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I turn over on my back and lie there, staring at the ceiling, the idea of real telepathy – reading Michel's mind at a distance like some kind of connection at the quantum level. It's disquieting and attractive at the same time. Then a thought comes to me – this thing between he and I – it's been going towards that ever since that night at the university when he held my hand toolong.
"Tell me about that night I first metyou."
"You werethere."
"No," I say and turn over on my side so that I face him. I rest on my elbow and look straight at him. "Tell me what you were thinking." I reach out and touch him for good measure, to see if I can read him. "Thetruth."
He sighs as if he's been expecting this from me and pulls his handaway.
"Don't pull your hand away." I reach out to take his hand back but he won't letme.
"Trust, Eve," he says, his voice firm. "Do you trust me to tell you what you need toknow?"
I just stare at him. I'm not sure I do. He did take those manuscript pages out because he didn't want me to read them. But I said all in, and so I decide to say I trust him even if Idon't.
I nod, but don't sayanything.
"When I read the message you posted in the forum," he says. "I thought that maybe this was the manuscript. When you called me, and told me the year it was first written – 1224 and that it was by a writer from Carcassonne, I knew it was the manuscript, but I wasn't sure if you were our lost Adept, despite the name. Stranger coincidences have happened to me over the years. When I touched you, I was overwhelmed by your response to me. You suspected I was a vampire and were debating whether to run. Only someone inside, from an Adept family or associated with the Council would suspect that I was a vampire. Then I read you and knew it wasyou."
He just looks at me, waiting for myquestions.
"So," I say, my cheeks heating, upset at what he's saying for some reason. "When you realized who I was, what did you think? Did you think right away that you wanted me as your bloodslave?"
He closes hiseyes.
"Yes," he says. "That was my first instinct as it would be any vampire who knows what you are. It's what Julien would want as well. But I rejected that right away and that's why I tried to make you forget our meeting and the manuscript. I don't want it, Eve, at least not here," he says and taps his head. "But here?" He points to his heart. "I can't lie to you. It would beheaven."
"Heaven?" I say, incredulous. "To have me addicted to your blood so that I had to drink it or becomesick?"
"I live every day addicted to blood." He glances away. "The heart wants what itwants."
"I know," I say, and a sense of sadness fills me. "I wouldn't wish it on anyone. But I have this fear that that's exactly where you and I are going. Can you denyit?"
"All I can do is try to ensure it doesn'thappen."
"There is no try," I say, repeating what he said earlier. "Promise me you just won't do it. I'd ratherdie."
"I would have preferred death, Eve. We don't always get to choose. Sometimes God chooses forus."
I turn over onto my back and shake myhead.
"That's awfully arrogant of you," I say. "Thinking that if a God did exist, he'd be spending all his time ordering the details of yourlife."
He runs his fingers along myarm.
"God's omnipotent and can do more than one thing at a time,Eve…"
I turn my head and look at him and he's serious. Hell. I pull away so he isn't touching me – so I can think my own thoughts without him knowingit.
How can an intelligent man with so much experience be so trapped by this religious dogma? Of course, he's not just a man. He's a priest. In his heart, if not inreality.
And that really sums it all up. He's a former priest, still a priest at heart, who does penance for his more human nature. He'll have sex with me and love it but feel intense guilt about it. He'll love it but he'll beg for forgivenessafterwards.
He'll make me his blood slave, and hate himself for it, kneel before an image of the Virgin until his knees bleed in penance. But he'll love having me entirely his own, his possession, psychically tied to him by blood. I clench my fists, angry and sad at the truth ofit.
He leans over and kisses my shoulder, holding his mouththere.
"Eve?" he says, and moves closer, taking my face in his hands. I dig my nails into my palms harder to try to keep tears at bay. "Eve," he says, a touch of panic in his voice. "I can't readyou."
