Taming the Demon by Doranna Durgin

And look, it’s happening again. How long had it been since she had fallen so easily into lying?
    Years.
    Enrique was right. She was a nice young woman now. And she didn’t need Devin James messing with her life.
    * * *
    Devin had almost forgotten she was there. Forgotten about her, no. Forgotten her presence the night before...
    Far from it.
    And this morning. If anything of this past day reigned crystal clear in his mind, it was the moment this morning when the blade tried to curl back through his mind and she’d brought him back. Given him that silly little trick. Count your toes....
    And if anything reigned crystal clear in his mind, it was that every time she’d touched him—all through the fiery tumult of the night—he’d found just that instant of respite, of focus.
    It hadn’t been enough, of course. Nothing was enough—nothing could be enough, if the blade had finally broken through his boundaries of self.
    But it was more than he’d had before.
    “You okay?” she asked him, looking up into his face—direct and unabashed. “Your color isn’t—”
    Enrique snorted. “Every time,” he said. “Sits through the stitching like a man, walks out the door and—”
    “Once,” Devin said sharply. “Just once. And I—”
    Natalie’s interruption came with haste. “Now,” she said, with some purpose, “will you come with me to see Mr. Compton?”
    For a moment, he didn’t know what she was talking about. A blink, a frown...a quick search of her features and the determination there. His gaze slid down her cheekbones, came to rest on her mouth...lingered there, while his thoughts blurred around the edges.
    It was some moments later that he felt Enrique’s hand on his arm—fingers closing at his elbow, a firm but understanding grip. “Whoever you want to see,” he said, “it should be later. Now he should rest.”
    Devin shook himself free. “I’m fine,” he said, suddenly annoyed at the entire situation. Mothered by an aging boxer, pushed to meet Natalie’s demanding boss—tethered to it all by weakness.
    He should have been able to drive home the night before; he should have been able to get himself to Enrique on the bus. Dammit.
    “I’m fine, ” he said again, though no one had argued. He shook off Enrique’s hand, stalked away from Natalie’s expectant eyes and aimed himself at the grimy glass gym door. Enrique’s Spanish curse at his back meant nothing; Natalie’s noise of dismay meant nothing.
    The guys in workout mode between Devin and the door faded back and out of the way.
    He stalked out into the bright sunshine and started walking, cat-footed in the black high-topped martial arts shoes he’d pulled this morning instead of wet sneakers. The cold hit him like a cruel slap, and he tipped his head back to soak it in, absurdly glad to feel it at all. Enough to laugh at himself, there on the sidewalk, his arms open to receive the cold and sunshine—to garner a strange look or two along the way.
    Well, that was okay, too. All part of the game.
    For however long it lasted.
    He wasn’t surprised to hear hasty steps on the sidewalk coming up behind him. “You’re following pretty closely for a woman who drove away so easily last night,” he observed, not turning around.
    Even if he’d just realized he’d turned in the wrong direction, and would need to cut over at the next cross walk in order to reach the right ABQ Ride bus stop. As if to drive the point home, one of the striking, red-and-white, double-length buses roared past.
    “Hey,” she said, a little breathless. “I came back. ”
    “Right. You make your own choices.” If he shivered a little, he took a deep breath and enjoyed that, too. “Or so you say.”
    “Hey!”
    Now he stopped, so abruptly she ran into him and bounced back a step or two—and then another, as he took a step toward her, ignoring the faint alarm and definite surprise on her face. “Tell your boss no thanks. I’ve got things to do.”
    Such as