He reached for her hand but stopped before he touched her. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m used to working hard.” She licked her lips. “My whole life, I’ve had to clean up after my parents. They’re the exact opposite of me.”
“Lazy?” he asked. “Chaotic? Homely?”
She laughed until she coughed, then shook her head. “I mean, they don’t think about the future. They’re always spending money they don’t have.” She coughed into her palm, then turned her head to the side. “It will never end. They see something they want and spend more than they have. They get someone to lend them money. They overextend themselves. I agree to pay their debt. I work too hard and collapse from exhaustion. They promise not to do it again.” She closed her eyes and heaved a sigh. “I understandthemnot learning, but me?”
“Why don’t you just stop?” he asked. But as soon as he’d said it, he understood why it was impossible. After his maker had made him promise to find his fated mate, he’d committed fifty years of his life to the task, despite constant failure. Even after giving up, he’d still struggled to accept his failure. They were very similar in that respect.
“I wish it were that easy,” she whispered.
He smoothed her hands along his trousers. “When I accepted I was going to die, I started writing a list of things I wanted to accomplish.”
He remembered furiously scribbling in his bedroom, so angry at fate, at everything. He’d decided then he’d do everything he could to enjoy the world while he could.
Kitty chuckled. “What else is on that list, anyway?”
“A handful of activities.” He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want her to know. Perhaps because there were a mere dozen left.
He could have simply paid someone to grant him the experience of shoplifting or sneaking into a brothel, but the prospect didn’t give him the same thrill. What brought him fulfillment was watching Kitty’s reactions to each task. Her shock and pleasure heightened his own.
“Cordon?” she whispered. Her hand moved around on the bed.
He slipped his fingers between hers and squeezed. “I’m here.”
Her expression eased. “Oh. Good.” She sniffed and opened her eyes. They were cloudy again. She was unlikely to remember anything that happened while the fever had her in its grip.
So maybe he could be frank with her.
“This is my fault,” he said. “I should never have tasted your blood. Once I had, I could not resist doing it again.”
Her sightless eyes rolled in their sockets.
He clasped her hand and kissed her fingers. “You noticed at the opera. I should have told you then, but I feared you would not accept what I am.” He inhaled the sharp smell of cherries radiating from her body. When his fangs descended, he parted his lips and gently touched her fingers along the sharp edges, making sure not to pierce her skin.
“You… You…” She coughed. “Impossible.”
He returned her arm to the bed. “If you believe me to be monstrous, I will leave.”
She squeezed his knee. “Don’t go.”
His heart clenched, even though he knew she was only reacting out of instinct. If he had revealed his true nature when she’d been fully conscious, she would have surely run screaming. Few humans reacted well to learning monsters were real. So, as much as it hurt to remain with her, knowing his existence would soon end, he could not leave.
He pressed his lips to her sweaty forehead. “I’ll stay as long as you want.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kitty awoke toa chilly body lying next to her and an arm that felt like it’d had a whole bucket of her sewing needles dropped atop it.
She’d had the strangest dream, that Cordon had apologized for drinking her blood and revealed he had fangs. It was so absurd, she almost laughed. Of course, her brain had conjured a reason for her exhaustion. She almost wished she could believe it. As terrifying as the prospect was, it would’ve been easier to blame him for her state than admit she had worked too hard again.
The only thing she could not regret was asking Cordon to stay with her. She threaded her fingers through his as the window let in a gentle breeze of cool, night air that ruffled his hair. His lips were parted, and his eyes moved beneath her eyelids.
“Wake up,” she said. As beautiful as he was, her arm hurt. She tapped him on the nose. When that didn’t work, she gently ran her nail along his jaw. That seemed to do the trick. His eyelids lifted. He met her gaze and smiled.
“You’re awake.”
“Yes,” she said. “Might I have my arm back?”
