What the Moon Made

HIS SHIRT, HIS BED, HIS RULES

Pain.

That’s the first thing I know.

Not where I am.

Not how I got here.

Just pain.

It pulses behind my eyes in slow, vicious waves, each one spreading across my skull until even thinking feels like something I should probably avoid.

I keep my eyes closed.

This seems wise.

Maybe if I don’t move, my brain will stop trying to escape through my forehead.

I breathe in slowly.

The pillow beneath my cheek smells unfamiliar.

Clean linen.

Something faintly woodsy.

And…

Cedar.

Smoke.

My eyes open.

The ceiling above me is enormous.

And definitely not mine.

I stare at it.

Once.

Twice.

My brain, apparently still on strike, offers absolutely nothing.

Okay.

That’s fine.

No reason to panic.

People wake up in strange bedrooms all the time.

Probably.

I turn my head.

Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across the far wall, revealing a city skyline washed in pale morning light. The bedroom is bigger than my entire apartment. Dark wood. Cream walls. Furniture that looks like touching it requires a credit check.

Where the hell am I?

I push myself onto my elbows.

The room immediately tips sideways.

“Oh, God.”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

My stomach rolls.

“Willa.”

My entire body freezes.

That voice.

Low.

Rough.

Familiar.

I slowly turn toward it.

Theodore De Luca is sitting beside the bed.

Of course he is.

Because apparently waking up with a skull full of broken glass in a billionaire’s bedroom is just the direction my life has taken.

He looks different.

Not bad different.

Which is irritating.

His white dress shirt is wrinkled, the first few buttons undone. The sleeves have been rolled to his forearms, exposing dark ink winding across his skin. His tie is gone. His usually perfect hair looks like he’s been dragging his fingers through it for hours.

There’s dark stubble along his jaw.

And shadows beneath his eyes.

He looks exhausted.

Theo De Luca does not look like a man who gets exhausted.

He looks like a man who purchases exhaustion and has it removed from the premises.

His eyes move over my face.

“You’re awake.”

“Excellent observation.”

Something changes in his expression.

Barely.

Almost a smile.

Then his gaze drops.

I follow it.

I’m wearing a shirt.

A very large shirt.

A very large men’s shirt.

Nothing else.

My brain comes online all at once.

I grab the blanket and yank it to my chest.

“What the hell?”

Theo rises immediately.

Too immediately.

I flinch.

He stops.

The movement is so abrupt that for one strange second we just stare at each other.

Something passes over his face.

Regret.

“Willa.”

“Why am I in your bed?”

“You were injured.”

“Why am I not wearing my clothes?”

His jaw tightens.

“They were wet.”

“Why?”

“You were outside in the rain.”

I stare at him.

Rain.

Something flickers.

A sidewalk.

Headlights reflected against wet pavement.

Cold air.

My shoes slipping.

Arms around me.

Then nothing.

My fingers tighten around the blanket.

“Who changed me?”

Silence.

My stomach drops.

“Theo.”

“I did.”

My heart slams against my ribs.

He hears it.

Of course he does.

But I don’t know that.

I only know that his expression changes the instant my pulse takes off.

“You undressed me?”

“Yes.”

My mouth falls open.

He doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed.

“You undressed me?”

“You were unconscious, soaking wet and injured.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It quite literally does.”

“Theodore.”

His eyes narrow slightly.

I don’t think he likes when I use his full name.

Good.

“I removed your wet clothing, checked you for injuries and put you in something dry.”

My face burns.

His shirt.

I’m wearing his shirt.

I pull the blanket higher.

His gaze immediately lifts to my face.

“I did nothing inappropriate.”

“You took my clothes off!”

“Because leaving you unconscious in wet clothing would have been inappropriate.”

“You could have called someone.”

“I could have.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Something shifts in his expression.

For the first time, he looks almost uncomfortable.

Not guilty.

Just unwilling to answer.

“Theo.”

“I didn’t want anyone else touching you.”

The room goes very quiet.

I stare at him.

He stares back.

There are approximately seven hundred things wrong with that sentence.

I settle on the easiest one.

“That is a deeply weird thing to say.”

“I am aware.”

“Are you?”

“Painfully.”

Despite myself, a tiny laugh escapes me.

My skull immediately retaliates.

I wince.

Theo is beside me before I can blink.

One second he’s several feet away.

The next he’s there.

I jerk backward.

He stops.

Again.

My heart pounds.

His eyes flick toward my chest.

Just for a second.

Then back to my face.

What the hell?

“Don’t move so quickly.”

“You’re the one teleporting around the room.”

“I did not teleport.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He reaches toward me.

I lean away instinctively.

His hand stops.

Something crosses his face.

Then he lowers it.

“You don’t have to let me touch you.”

The quietness of the words catches me off guard.

“I was only going to help you lie back.”

“Oh.”

“I won’t touch you again without asking.”

I stare at him.

That doesn’t exactly erase the fact that I woke up wearing his shirt, but somehow I believe him.

“Okay.”

I carefully lower myself against the pillows.

The room stops spinning after several seconds.

Mostly.

Theo steps back.

I touch my cheek.

Pain blooms beneath my fingertips.

And suddenly the memories come.

Kyle.

The woman.

The argument.

His hand.

The sharp crack across my face.

My head striking something.

My stomach twists.

“Oh.”

Theo goes unnaturally still.

“You remember.”

I look at him.

“How do you know that?”

“You touched your cheek.”

Right.

Obviously.

I look away.

“Kyle.”

“Kyle Dawson.”

My head snaps toward him.

“How do you know his last name?”

“I had Sin identify him.”

“You had your bodyguard investigate my boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend.”

I blink.

“Excuse me?”

“The man struck you.”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“Then he is no longer your boyfriend.”

“That isn’t really your decision.”

