Chapter Six: The Pull of Fate
Eli's pulse pounded in his ears.
The moment Rael stepped inside the bookstore, the world seemed to shrink. The quiet hum of conversation, the rustling of pages, the soft jazz playing over the speakers—all of it faded into the background.
It was just them.
Rael's golden eyes met his, unreadable yet unrelenting. There was no mistaking it now. He wasn't a figment of Eli's dreams. He wasn't some chance encounter in the rain.
He was here. For him.
Eli forced himself to breathe. To move. He gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles white. "Can I help you?" His voice came out steady—too steady for the storm inside him.
Rael tilted his head slightly, as if he found the question amusing. "I believe you can."
The deep timbre of his voice sent an involuntary shiver down Eli's spine. He wasn't sure what he had expected—something ancient, something distant—but the way Rael spoke was unsettlingly intimate. Familiar.
Eli swallowed. "We don't have anything rare or antique, if that's what you're looking for."
Rael stepped closer, his presence nearly suffocating. "I'm looking for something far more valuable."
A flicker of something—recognition? longing?—flashed through Eli's chest, but he shoved it down. He couldn't get lost in this. In him.
"What do you want?"
Rael didn't answer right away. Instead, he studied him with an intensity that made Eli's skin burn. Finally, he murmured, "To see if you remember."
Eli's breath hitched. "Remember what?"
Rael's lips curved slightly, but there was something almost sad in the way he looked at him. As if he already knew the answer.
"Everything."