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Skye wanted him to stay as badly as she’d ever wanted anything. But right now it felt like she might do reckless things, without thinking, only to escape the fear beating within her like a second pulse.
“Are you okay?” Balthazar said. Only then did she realize she’d begun trembling again. She didn’t know if that was from fright, tension, exhaustion, desire—all of them together—just that there was only so much she could take in a couple of days, and she’d taken it.
She reached out blindly with one hand, and Balthazar’s arms went around her, enveloping her in his embrace. Skye didn’t cry, didn’t speak. Instead she gripped the lapels of his coat as she buried her face in the curve of his neck. He held her tightly as she breathed in and out, steady and slow, calming herself.
“We’re going to get through this.” He spoke as if they were truly in it together, as if she weren’t the hunted and he the protector. “I’m not going to let them hurt you. Not ever.”
Skye couldn’t say anything. She pulled back to look at Balthazar, at the strong lines of his face so close to hers. The moonlight off the snow had painted him silver. Without hesitating, without thinking, she tilted her face up and kissed him.
It was the softest touch, only for an instant. Balthazar didn’t move. The reality of what she’d done rushed over Skye, and she might have stepped away or even apologized—if Balthazar hadn’t kissed her back.
This time she wound her arms around his neck, closed her eyes, and let the world fall away. His mouth was hard against hers, the kiss fierce enough to electrify. It was only a few seconds, but it felt like she’d escaped all the danger and fear forever.
When they broke apart, though, Balthazar took her arms from around his neck, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”
“Why not?” Skye gave him a look. “Because you don’t like me that way?”
“What? No. That isn’t—no.” One of his hands stroked through her hair, a brief, simple caress. “It’s just… I made a rule centuries ago, Skye. No getting involved with humans. It’s dangerous for them, more than you can possibly realize.”
“I’m already in danger,” she pointed out, but she stepped away from him anyway. Although logically she thought she ought to have felt rejected, she didn’t. Balthazar’s eyes never left her face; his body remained taut from the tension of their brief kiss. And that kiss—
No, he wasn’t rejecting her. He wanted her. He just wouldn’t let himself have her.
Skye said, “You should go, I think.”
“Yeah.” Balthazar had obviously been expecting her to ask him to stay, or to try to kiss him again. Had he been hoping for that? Hoping she’d give him an excuse to give in? “I’ll keep watch outside for a while, though. Make sure you’re safe. So you can sleep.”
She smiled at him crookedly. “Thanks.”
Balthazar hesitated, clearly wanting to say something else. For a long moment they stared into each other’s eyes, yearning to keep the connection. Then he was gone—not like a normal person, but vampire fast, as if he had flickered into shadow instead of walking out. She gasped, both from shock and from the pain of that sudden parting.
Every limb heavy with exhaustion, her brain fuzzy with sudden desire, Skye dressed for bed. Just before she put out the last light, though, she stood at the window for a moment, knowing the illumination from her lamp would outline her to anybody watching from below.
Tonight she knew Redgrave wasn’t watching. Balthazar was.
“Good night,” she whispered, before turning out the light.
Chapter Thirteen
BALTHAZAR PACED THE LENGTH OF HIS BARE carriage house; the sheets were rumpled from his brief, futile attempt to get some sleep. The early morning sunlight filtering through the curtains seemed to fall on his mistakes, making them clearer, and therefore worse.
No humans. It’s a simple rule. How could you forget it?
His mind’s reply didn’t take the form of words; instead, he remembered Skye’s face last night—drawn and pale, and yet trying so hard to be brave that his defenses had crumbled. The way she’d leaned against him on the bus, glowing with warmth like the last ember of a fire. The feel of her mouth against his.
Frustrated, Balthazar tried to push the memories away. Skye was a beautiful girl. He enjoyed spending time with her. He knew he was already committed to keeping her safe from Redgrave and his tribe. That was all there could ever be to it, though. Going any further than one impulsive, mistaken kiss would be unfair to her in the end.
But it had been so long since anyone good and decent had wanted him that way—and her silhouette against the window last night, looking for him in the darkness—
No humans.
As he got ready for the day, slicking back his hair and dressing as tweedy-preppy-conservative as he could manage with his wardrobe, Balthazar thought again of how fragile Skye had been the night before. Being pushed away after a kiss like that: That couldn’t have helped her state of mind. How could he have gotten so carried away, been so selfish, as to pile one more thing onto the burdens she already had to bear?
He shrugged on his blazer and looked at himself in the mirror; his reflection was crisp and bright, no doubt thanks to the sip of Skye’s blood he’d drunk the night before. Even in small doses, living human blood gave vampires a kind of vitality nothing else could. Not that he deserved it.
“You bastard,” he said to the man in the mirror.
A knock on the door startled him. His first thought was Skye, but he hadn’t told her exactly where he was staying yet. To find him here, somebody would have had to be following him.
