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"I love you."
She stared at him. He'd finally said the words she'd longed to hear, the words she'd thought he'd never say. She whispered, "Why now?"
"I was trying to keep you safe. I thought I could protect you from the curse if I didn't say that I loved you. But I couldn't let you leave believing the lies Philippe told you. You are the other half of my heart. I love you more than I knew it was possible to love anyone."
He loved her. He'd loved her all along. All the time she was doubting his motives and suspicious of his actions, he had loved her. If she had trusted him, if he had believed he could tell her such an amazing story without being forced to prove it wasn't a fanciful cover-up for an even worse crime, would he have? If she had encouraged and supported him, would he have told her the truth in the beginning? Was it her actions that had driven him to lie?
He caught her just as her knees buckled.
DESMOND HELPED Rebecca to sit down in Bernice's chair, tilting it back when she looked in danger of fainting. Her gray eyes had gone glassy, and he feared her reaction when she eventually regained her senses. He took the opportunity to smooth a lock of her soft hair away from her face, knowing it might be the last time she allowed him to touch her.
Her eyes focused on him, then she surged out of the chair to pace the room, rubbing her hands together in time to her steps.
"Okay. So. You're cursed. You're some kind of voodoo vampire. The blacked out windows in the apartment are for you, then."
"Yes. But also for Gillian, as I told you. The sunlight aggravated her condition, just as it does mine."
"That's why we traveled to Las Vegas at night. And why you drove so fast to get back, before the sun came up."
"Yes." He turned in a slow circle in the center of the room, facing her as she paced. Her lack of reaction puzzled and alarmed him. Was she still denying the truth?
She continued pacing, head down in thought. Then she turned and faced him.
"When I was moving my clothes in to your closet, I thought that it had a very strange construction. It makes a seal, doesn't it? In case the windows ever fail?"
"Yes." Her perception surprised him, and for the first time he allowed himself to hope that her rational mind would be able to accept his condition without emotional prejudice. He grabbed the glimmer of hope, and struggled to find the right words to explain his situation without frightening her. "I've never used it for that purpose. But I feel safer knowing the option exists, should I ever need it."
"You said your sister was liberated for her time. What time exactly was that?"
"The mid 1800s. And before you ask, the war that claimed my brothers' lives was the War between the States."
"So you were born when?"
"1853."
She nodded, as if this line of questioning made sense to her. He could only wonder where it was leading, and hope he was answering her questions correctly. When she crossed her arms and tilted her head to stare at him, his heart plummeted to his feet. Somehow, he'd failed her test.
"But if that's the case, one thing doesn't ring true. The photograph of your family. It's in color."
He sighed with relief, not caring how she'd found the picture.
"It's not a photograph, it's a daguerreotype. They were individually printed on silver plates, and hand colored after the initial image was fixed."
"Oh." She seemed to deflate, and he longed to go to her and comfort her. But he didn't dare.
She started to wander around the room again, picking up items for a brief inspection before putting them down and moving on to the next thing that attracted her attention. Her silence weighed on his nerves, but he had to let her make the next move. He couldn't risk intimidating or frightening her. Striving to maintain a casual attitude, he leaned against the desk.
"So, how similar is your curse to a real vampire? Do you have to drink blood?" she asked.
"Yes." Unsure what had triggered her question, he almost stopped with that simple answer. But honesty compelled him to give the full picture. "The researchers created a transfusion liquid to prevent accident victims from going into shock. It has all the nutrients I need. If I'm quiet, and don't use my mental powers, I can get by with one dose every other day. If I use my telepathic powers, or sustain some sort of injury, I might need two or more doses in a single day. The fluid replaces the cells that are destroyed in my body, so my need for it depends on how strenuously I push myself."
She stopped her restless pacing and approached him, standing so close that he could smell the lemon and honey fragrance of her shampoo.
When she placed one of her hands lightly on his, he thought his heart would stop from the shock. She still loved him. His needs did not disgust her.
His smile died stillborn. Needs were one thing. She hadn't yet learned the rest of his curse.
He looked down at their joined hands, noting that he'd automatically twined his fingers through hers. He tightened his grip, as if that could keep her by his side after he revealed the complete truth.
