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“He was able to, he just chose not to. He found it disconcerting to have a voice after so many years as an animal, so he decided to stay silent.”
“He will make a good fighter, that one.”
“Mm-hmm. Pamphrock’s already got him doing a little work with Finn. I imagine he’s grooming him to join the DOH.”
“Of course he is. I’m no admirer of Pamphrock’s, but any leader with a decent head on his shoulders would see the potential that man holds. He has the build of a warrior, and I sense a wisdom about him.”
Ethan’s words make me feel sad. Ira’s already suffered enough in his life. He doesn’t deserve to be pushed into spending the rest of his days fighting for a cause that has nothing to do with him. Shivering against the cold, I pull the collar of my coat up around my neck.
Seeing this, Ethan leaves his spot by the cave wall to come and sit down beside me. With no effort at all, he scoops me up and places me on his lap.
“You’re cold,” he says in a low voice. “Let me warm you.”
“Sure,” I say, raising an eyebrow at his unexpected chivalry. I’d thought that was reserved solely for Oxford professors and generally anyone who isn’t me. His moods are changing like a yo-yo tonight.
Being so close to him makes my heart pound like it always does at his proximity. No matter how much I try to stay strong, one touch from Ethan reduces me to a quivering mess. I want to stay away from him, yet that very fact makes me want him so much more. It’s almost like the fact that I once had his love means I’m forever cursed to crave getting it back. The problem is, being with him makes me weak, vulnerable. He’s the piece of rope that I’ll always end up hanging myself with.
He wraps his arms around me, takes my hands into his and begins rubbing them. Contrary to popular belief, vampires aren’t cold at all. They actually tend to be a little warmer than humans. Not dead, remember? Just another species.
“Is there something between you and the slayer?” Ethan asks, after a few quiet moments of warming my hands with his own. His breath lingers against the back of my neck.
“Would you care if there was?”
“That’s not an answer, Tegan.”
“No it’s not, but it’s a relevant question. You’ve made it clear that you no longer have any interest in me, so why would you even think to ask about Finn?”
“I was making conversation,” he grits out the words, his hold on me tightening.
“Yeah, making conversation about a pretty specific topic.”
“Your evasiveness leads me to believe there is something between the two of you.” I didn’t think his voice could get any colder – I was wrong.
I shrug, deciding to drop the evasiveness. “Finn’s been a great friend to me. I like him. He makes me feel good about myself – most of the time.”
I hate that he’s brought up Finn. My emotions are spread out between these two men. One side of my heart says pick Finn, he will love you as need to be loved, while the other side says go to Ethan; he is beautiful, dangerous, addictive, you want him.
“And how do I make you feel about yourself?” Ethan questions.
Oh my God, he is so clearly jealous. This is brilliant, but also unsettling. I can’t believe we’re talking about this. I can’t believe stoic, reserved Ethan is letting his feelings trickle out. I had very recently written off the relationship we might have had, and now he throws this spanner in the works.
“These days you make me hate myself,” I tell him honestly.
“That’s a very extreme reaction,” he observes.
“Yeah well, you’ve been extremely hostile. In fact, you’ve gone out of your way to make me miserable.”
“How so?” he asks, not with curiosity, but more with the intention of seeing himself through my eyes. It’s almost like he wants to know that I’ve been suitably punished for “betraying” him. That I’ve been feeling sufficiently shitty under his icy hatred.
“Well, let me see. You wouldn’t speak to me up until recently and would barely even look at me, for one. You’ve been trying to get Rita on your side and you know how that irritates me. She’s my friend, not some pawn you can use to your advantage. Not to mention you moved yourself in right across the street so that I have to live under your constant disa-fucking-proval. Quite frankly, it’s been depressing and exhausting.”
“I see.”
“And that! Do you know how much I can’t stand those reserved, unemotional responses you give to things? It’s like you don’t even feel anything inside that inhuman body.”
“I feel everything. I am simply old enough to practice some self-control and not expose my feelings for the world to see.”
“Oh, so you’re saying I don’t know self-control?”
