I would keep her safe.
Even if it meant from the other Tennyson.
The eldest brother meant to rule the empire.
The prodigal who’d never wanted to return but had no choice.
I would keep her from the sweet-tasting poison if it was the last thing I did. Damn, I just had to be in the story where not one but two women needed saving, and I had a brother who hated me. I could only hope to God the dragon didn’t wake up.
Chapter Ten
ISOBEL
One week later
He slept a lot.
Not saying it was weird. The guy was healing, and every time I walked into the living room to have the talk about our broken engagement, he’d do something sweet like ask me how my day was going.
I’d officially told the hospital that I wasn’t going to be volunteering for a few weeks while Julian healed.
Which left me a lot of free time to go on runs and come home and make sure that everything was as it should be.
Because that’s what I’d always done for him.
And because that’s what was expected.
I wanted to talk to him about us.
And yet I didn’t.
Because he looked at me differently.
It was the worst excuse I could come up with, but there it was, he didn’t seem to remember that I was in the process of breaking up with him that day, and even though he said he would need my help with his memory, it just seemed like a really big thing to forget.
“Hey.” He was sitting on the couch, the bruising starting to look a little better, and at least his eyes were fully open now, no swelling.
He was the same.
But altered.
In a way that I couldn’t explain because he looked exactly the same except for the giant muscles bulging all over his body, which further proved my point that I’d been blind to so much, hadn’t I? He’d been cheating and doing God knows what, and apparently lifting weights like it was his new hobby.
“Hi.” I tucked my hair behind my ear and made my way to the fridge. “I was going to start dinner. Did you want—”
“Let me help.” He was already on his feet, limping over to me. Making me feel slightly guilty for feeling angry at him when he was in such a weakened state. It was difficult to be mad when he was so vulnerable.
Ever since my freak-out with the shoes, he’d been patient, calm, and acted like everything I said was interesting. The old Julian would have been holed up in his office working from home.
The new Julian was offering to help me cook.
I sighed. “Julian, you almost died. Maybe you should just keep taking it easy. It’s only been a week, and you know your father will want you back at the offices as soon as you’re able.”
My stomach clenched.
Why was I upset about him working?
It wasn’t like we were spending much time together at the apartment. We were like passing ships in the night.
And yet I could swear there was this electric charge every single time he walked by me, like he was a stranger, but with Julian’s face and mannerisms.
“I’m fine.” He gave me a sweet smile and then grabbed a pot while I pulled out some pasta. “Besides, you’ve done nothing but take care of me for the past few days. Let me help you. I’ve been doing nothing but sitting on my ass.”
“Because it’s bruised,” I said under my breath.
Julian let out a little chuckle. “I think my ass is the only thing that’s not bruised, but good to know you’re concerned about it.” He winked. “It is a really nice ass.”
Heat flooded my face. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, you were thinking it.” He tapped the side of his head. “Mind reader.”
I smiled and rolled my eyes. “Maybe you should have used those magical forces before the car hit you.”
“Right, but then I wouldn’t have a stunningly sexy woman nursing me back to health.”
My whole body began to tremble with want. He rarely complimented me anymore. Did he just call me sexy? I narrowed my eyes at him. “What game are you playing?”
“Game?” He crossed his arms. “Calling my fiancée sexy shouldn’t be a game. It’s just a truth, like the sky is blue, turtles are green.”
“Some are yellow.”
“Really?” He took a step toward me. “Are you trying to argue against your own sexiness? Because I could easily list all the things about you that are sexy, starting with the smatter of freckles on your nose. I counted seven, I love them.”
Who was this man?
My heart thundered in my chest, with hope, with stupid, painful hope.
“Y-you counted my freckles?”
He nodded, getting closer. The simple gray T-shirt hugged his chest so much that I thought he was going to rip it in half, and his jeans hung low on his hips as his smile spread. “And your eyes.”