry voices on the floor below. As far as Iris could tell, Roman was the only one who had ascended the stairs. But by the way the house shuddered, others might not be far behind him.
His gaze never left hers as they waited for the commotion to calm below. Doors opened and closed. An order was barked, although the words were indecipherable.
Iris bit her lip until it stung. She wondered if she was about to be captured. If Roman would fall with her. The image sent a shiver down her bones.
“Do you have a place to go?” he whispered at last. “A way to escape?”
Iris glanced at the wrench in her hand. She slid it into her pocket, flexing her tingling fingers. “Yes. There’s a car waiting for me. I was planning to crawl out the window.”
Roman hesitated, a tendril of black hair cutting across his brow. “I think that’s your best bet at the moment.”
She nodded, suppressing the urge to throw herself into his arms. To breathe him in. It was tempting to surrender to the past as if they had never been separated, to let those old days pull her under like a tide. But his polite reserve doused that fire. His guarded expression and words …
He doesn’t remember me.
Iris nearly bent over from the anguish. She twisted her wedding band on her finger instead, Roman’s inscrutable gaze tracking the movement. Even so, there was no spark of recognition within him.
It felt like a stone had settled in her stomach as she watched Roman stride to the window. He hefted it fully open without struggle, and a flood of crisp night air stole into the chamber, beckoning Iris forward.
“There’s a porch roof just beneath here,” he said after examining the view. He glanced back at Iris, motioning for her to come closer. “You should be able to climb down easily if you’re careful. It’s clear if you go now.”
Iris reached the window, the breeze stirring her hair. She stood so close to Roman she could feel the heat of his skin, and yet she didn’t touch him.
“Why are you helping me?” she murmured.
Roman became very still, his eyes riveted to the nightscape beyond the window. For an excruciating moment, Iris thought he wasn’t going to answer her. But perhaps she didn’t need his words; she could see it in his face when he met her gaze. He did recognize her, although it seemed pieces were still missing.