Calum

Calum stood in front of Camille's room long after she disappeared inside. His blood sang with the memory of her body beneath his. More than a century had passed since his heart had stirred for a woman, and now the damn thing wanted to tap dance every time she was near.

At first, he'd written it off as part of his need to protect the innocent. He'd never been able to watch someone else hurt, a fact that had infuriated his father to no end. And Camille certainly had an innocence about her, despite how she tried to appear hardened to the world.

Thinking he'd never see her again, he'd found the darkest corner in the bar and allowed himself to study her all evening. She was kind to everyone, but her smile never reached those bright blue eyes. Calum was aware that she knew he was watching her, but rather than divert his attention to the awful clamoring on the stage, he'd become bolder. When their gazes had met across the room, he offered her a small smirk, enjoying the fact that it riled her up.

Calum trudged down the hallway to his own room. After rescuing her at her apartment, he'd wisely put some distance between them, telling himself it was for all the reasons he'd just shared with her. She had to earn his trust. She wasn't just some ordinary human found working with known fugitives.

She had tested his resolve every morning when he'd passed her in the house. Camille's eyes would fill with hurt when he'd nod in greeting and get the hell out of there. He'd watch from afar as she worked on endurance with Anna, her long legs growing stronger and her curves hardening into lean muscle. Now and then, she would stop to catch her breath, her eyes scanning the area for something or someone.

Damn it. You don't even know what the girl really looks like.

But he knew that didn't really matter. Camille called to something in him he thought long gone, and that made her more dangerous than the purple lightning she wielded. He hadn't been lying to her when he'd said he couldn't offer her more than friendship. No matter what his traitorous body and emotions wanted, he refused to experience that kind of heartache again. Because that's how it would end. He was a danger to anyone who loved him.

They would have to let her train with the other students soon. He'd not been completely truthful when he told they kept her separate because she had catching up to do. In fact, Anna had determined that Camille had been trained at some point in her life. She stepped into a fighting stance too naturally for someone untrained, even for one of the Children.

Percy had used that information to further his argument that Camille was dangerous, but Anna had stopped him. Camille might have been trained at one point, but it was obvious she was working with muscle memory and not pretending to be inept. The experience must have predated her memory loss. Just one more piece of the mystery that was Camille.

Someone knocked on his door as he was turning on the shower. For a moment, he considered ignoring it and climbing beneath the hot stream. His muscles were aching. One place in particular, he thought ruefully. Camille had been a worthy sparring partner before she discovered how to use her Talents in unison, but once she mastered the art, he would find himself hard pressed to stay ahead.

"Come in," he shouted, turning the water off.

"Where've you been all day?" Percy groused, leaning against the doorframe, his green eyes glittering with suspicion.

"I had work to tend to," Calum offered vaguely, aware that the redhead wouldn't buy it.

"Damn it, man. I thought you were going to stay away from her."

Calum placed his hands behind head and shot his friend a dirty look. "I never said anything of the sort. You told me to stay away from her. Last I checked, I'm not in the habit of following your directions."

Percy rolled his beefy neck, the cracking sound punctuating his frustration. "I told you to stay away from her because you have that same look in your eye as you did before. You were told that wasn't a good idea then, and you know what happened. Why do you think this idea is any better?"

The silence that followed Percy's words was heavy. The men faced each other, one dark and one fair, but both fueled by righteous indignation. Calum couldn't believe the other man was being so callous.

"You need to watch what you say. First and foremost, you don't get to talk about her like that. Second, the situation with Camille isn't anything like before. She's one of the Children, not human. She's part of this world. Wasn't that your argument before? That she wasn't a part of our world. That she was too fragile and that being with her would lead me to abandon my people and cause?"

"So I'm right. You're attracted to her?"

Percy's trap had been laid, and Calum had sprung it with little resistance. He had two options: deny it, knowing that Percy knew he was lying or finally come clean with his friend and with himself.

"Can you blame me?" He sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He felt like the words were ripped from his throat, betraying all the promises he'd made to his first love.

"She's pretty hot," Percy began, holding up his hands to stop Calum's objections. "But I know you're about more than that, and that's what concerns me. I can't watch you go through that again."

"I'm not going to go through it again because I'm not going to do anything. Can we drop this? I feel like I'm talking to one of the girls."

Percy punched him in the arm before turning to leave the room. "Stop trying to make light of this. You know I'm not about touchy feely crap either, but this is serious. We almost lost you, and I've seen the way you look at this girl. It's the same look you had before."

Calum remained seated long after Percy left. He didn't have to spend the rest of his life alone, and as one of the Children, Camille made sense. Yet he couldn't wipe away the image of a bloodstained, mud covered body rolled into a ditch like trash. He couldn't forget the words on the note pinned to her Sunday best, and he knew he wouldn't keep his sanity next time. Because they had promised a next time, and that was all it took for him to make up his mind.