"You're always pulling me along somewhere or shoving me down onto something," I complained around a mouthful of sausage roll. "We really need to work on your people skills."
He sat down beside me, a familiar scowl settled firmly onto his manly brow. "I am a Dark One, not a person. I do not need people skills."
It was my turn to sigh. I held out the last sausage roll, which he eyed with malevolent suspicion.
"What's wrong, don't like sausage? Or can't you eat food food?"
"I can eat human food if I so desire, but it provides me with no sustenance."
"Well, that answers a question I'd always wondered about vamps—whether or not they were biologically the same as the non-bloodsuckers. I mean, why have the plumbing if you're not going to use it?"
"Plumbing?" he asked, his scowl deepening.
"Yeah, plumbing." I flicked a glance toward his crotch. "I know you have a belly button, and I figured that you have the usual genital accoutrements unless vamps do that differently, but from what I can tell, you're A-OK in that department—not that I've looked or anything—but then there's the back door, and, well, I've just always wondered. I mean, if you don't need it, why have it?"
He stared at me like I had suddenly sprouted buttocks on my head.
I gave a weak smile. "None of the vamp books I've read have ever addressed that issue, so I thought I'd go to the horse's mouth, so to speak."
His eyes lightened to the color of a robin's egg. "You are the strangest woman I have ever met."
"Strange in a good way, or strange as in ought to be locked up for her own safety?"
"I haven't decided yet," he answered, leaning back against the wall, his gaze flickering around at the people nearest us.
I debated saving the last sausage roll versus making myself a pig in front of Adrian, but decided in the end that if I had to do the blood-donor thing again, I'd need all the nourishment I could get. While I ate I watched the man who in such a short amount of time had become increasingly fascinating to me. Although Adrian's body appeared relaxed, his hands resting open on his thighs, I could feel the tension in him. His eyes never rested as they constantly surveyed our surroundings. It struck me that although he'd fed from me, he had probably used most of the energy he'd gained from my blood to heal his wound. I knew he'd stayed awake while I slept on the train, and now here he was almost on point, he was so alert.
"Adrian," I said, putting my hand on his arm to get his attention. He cocked an eyebrow in question, his eyes going sapphire. I lifted my hand, about to ask him if he was going to be all right, but stopped when his eyes went sky blue. I blinked a couple of times, then put my hand back on his arm.
Twin irises of the purest sapphire regarded me with growing confusion.
"This is so cool! Your eyes change color when I touch you. Look!"
I lifted my hand again. Adrian rolled his (summer blue) eyes and started to turn away. I leaned forward and put my hand on his chest, over his heart. His eyes turned navy.
"Hoo! You're like a giant mood ring! I wonder if I can make different colors show up depending where I touch you."
Adrian followed my speculative gaze to his fly, jumping up to stand in front of me in an aggressive pose, arms crossed over his chest, legs spread. "I am not a mood ring! I am not a toy! I am dangerous and feared by all! You are not to treat me in such a flip, irreverent manner—"
I put my hand on his thigh, close to his groin, but not actually touching naughty parts. His eyes turned a dark midnight blue.
"This is so fun!" I giggled, admittedly a bit less than sane after the very strange twenty-four hours I'd spent. "I could touch you all day! I wonder what would happen if I were to kiss you…"
"There will be no more kissing," he answered on a growl. "Kissing leads to the fifth step, and I refuse to go any further."
"Why?" I asked, tipping my head to the side as I gave him a once-over, starting at the mid-calf-high black boots, moving up over the tightly fitting black jeans, the caress of silk across his stomach and chest, to the width of his shoulders as highlighted by the long black duster. I smiled into eyes as black and shiny as onyx. "You said that if I was this Beloved person, I would be able to save your soul. Considering I can't charm that curse that binds you, it seems to me that I'm pretty much your get-out-of-jail-free card. So why aren't you kissing my feet and begging me to save your soul?"
He sighed again and sat down next to me, silent for a few minutes before he said, "You aren't my Beloved. You can't be her. My Beloved does not exist."
Pain, disappointment, and something very much like regret fought for superiority within me. I put my hand on his, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. "You mean she's dead? I'm so sorry, Adrian. I had no idea. You must have been devastated."
He looked down to where my fingers gently caressed his, not saying anything, but I saw the sorrow in his eyes. I looked away, but from my peripheral vision I examined the red pattern that twisted around his torso. Even if I wanted to charm the curse, I knew it would be beyond my embryonic skills, skills that had been stunted before they even had a chance to grow. There was no way I could do what he wanted, but now it seemed I didn't even have to make the choice about whether or not I wanted to bind myself to him in order to salvage his soul.
Which was a shame, because despite his fierce appearance and gruesome reputation, I was beginning to believe he was a man well worth saving.
"She did not die."
"I'm a little confused," I said slowly, still stroking his fingers. "She didn't die, but there is no one for you? I saw into you, really deep into you, remember, and you don't have a soul. If this woman didn't die, what happened to her?"
"Nothing," he said, his voice rough with emotion. His hand twisted under mine so that our fingers were twined. "My Beloved does not exist because I am not allowed to have one. To have a Beloved would imply that there is hope for me, and I can assure you from many centuries of experience, hope is one grace that has forsaken me."
"You can't say that," I said again, at a loss as to what I could do to relieve the pain shadowing his beautiful eyes. How could I make him believe I was his hope when I myself wasn't sure I wanted to take on that role? "Adrian, I really wish I could help you, I honestly do. But as I told you back at the castle, I can't charm. You saw what happened when I drew that ward—something I truly didn't know I remembered—but it's pretty clear to me that my brain does not want me messing around with all that woo-woo stuff. I know you're hoping I'll lift the curse, but I can't. I wish I could, but I can't."
"You have the ability," he insisted, his fingers tightening on mine. "You have the power. I see it in you. You are frightened, but it is a foolish emotion. No," he said, forestalling me as I was about to protest his high-handed dictates. "There is nothing to debate—you must charm the curse. There is no other alternative."
"You can't make me charm the curse," I pointed out. "I don't remember much from the few times I chatted with my friend's Wiccan aunt who told me I was gifted with special abilities, but I do clearly remember her saying that I had to want to use my skills in order for them to work. You can't force me."
"I can, and I will. I do not wish to force you to do anything, but about this, I am immovable. It is too important." His grip on my fingers was painful, but the agony in his eyes made my heart bleed. Through the touch of our hands I could feel the need within him, the endless torment that filled him with blackness, a torment that he was confident I could end. I shivered at the silent desperation in his eyes, turning my head so I could look away.