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They learned they were really different—no surprise there. He'd grown up in Brooklyn and Manhattan. Boulder was the biggest city she'd ever lived in. He had brothers, she was an only child. He was raised Eastern Orthodox, and admitted to going to church at Christmas and Easter. That flipped her out. Christian vampires. She came from generations of sturdy, practical Midwesterners who avoided church like the plague. More than anything else she learned how important family was to him. Another man might have talked about his career, his toys, his accomplishments. Alex talked about his family. He made his family life sound like a wacky ethnic sitcom—one that involved occasional exsanguinations. And in turn, she ended up talking more about her parents than she had in the past year. As she did, she could almost imagine them taking their places around the table to have their say. What would they think of Alex?

They ended dinner as they had started it, together, with tiny cups. This time they were filled with dark liquid chocolate infused with mint.

"You can eat this?"

He quirked a smile. "I can have about one tablespoon of chocolate. Believe me, I've tested my limits."

"I feel bad. I'm stuffed with good food that you didn't get to eat."

He rested his chin in his hand and thought about his answer. "I enjoyed making this food so much, and watching you enjoy it. It don't think it could get any better. I don't feel like I'm missing anything."

"But you must be hungry."

"That's a different question."

"It is," she agreed, suddenly sad. "When are you going home?"

"You tell me. I can stay at the hotel for a while. My laptop is all the office I need. What I mean is, would you like to see me again? Maybe go somewhere next time?"

"You mean go on a date?"

He nodded, his eyes turning so intense she had to look away. "I made a mistake when I came here. I should have started with a date just like this one. What I'm saying is that I'd like to start over."

"Tonight was lovely."

"But."

"But you're not looking for a date. You've laid your cards on the table. You want a wife. You want to make me into a vampire. I can't do that. I can't attack people. I can't give up lying on the beach, eating popcorn at movies, pumpkin pie. A billion things."

"You don't have to convert for us to be together."

"You're saying you don't want kids?" Helena shrugged her shoulders. She knew he did. And he'd be a good dad, she bet. But with someone else. "You'd say you were content, but deep down you'd want me to change. I used to live with a man who wanted me to be something else. It was hell."

"I'm not Jeff."

"No, but—" Helena broke off, startled. "How do you know about him?"

Alex fiddled with his cup. "I see things. Sometimes."

"You read my mind?"

"No. I just see things. Random things. Dreams. Memories."

Helena narrowed her eyes. "Wait a minute. The train dream. Were you in it? Was that you? Oh my God."

"It was my dream." He kicked back in his chair and folded his arms. "You barged in. And you came all dressed-up for the occasion." He bit his lip in amusement and managed to look lascivious while he did it.

"That's not…I didn't…those weren't my clothes."

"There's no sense in denying that we desire one another. It's going to come out in our dreams."

"But you knew it was me. I mean, that we were sharing a dream. But I didn't know. I thought I was having my own private dream. Don't you see why that's creepy?"

"How am I to know what you want? You weren't acting like you wanted me to wake you up."

"You could guess. You know I have issues about this kind of thing. About you taking things without asking."

"That dream was spectacular. Best of my life. I'm not ashamed of it. I won't apologize for it."

"You're unbelievable, Alexander Faustin."

"No, you're unbelievable. How many chances do we get at love, Helena? And you're going to get all nitpicky about 'your boundaries'."

"Nitpicky?" Helena threw down her napkin, images of blood orgies in her mind, nights without dawns, weird Russian vampires that invaded her dreams at will. This was not nit-picking.

Alex leaned forward, his face bright with passion. "I hate what he's done to you. I should have found you six years ago."

"This isn't about Jeff. It's about you. It's about you being a vampire. Don't you get that?"

"This is about control. You don't trust yourself, so you're afraid to trust anyone."

"Trust is earned."

"Then let me earn it."

Helena held his gaze as long as she could. It never wavered. He didn't even blink. She gave up and leaned back in her chair, sad and tired. A long silent minute stretched between them.

I'm not scared. I'm reasonable. I know what I can do and can't do and it's not fair to let him hope.

But did she know? Was she sure? Could she send him packing tonight and not wonder about him the rest of her life? As much as it frightened her, the answer was no.

What I need is more data. Facts. Other sources.

Alex got up. "Would you like some coffee?"

"How would you make me into a vampire?"

He sat back down, carefully, like there were eggs on his chair. "Well, we'd share blood."

"I'd bite you?" A sudden image of him on the train, his neck thrown back, flashed before her eyes.

"At first you'd drink from cuts. Your blood changes mine, but mine changes yours more. Slowly you'd become like me." He grimaced in frustration. "I'm not describing it well. It's not so much about your body changing, it's about us becoming one. We see into one another, all our secrets, all our fears, and we accept one another despite all that. No, because of all that. Look, let's put it this way. My pop is a tough old SOB and the only time I've ever seen him tear up was when he told me about how he and Ma bonded."

"So you're saying all this mutual blood sucking is very romantic."

He nodded.

"And pleasurable."

"Hell yes."

"And just how do you feed from a lover?"

"Little bites. Tiny little bites on the pulse points."

She thrust her wrist at him. "Show me."

His eyes darted suspiciously between her face and her wrist. "You want me to feed from you?"

"Just show me how you do it. Just a little. So I get the idea."

Alex swallowed and nodded. "For it to feel right you have to be relaxed." He moved his chair next to hers and took her hand. "You're so stiff."

So are you, she thought. Both of them were tense as cats. "It's hard to relax when I know you're going to bite me."

"It won't be like in the basement. Not at all." He stroked her fingers one by one and massaged the webbing between them. As he worked, his hands softened and his movements fell into a soothing rhythm. "I'm so sorry that happened. You've seen the worst of me, over and over."

"Have I?"

"I don't have any more dark secrets if that's what you mean."

His strong hands traveled up her forearm, his thumbs methodically rubbing away all points of tension. He paused to roll her sleeve up high, and continued this slow assault until her entire arm went heavy and lax in his hands. Her eyelids drooped with wine and fullness.

Maybe it was okay to let go sometimes.

When she was close to sleep he kissed the knuckles of her hand, and then turned it over to kiss the palm. "You have beautiful fingers," he whispered as he kissed the tip of each one. All the while, his thumb circled her palm.

She grew warm between the legs, as if there were a line of communication between her palm and her clit. His mouth closed over the first joint of her little finger and he sucked hard. Helena gasped with pleasure. He moved to her ring finger. This one he circled with his rough tongue. She imagined it was her nipple. Her middle finger he licked like a piece of candy, drawing his tongue in spiraling circles up and down its length. Helena watched with hooded eyes, fascinated, intrigued. Alex was rapt. He savored her fingers as she'd savored his food.