“No.”

His voice is calm.

Far too calm.

“But I sincerely hope it’s yours.”

I don’t answer.

Because it is.

Of course it is.

There is no universe in which I’m going back to Kyle after what happened.

Except…

Going back.

My stomach sinks.

My apartment.

Technically, our apartment.

Kyle’s name is on the lease.

Most of the furniture is his.

And after last night, the thought of walking through that door makes my skin crawl.

“I need to go.”

Theo’s expression changes.

“No.”

I look at him.

“I wasn’t asking permission.”

“You’re not leaving.”

There is no humor in his voice now.

I stare at him.

“Excuse me?”

“You have a concussion. Vale needs to examine you again. You’re dizzy, you’re injured, and you have nowhere safe to go.”

The last part hits harder than the others.

I bristle anyway.

“You don’t know that.”

“Do you?”

My mouth opens.

Nothing comes out.

Theo watches me.

“Your apartment?”

Kyle.

I look away.

“No.”

“Your parents?”

My chest tightens.

“No.”

“A friend?”

Jamie.

I could call Jamie.

Except Jamie would come immediately.

He’d ask questions.

He’d see my face.

And then I’d have to explain everything.

Kyle cheating.

Kyle hitting me.

Me waking up in Theodore De Luca’s bed wearing his shirt.

Jesus Christ.

“I could figure something out.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I can get a hotel.”

“No.”

My eyes narrow.

“Stop saying no.”

“Then stop suggesting ridiculous things.”

“A hotel is not ridiculous.”

“You have a concussion.”

“I know!”

My voice comes out louder than I intended.

Pain explodes behind my eyes.

I squeeze them shut.

“Fuck.”

“Willa.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are not fine.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.”

“Then stop treating me like I can’t.”

His jaw flexes.

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re standing there telling me where I can and cannot go like you have some kind of authority over me.”

His eyes darken.

“You’re staying here.”

I laugh once.

A sharp, disbelieving sound.

“No, I’m not.”

Something happens.

I don’t know what.

Later, I’ll try to convince myself it was the concussion.

The lighting.

My imagination.

Anything.

But for one impossible second, Theodore De Luca’s eyes change.

Not completely.

They’re still his.

Dark.

Beautiful.

Impossible to read.

Except something moves behind them.

Something ancient.

Something that doesn’t belong in a human face.

The brown seems to disappear beneath a flash of molten gold.

My breath catches.

Theo’s entire body goes still.

So does mine.

The room suddenly feels smaller.

Not because he moves toward me.

He doesn’t.

Not because he threatens me.

He doesn’t do that either.

But every primitive instinct buried inside my body wakes up at once.

Stop.

My mouth closes.

Theo blinks.

His eyes are normal again.

I stare at him.

What the hell was that?

His expression shifts.

The hardness disappears so quickly I almost wonder if I imagined that too.

He takes a deliberate step backward.

Then another.

When he speaks again, his voice is quieter.

“I’m sorry.”

I say nothing.

His eyes search my face.

“I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

My pulse is still racing.

“What just happened?”

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing.”

“You’re concussed.”

My eyes narrow.

“Don’t use my concussion to gaslight me.”

His mouth tightens.

Fair.

He looks away for a moment.

When he looks back, whatever I saw is gone.

“You are free to leave whenever you choose.”

The statement surprises me.

“But I am asking you to stay.”

“That’s not what you said thirty seconds ago.”

“No.”

His jaw flexes.

“It isn’t.”

I wait.

He seems to be fighting with himself.

Then he exhales slowly.

“You have nowhere you need to be today. You shouldn’t be alone, and Vale wants someone monitoring you. Stay here until he clears you.”

I stare down at the blanket.

The problem is…

He’s right.

I hate that.

My apartment isn’t an option.

Not yet.

The idea of seeing Kyle makes my stomach twist.

I could call Jamie, but the thought of explaining everything makes exhaustion settle over me before I’ve even picked up the phone.

A hotel means being alone.

And apparently being alone with a concussion is frowned upon.

I look around the bedroom again.

Then at Theo.

“This is insane.”

“Probably.”

“I barely know you.”

“I know.”

“You’re my interview subject.”

“Yes.”

“You’re also extremely controlling.”

“I’ve been told.”

“By every woman you’ve ever met?”

“Mostly by Vale.”

That almost gets me.

Almost.

I look toward the windows.

The city stretches endlessly beyond them.

I don’t have anywhere else to go.

Not really.

Not somewhere I want to be.

“Just until I’m okay.”

Theo’s expression doesn’t change.

But something in his shoulders releases.

“Until you’re okay.”

“And I’m sleeping in a guest room.”

“No.”

I stare at him.

His mouth twitches.

“The guest rooms are down the hall. Vale instructed me to monitor you closely.”

“So you’re sleeping in here?”

“I won’t be sleeping.”

My brows pull together.

“You didn’t sleep last night.”

“No.”

“At all?”

“No.”

“That’s insane.”

“I don’t require much sleep.”

There’s something strange about the way he says it.

Another little piece that doesn’t quite fit.

I file it away.

“Fine. Then I’ll take the guest room and you can sit outside the door like the world’s creepiest gargoyle.”

His mouth finally curves.

“Compromise.”

“I’m shocked you know the word.”

“I recently learned it.”

“Clearly.”

His smile disappears as quickly as it came.

“Willa.”

“What?”

“You can stay as long as you need.”

The sincerity in his voice makes something ache inside me.

I look away.

“I won’t need long.”

Theo doesn’t answer.

But I can feel him watching me.

And for some reason, I get the strangest feeling that Theodore De Luca already knows something I don’t.

That leaving his penthouse isn’t going to be nearly as simple as I think.

And that whatever flashed behind his eyes a moment ago…

wasn’t my concussion.