Descent (Black Heart Romance presents Heaven & Hell)

“I better be,” I say lightly, forgetting I never told him what my job is. There’s little point holding
back now, so I explain, “I illustrate children’s books for a living.”
“Ah.” He nods, meeting my gaze as we move through the tomb. “An artist.” When I nod, he asks,
“Is that what you wanted to do?”
“More or less. I love helping other people bring their stories to life for children to enjoy, but
someday it would be nice to illustrate for myself. Maybe write my own books. I don’t know, I’m
always working on project after project, so there’s never really time.” Somewhat uncomfortable
sharing this ambition I’ve never shared with anyone before, I try to change the subject. “What were
you like as a child?”
“Odd,” he says dryly.
I bite back a smile as I take the lead around the next corner. “You? Odd? I can’t imagine.”
“I wasn’t all that creative, but I was observant. Curious. I was always watching the world
around me, trying to make sense of it. I didn’t really fit in with other kids. I had plenty of surfacelevel
friends, but I think they made me feel lonelier than I probably would have without any.”
Hearing that drains the trace of amusement I felt when I asked. “Oh. Loneliness is no fun. I’m
sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not,” he says, his tone cavalier as he catches me around the waist and presses me against
the wall.
I brace my hands on the hard surface, sucking in a breath as my heart rate accelerates. He only
holds me for a moment, though. Just long enough to get past me so he’s in the lead.
“Made me who I am today,” he finishes, a hint of pleasure in his tone because he startled me.
I swallow and dust off the front of my dress even though I’m sure it’s fine. “You shouldn’t press
people against walls in ancient tombs.”
“I saw you wanting to touch it a minute ago, but you stopped yourself. Now you’ve touched it,”
he says, flashing me a devilish smirk over his shoulder.
He’s right, but I shake my head at him. “You just wanted to be in front.”
He doesn’t bother arguing.
We finish exploring the tomb, then make our way through the Egyptian art displays. The guard he
mentioned comes into view as we check out buttons and tiles unearthed by archeologists.
“Are they afraid we’ll steal them?” I whisper as I gaze at a small blue bead with a slightly
warped face that seems surprised or afraid.
“Perhaps. Maybe the whole date’s a ruse and I’m an art thief,” he teases. “Impressing you is just
my cover story.”
My cheeks warm and I find myself smiling even though I shouldn’t. “I can definitely see you