How many of them did you mind-talk with?
He withdrew—not physically, but mentally—but before he did I got a sense of shock as he realized the truth.
"So that's five and six done. One's left, right? What's that?"
Deep within him, emotions warred so strongly I felt them even with a few feet between us. "The seventh step is an exchange of blood."
"Blood, huh? I'm not into that, but I suppose if it doesn't have to be a bloodfest, I could tolerate it. Let's do it."
He gave me a look like I'd just suggested he strip naked and dance on the roof of the car. "You can't be serious."
"Sure I am. If it will get you back your soul, then it would be worth it to me to put up with a little blood."
"You have no idea what you're saying," he sputtered.
"In fact, I do. But according to you, I'm not your Beloved, so it shouldn't matter. I think. What happens if we do the seventh step and I'm not your Beloved?"
"Nothing happens, but you aren't—" he started to say.
I took his hand and pulled off my jacket the Celtic cross brooch my mother had given me for Easter. Before waiting for him to protest, I jabbed the tip of his finger with the pin, taking the end of his finger into my mouth to suck off the bead of blood that appeared there.
"Sam, no!" he yelled as I wrinkled my nose at the coppery taste of blood.
"Seventh step," I said, putting my thumb over the spot on his finger to stop the bleeding. I squinted at him, surprised to see that nothing looked different about him. "Um. Does it take a while for your soul to come back?"
"It would be instantaneous if you were my Beloved," he said, pulling his hand back.
"Oh. Rats."
"Rats?" he asked, looking a bit surprised. I didn't blame him—I felt a bit surprised by my disappointment that I hadn't turned out to be his Beloved after all.
"Yeah. I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I really thought I could."
The silver light in his eyes narrowed. "You want to become my Beloved?"
"No, not really." Pain flashed over his face so quickly I wasn't sure if I really saw it or was projecting. "That is, I want to help you. I like you, Paen. I like you a lot. I know you pooh-pooh any sort of emotional attachment in your lovers, but some level of it is important to me. I care about you. And I'd like for you to have a soul. So in that sense, yes, I was willing to be your Beloved in order to do that. But if you're asking if I'm madly in love with you…" I bit my lip.
"Well?" he asked, trying not to look interested but failing badly. Evidently he realized that as well because he gave up the pretence. "Are you madly in love with me?"
"I am not head over heels in love with you, no," I said carefully, honesty being one of my rules. I avoided thinking about the fact that chances were good I was soon going to be in that state.
"Ah." Deep within him, for just a second or two, disappointment added to the blackness that threatened to engulf him. "That's good. I'm not in love with you, either. But as for the other… er… I like you as well."
"Right. So we're both on the same channel, then." Ahead of us, the cop waved the car in front and us through the intersection. Paen shifted, a tiny frown pulling his eyebrows together.
"Exactly."
"And I'm not your Beloved."
He was silent for a second longer than I thought he would be. "That's correct."
"Sorry about stabbing your finger."
He made a little gesture waving it away. "It's nothing."
Silence filled the car as we made our way down Princes Street and turned onto the street where my office was located. I directed him to the loading zone spot along the side that Mila had told us we could use.
"You sit tight and I'll go unlock the side door," I said, pointing to the unmarked door along the side of the building. "It's faster than going in the front way, and if you run, you shouldn't get too much more sun."
"Thank you," he said, his eyes brightening as I caressed his cheek.
"You're still a bit sunburned," I said, rubbing my thumb on his cheekbone.
"It was worth it," he said with a hint of a grin, and something within me burst into glorious existence.
"Yes, it was." I got out of the car before he noticed that I was being flooded with strong emotion.
"You are not falling in love with him, so stop thinking you are," I lectured myself sternly as I marched over to the door and unlocked it. I waved at Paen, holding the door open as he jumped out of his car and bolted toward me. "He's a vampire. You can't save him. He doesn't believe in love. He's totally wrong for you, totally—ack!"
Call it elf sense, call it heightened awareness, call it Sally if you like, but something sent my peripheral awareness into overdrive as Paen ran toward me. The world suddenly downshifted into first gear, time expanding so that everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Paen loped across the tiny parking area, his hat angled to protect him from the sun. Beyond him, a dark-haired, familiar man rose from where he'd been hiding behind a large square trash bin, his arm swinging up in a slow arc as he shouldered a lethal-looking crossbow, turning his body so the metal bolt was aimed to intersect Paen's path. Next to him, clinging to the trash bin, a small spider monkey in a green striped suit sat busily unwrapping what looked like the remains of a candy bar.
"Noooo!" I screamed, even my voice sounding drawn out as I threw myself forward. I intended to push Paen out of the way of the bolt, but as I lunged toward him, my feet leaving the ground in a leap of distance they would never again surpass, the thought flashed through my mind that despite having just met him, despite the fact that he alternately aroused and frustrated me, despite the fact that we were clearly not in the least bit suited for one another—despite all that, I was willing to do whatever it took to save him.
Even at the cost of my own life.
Paen yelled my name as the bolt slammed into my shoulder, knocking me backward, flinging me up against the concrete side of the building. Hot, sickening pain swept through me, causing the world to spin off its axis. Paen roared something I couldn't make out, catching me before I slid helplessly down to the ground.
The last thing I saw before blissful oblivion took me in its arms was Paen's face, his eyes so dark they looked black.
"You've got your soul back," I said.
Chapter 11
"Well, all I can say is it's lucky you're immortal." The voice cut into the black abyss in which I was floating. It was female, familiar, with a posh English accent… ah. It was Clare speaking. To whom was she speaking, I wondered?
"Hrng," a voice answered her. It, too, was female and familiar. I racked my brain for a moment to place the voice, realizing with a shock it was mine. "Narf ?"
"You see? I told you she would be fine. Elves can survive all sorts of injuries." Clare's voice was rife with authority. "You're worrying about nothing, Paen."
A dark Scottish voice rumbled around in my head, deep as the ocean and soft as velvet. Sam? How do you feel?
Confused, I answered, smiling at the voice. When did you drop Samantha and start calling me Sam?
He sighed. Is that really important?
Kind of. It's a sign of intimacy.
Sweetheart, we've been about as intimate as it gets, and you're making a big deal about a word?
You called me sweetheart! I said, my toes curling with sudden pleasure.
"I can see that I am worrying about nothing. Sam, you can open your eyes now. The bolt is out of your shoulder."
Bolt. Shoulder. The man who tried to kill Paen!
"Ack!" I squawked, my eyelids snapping open as I sat up. "Paen, are you—holy moly! What happened to you?"