Page 18 of Balthazar's Fire

He rescued me!

Her breath hitched as the thought replayed in her head. Balthazar hardly knew her and yet he’d persuaded his brothers to give up their time and put themselves in danger—all for her. It was unfathomable.

“Who do you know?” She reached for his knee, her fingers skimming the expensive material of his suit. Even now, after everything he had been through for her, he sat there in his Versace suit, looking every inch the poster boy for corporate beauty. It was inexplicable how a man like him could even be interested in Cherie, let alone prepared to rearrange his life for her. “Who else do you know who can do that?”

She screwed up her face with the last word, trying desperately to push the mental image of the two-headed creature out of her head.

“That’s less easy to answer,’” he purred in that soft, tantalizing tone. “I want to be honest with you, but the truth reveals personal information about other people.”

“Oh.”

What does that mean?

“And once upon a time I made a promise to someone I loved that I would never tell another soul.” Balthazar’s eyes darkened, a glint of sadness glimmering in them as his hand fell to hers.

“Okay, I understand.” She didn’t understand at all.

“No.” His lips curled as his warm palm moved to trap her hand on his thigh. “Of course, you don’t. How could you? I’ll need to be a little more forthcoming for you to understand.”

“Like you said, there’s no pressure.” She smiled, surprisingly relaxed considering everything that had happened. In the last twenty-four hours, she’d discovered Oliver was a snarling beast, left his employment, and been kidnapped. It was astonishing that she could smile at all. “Please don’t share anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“That’s the problem.” His brown eyes were knowing as his thumb stroked the back of her hand. “I am comfortable. Too comfortable.”

A line appeared in her brow as she struggled to fathom what he was telling her. “I know it’s been a long day and I didn’t get much sleep, but… are you intentionally speaking in riddles?”

He chuckled at her question; low throaty laughter erupting from his tempting mouth. Cherie glanced at his lips, remembering how good he’d tasted at the lodge and how much she’d wanted more.

“I promise I’m not,” he assured her. “It’s just that what I have to say is intensely private.”

“Okay.” Hadn’t he already said that he couldn’t divulge more without betraying confidences?

“I want to tell you something that I’ve never told anyone before.” The tiny tremble in his voice revealed his nerves, but his gaze shone with confidence.

“Even though you promised someone you loved that you wouldn’t?” she reminded him.

“Yeah.” His brows knitted for a moment as he presumably recalled the details of the vow. “Despite that promise.”

“Balthazar.” She turned to face him, fleetingly forgetting that it was only his toweling robe offering her any modesty. “I don’t want you to break a vow for me.” She shook her head as if to reinforce the point. “You’ve done too much for me already.”

“I shouldn’t have told you about the vow.” A flicker of regret resounded in his tone. “But trust me when I say that part of this secret is mine to tell, and the person I swore to would understand how important it is that I do.”

“You’re sure?” Tugging her hand from his, she reached for his jaw and ran her fingertips through the soft stubble that had regrown since his last shave. A shiver of desire raced along her spine at the intimate contact, but she noticed how Balthazar never even flinched. “We’ve both had one hell of a day. I think it would be okay to sleep on your decision.”

“Cherie.” His voice was deeper as gently, he reached for her wrist and drew her fingertips to his lips. Grazing them with a light kiss, his focus fixed on her face. “You don’t know me, so you won’t know how cautious I am, or that I’m the least impulsive of my father’s four sons, but I really want to tell you this thing about me.”

“All right.”

She swallowed at the intensity in his eyes. Cherie had witnessed it a couple of times in the last day. Once, when Balthazar had confronted Oliver in Monty’s, and again when he’d rushed her from the basement, but she couldn’t recall ever being so close when he exuded it. The man was utterly breathtaking.

“The reason I’m so familiar with shape-shifters is because I am one.”

His voice was steady as he delivered the bombshell, but Cherie’s heart sped up at the admission, as though it instinctively understood the significance before her brain had processed his words.

“Wh-what?” she stammered, searching his expression for any sign that he was playing with her. “What do you mean?”

For a split second she considered pulling away from Balthazar, but the mesmerizing look in his eyes consoled her. She was safe. Balthazar wouldn’t hurt her.

“I mean, I can shift into another creature, as well.” His voice was smooth, but strong, like a stiff drink when it was needed.