Page 68 of Manhattan State of Mind

“Do I know you?” I somehow find my voice, though it comes out husky and low.

He tilts his head, considering. For a long moment, I don’t think he’s going to respond.

“Do you?” he finally counters in a gravelly tone.

“Don’t toy with me,” I warn, my voice wavering. “I’m in no state for mind games. Who are you, really?”

I stare up at him, my breaths coming quick and shallow.

He dips even closer and I sense the smirk beneath his mask. “Today, I’m just Daredevil.” A pause lingers. “Seems you were having some… impure thoughts about me.”

Caught off guard, my eyes flicker down to the page in front of me. There’s Polly Photon, boldly straddling Death-Defying Devil in his blue and red suit.

Cheeks burning, I shut the comic book.

He takes another step closer until only inches separate us. The heat pouring off his body washes over me, smelling of spice and raw masculinity. My nerves are a live wire, body tingling with hyper-awareness of this stranger. Is this a dream? Has my far-fetched fantasy come to life?

“Listen,” I stammer, “this is going to sound crazy, but I’ve lost my memory. Did we… did something happen between us?”

Silence falls. A silence so fraught with tension I can barely breathe. I feel his eyes on me, seeing all of me while I see nothing. I feel exposed. Vulnerable.

“Something incredible happened between us,” he finally murmurs.

My grip tightens on the book. “But it ended?”

Another silence, fraught and foreboding. My nerves wind tighter with each second.

“You come here to escape, to pretend to be someone else for the day,” he finally says. “Why not pretend with me? Step into Miss Nova’s shoes, just for a moment. Experience the reality of your fantasy.”

I stare up at him, pulse pounding. Jesus, this guy is evasive. “Do you like Miss Nova?”

“More than anyone else in the world,” he replies, voice filled with dark promise.

I want to know if he’s smiling under that mask.

My throat constricts. “What’s so appealing about her?”

“There’s a strength that’s more than just physical in her,” he responds, his voice low and guarded. “She confronts whatever comes her way - never backing down, always thinking on her feet. She can roll with the punches, take things in stride that would crush most people.What captivates me is her spirit. Her beautiful resilience.”

His words hang between us, filled with unspoken meaning. I shake off the strange ache in my chest at his praise, warning bells clamoring in my mind.

“But she was hurt, wasn’t she?” I whisper. “By Daredevil?”

Another unbearable loaded silence.

“Yes.”

The ache in my chest blossoms into real pain. Real pain even though I don’t understand its source. Memories buried deep surface, instinct warning me of impending danger. This man is a threat. He’s inflicted pain before. He will again.

I take a shuddering breath and force the words out. “Why did you hurt me?”

“Because I destroy the good in my life,” he says coarsely. “But I regret it. More than anything.”

The room seems to sway around me. “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t trust you.”

“You should.” It’s said without hesitation. His sigh is audible even through the mask. “Do you want me to remove my mask?”

“Yes. No. God, I don’t know. This is freaking me out.”