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I should do what he says, because this stand-off is stupid and I knowit.
"How do I know that you won't go all vampire on me and kill me once I give it toyou?"
"What?" he says and I can see him shaking his head, his frown resolving into a look of disbelief. "Why on Earth would you think I'd want to kill you? Jesus, Eve. Are you thatunaware?"
"I don't know what you'd want, Michel," I say, feeling a bit foolish now. "I don't even knowyou."
"Eve, right now, I'm more in danger from you than you are from me. In case you forgot, you can beat me. If you had real weapons when we fought, if you'd have had a stake, you could have killedme."
"You can kill me as well," I say and sniff. "All you have to do is get close enough to mesmerizeme."
He smiles at that and rubs hiseyes.
"Well, then I think we're evenly matched. I promise not to mesmerize you," he says, a grin on his face, "if you promise not to try to decapitate me with that Samuraisword."
"How did you know I have asword?"
"There's one missing from yourwall."
I scrunch up my face. Of course. He knows about the swords because I told him,pointedly.
"The manuscript's in the linen closet in the bathroom," I say. "It's under some teatowels."
He nods but doesn't getup.
"Thank you," he says and waits, watching. "Are you coming outnow?"
I don't say anything for a while. I can't facehim.
"No," I say, wiping my eyes. "Just go get it andleave."
He runs a hand through his hair and makes a face of some kind. I can't quite see it because he moves briefly out of my field ofvision.
"But I want to talk to you," hesays.
"I'm listening," I say after amoment.
"Sacristy…" he says, hitting his forehead with his fist. "Eve, I want to kissyou."
Oh,God…
That admission sends a rush of warmth through my body, right to the deepest part of me. I close my eyes and try to breathe, my face hot. Here I thought he was going to kill me or torture me. Now, he wants to kissme?
"You can't," I say, barely able to speak over my breathlessness, my heartfluttering.
"Why not?" he says, his own voicesoft.
"Because my nose is all red fromcrying."
And then he's at the armoire opening the door, and he reaches for me, taking the sword out of my hands, throwing it onto the floor so that it skitters across the hardwood. He takes my arms and pulls me up, restraining my hands behind me, holding them firmly so that I can't resist. With the other hand, he wipes tears off my face with gentle fingers, his expression all concerned, his browcreased.
"Eve…" He doesn't kiss me. Just looks at me, his gaze moving over my face. "I don't want you to be afraid of me." And then he leans down and kisses me. Softly. When he pulls away, he examines my face, touches my cheek with a finger, running the tip through mytears.
He seemed so angry when he came into my room, but now, he seems sad. I do fear him, despite the knowledge that I could kill him. The thing is, I feel far too much desire for him, far too much empathy for him, far too much admiration for him after reading themanuscript.
I want him – so much. I don't think I've ever felt this way for any man and I barely know him. I've never felt this much desire, this much lust, this much human sympathy, and it chokes me. But he's far too old and experienced and powerful and I feel like a small child compared to him. Like he could just overwhelm me and I'd lose myself, drown under his power like a swimmer caught in ariptide.
"What do you want?" I say, so confused by him and hisactions.
