“We didn’t know ourselves until the last few decades when DNA and gene mapping were tackled by scientists and members of the medical community.”
“That must have been tough, being different without knowing why.”
“Actually, the why of it remains a mystery. It is only the how that we have finally come to understand.”
Her salad soon a thing of the past, she slipped her first forkful of the eggplant Parmesan between her lips, closed her eyes, chewed, and hummed in ecstasy. “Man, this is good. I love eggplant Parmesan but don’t know how to cook it.”
Roland’s gaze fell to her lips, the gentle motions of her throat as she swallowed. “Perhaps you would like to join me the next time I prepare it.”
“I’d love to,” she answered without hesitation, seemingly unaware of how her easy acceptance of his rare invitation affected him.
“So what did you find out? How are you different from the rest of us?”
It took him a moment to recover. “Apparently, every human being has forty-six DNA memo groups that provide the blueprints for their existence. Our scientists have discovered that those of us who were gifted ones have seven thousand.”
Chapter 8
Sarah stared at Roland as he forked a piece of eggplant into his mouth and chewed. “Seven thousand?”
He nodded and took a drink of tea.
“And the rest of us only have forty-six.”
“Yes.”
“All of us.”
“Yes.”
“You have seven thousand.”
He ate another piece of eggplant.
“How is that possible?”
“We don’t know.”
Her mind raced as she savored the delicious meal. There didn’t seem to be that many explanations.
“I feel a little weird asking this,” she said hesitantly, “but is it possible you guys are aliens?”
“As in extraterrestrials?”
“Yes.”
“Some have suggested as much, that perhaps we are the descendants of aliens who either crashed or came to Earth, seeking a new home.”
Wow. “You sound like you don’t believe that’s the case.”
He shrugged. “It just seems like we’d know if such were true. Wouldn’t the aliens have wanted their children and future generations to know why they’re different, what planet their ancestors came from? Wouldn’t they have told them and passed the story down from generation to generation?”
“I would have.”
“Other immortals hypothesize that there have always been two species of humans living on Earth. Those who believe in evolution ask why humans would not evolve into separate species. Animals certainly have.”
“And creationists?”
“Creationists point out that, in the Bible, when Cain slew Abel and was banished, he went to live in the land of Nod and was marked by God so those he met there would not kill him as punishment for murdering his brother. There was no information given regarding the inhabitants of Nod. Until then, the only humans mentioned were Adam and Eve and their children. But clearly there were others on the planet. Some speculate that those were the gifted ones.”
Sarah had only read the Bible from cover to cover once and tried to remember Cain’s fate. “You’re right. There were other people. I had forgotten that.”
“Who we are is anybody’s guess,” he went on. “Alien race? Separate species? Either would explain why our gifts have lessened over the centuries, why younger immortals have fewer gifts than older ones. The bloodline has been diluted over the millennia as a result of procreating with humans, the gifts weakened. Some, we know, have been lost altogether.”
“What about the older immortals? Who is the eldest amongst you?”
“That would be Seth.”
“Doesn’t he know why you’re different?”
He hesitated. His gaze slid toward the guest room, making her wonder if perhaps he was debating telling her something he didn’t want Marcus to hear. “He refuses to speculate.”
“I sense a but in there.”
He smiled faintly. “But he knows. He confessed as much to me when I was … at a particularly low point in my existence and questioned him on the subject. I think he didn’t want to add to my disappointment.”
She couldn’t help but wonder what that low point was. “What did he say?”
“That revealing the truth inevitably leads to a great deal of bloodshed, so he has resolved to keep his counsel.”
She frowned. That not only sucked, it raised more questions.
“I don’t imagine he will change his mind after so many millennia, so I doubt we’ll ever learn the truth.”
Sarah rested her hand on his muscular forearm. “I’m sorry, Roland. I hope he does change his mind. I can tell it troubles you.”
He covered her hand with his own. “Thank you.” His thumb caressed her knuckles, speeding her pulse.
When she dampened her lips, his gaze dropped to follow the delicate swipe of her tongue. His grip on her hand tightened.
He leaned forward.
She held her breath.
“I take it I missed dinner?” A voice spoke from the dining room’s entrance.
Sarah and Roland sprang apart.
Marcus, clean but clad in his dirty clothes, raised one ebony eyebrow.
Roland cleared his throat. “I thought you were sleeping.”
Marcus nodded to their empty plates. “Got any more of that?”
“In the oven. Still warm.”
“Thanks.”
Marcus headed into the kitchen.
From his position at the table, Roland could see him opening and closing cabinets and drawers in search of plates, flatware, and a glass.
Her back to the kitchen, Sarah turned her gaze to the table-top near him.
Roland glanced down to see if he had spilled something and saw nothing amiss. “What is it?”
Surprising him, she took the hand that had just been stroking her own and studied the mottled dark pink scars that marred it. There were two: one where the spike had entered and another where it had exited.
As she drew the fingers of her free hand gently across his skin, a sensual tingle raced up his arm. He could not seem to get enough of her touch, no matter how casual or innocent.
“I can’t believe how quickly you heal.”
“All immortals do after the transformation. But I was like this before, when I was human. It’s part of the gifts I was born with.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Marcus open the refrigerator door, extract a bag of blood from the meat compartment, and close it again. The bag rattled faintly when he lifted it to his lips and sank his fangs into it.
Roland sent Marcus a scowl, not wanting him to feed in front of Sarah. (Vampirism was easier to accept when the more unpleasant aspects of it weren’t tossed in one’s face at every turn.)
Marcus shrugged.
Sarah gripped Roland’s hand more firmly. Though her eyes were wide when they met his, indicating she had guessed what Marcus was doing, she didn’t turn around to look.
“Is he drinking blood?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“Out of a bag?”
“Yes.” Her expression lent him no hint of her thoughts.
“How do you feel about that?”
Even Marcus contemplated her curiously now, awaiting her response.
“I don’t know. Does blood taste as gross as I think it does?”
He fought a smile. “Do you remember what I told you about its scent?”
She nodded. “You said it smelled as good to you as chocolate does to me.”
“The same holds true for the taste. Immortals and vampires find it very appealing.”
“Hmm.”
Marcus tossed the empty bag into the trash. After filling his plate, he carried it, the utensils, and his glass into the dining room and sat across from Sarah.