I know he’s trying to reassure me, but he wasn’t there when the death warrant was signed. It all happened long before he was born.
“And you’re wrong,” he says slowly as though he’s beginning to become lost in the sensations of touching me. “They won’t hate you. Once they see how strong you are, how brave, how much you care for others—they’ll love you as I do.”
“But love’s not enough. It doesn’t hold you. You keep telling me we can’t be together.”
“And each time we’re together, it’s getting harder to separate.”
He skims his lips across my temple. It’s as though each cell comes to life. I lean into him, drawn to the promise of pleasure. His mouth covers mine, his tongue sweeps inside. Warmth spirals through me, pools in the pit of my stomach. My toes curl. Suddenly it’s like he’s kissing all of me.
As I shift around until I’m stretched out on the couch, he follows my movements, never breaking from the kiss. Although we’ve slept in the same bed, he’s always done little more than hold me near, but I sense that his restraint might be slipping. I know he wants me. I want him. But giving into temptation will complicate our relationship further, would prove a distraction when we need to concentrate on destroying Sin. Still, I can’t give up the hope that when all this is over, we’ll have time to truly explore our feelings for each other.
Drawing back, he rubs his fingers in circles over my cheeks, his gaze holding mine. “I wish I could hold you while you sleep.”
I give him an impish smile. “We could sleep here.”
“You deserve a bed and a good day’s rest.” He rolls off me, holds out his hand.
Reluctantly, I let him pull me to my feet.
“I have faith in you,” he tells me. “You’ll impress the Council.”
“And if I don’t?”
“We’ll have to overthrow them because they’re obviously idiots.”
Victor’s teasing words stay with me as I go into the bedroom I’m sharing with Faith. Okay, it looks like we’re also sharing a bed. A big one, but still . . .
I expected her to be asleep by now. Instead with her back against all the pillows, she’s sitting up in a slinky red silk tank and boxer shorts. She doesn’t look up from the romance novel she’s reading, which must seem more like an instructional manual to her than a story. I grab my duffel bag, go into the bathroom, and change into my flannel pants and tank top. When I step back into the room, she glances over and rolls her eyes as though I pulled my clothes out of the trash bin.
“Be sure you stay on your side of the bed. I don’t want flannel touching me.”
I suppose with her sensitive skin, silk feels a thousand times better. “It’s soft,” I say defensively.
“Whatever.” She turns her attention back to the book.
I climb onto the bed, tuck my legs beneath me. “So what happened with you and Richard? I know you guys have a past.”
She closes the book and glares at me. “What is this—one of those girl bonding things that you humans do?”
“I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.”
“There’s nothing to understand.” She rolls over, turns down the gas lamp, and buries herself beneath the covers.
Although we have a dim light, my eyesight is sharper. I can clearly see her outline.
“Do you really like Xavier?” I ask.
“Of course not.”
“Then why dance with him?”
“Because he was our host. It would have been rude not to.”
Faith always tries to be hard and uncaring, but I sense vulnerability in her. “When we were in Los Angeles, I saw your face when Richard leapt through the window with Sin.” It was a fall from a height that would have killed a human. “You were terrified, worried about him. You have strong feelings for him.”
“Let it go, Dawn.”
But I can’t. I care about Richard. I know he’s hurting. I think Faith might be as well. “You once said something about a night you shared together . . . when was it? A hundred years ago?”
“Ninety-eight, but who’s counting?”
“Obviously you. And Richard.”
That seems to get her attention.
“When I first met him,” I say, “I was with Victor. And so much was happening in the city, and we had no idea what was going on, and Victor was planning to overthrow his father, and you know what Richard asked? He asked if you were okay.”
With a long-suffering sigh, she sits up. “You’re like a little parakeet I once had. It kept chewing on its cage, on the exact same spot, for two years. It drove me mad, so one night I opened the cage and the bird flew away. Do you know what happened next?”
“What?”
“The thing came back and kept chewing.”
I laugh a little.
“I know you care about him,” I say.
“The parakeet?”
“No. Richard.”
“Don’t be silly. I can’t. I won’t.” She studies me for a moment. “We should do something special with your hair before we go to see the Council.”
“Faith.” Reaching across, I grab her hands, feel her tense up, see her eyes widen in alarm, but I’m not going to let go.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, and I wonder if she ever lets anyone truly touch her. Not in the flirtatious way that Xavier did, but in a comforting way.
“You can confide in me,” I tell her.
“You’re human. You have emotions. You’d never understand.”
“Try me.”
“We can’t love.”
“You love Victor.”
“No. I . . . he’s my brother. I don’t want him to do something that will get him killed, that’s all.”
“Because you care about him. That’s love. What happened that night with Richard?”
She shakes her head, squeezes my hands. “He was sweet.”
“Go on,” I prod.
“We . . . he was my first. Oh, hell, he’s been my only, but don’t you dare tell him that.”
She looks totally disgruntled.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I assure her.
“It better be. I can take you out without even mussing up my hair.”
I don’t think I’d go down that easy, but I’m not going to fall for her change in topic. “So you regret that you were together?”
“Of course I do.”
I wrinkle my nose. “He wasn’t any good?”
“Richard’s good at everything. But that night I was so nervous. He was tender, gentle, made me feel safe.” She rolls her eyes. “Then he spoiled it all by telling me that he loved me.”
“And you didn’t believe him? Faith, I’ve seen the way he looks at you—”
“No, I did believe him. That’s why . . . I want forever and we don’t get that.”
I stare at her, trying to make sense of her words. “You don’t die. Of course, you get forever.”
“Not when it comes to love. Don’t you see? He won’t love me forever, and when he casts me aside, it’ll hurt. It’s better not to fall into that whirlpool of emotions.”
“So you’re scared.”
“I’m practical. My mother was cast aside. Victor’s mother was cast aside. Sin’s.”
“Maybe Richard loves you enough to hold you forever.”
“But what if he doesn’t?”
“Sometimes you just have to take a chance.”
“Yeah, well, right now, I think I’m taking enough chances. You are aware, aren’t you, that we might not leave this city alive?” She pulls free of my hold, lies down, and presents her back to me. “And I need my beauty sleep.”
“You know, Faith,” I say quietly, “vampires and humans—we’re not so different. We all want to be loved forever. It’s scary to trust someone with our hearts, but if we don’t . . . loneliness can hurt, too.”
She doesn’t say anything. Sliding under the covers, I stare at the darkness hovering around the edges of the room. So much is at stake tomorrow, but I somehow manage to slip into the black and fall asleep.