cupping his face, she drew him close. “You’d understand it more when I tell you she will lead you to purgatory and only through her will you find your personal paradise. The woman you brought here is your Beatrice. I can see it clear as day.”
He placed his hands over hers, reveling in the aged feel of her skin, as it reminded him of what he would never have. “How I wish I could believe you but I am almost positive you are mistaken. I admit she is different, she makes me laugh, but it will take much more than a few light moments to save me.” He bent his head into her hands. If anything, the past few weeks had been more difficult. Each day he refused to kill pushed him further into despair’s depths.
She shrugged and backed away, sat back in her chair. “You’ve always been stubborn, but you shall see for yourself.”
Luke lifted his gaze. His thirst overwhelmed him and his eyes must be burning a deep burgundy. They never spoke about what he was. Usually, he preferred to avoid the subject, but tonight was different. “Why is it you have never feared me?” he asked. “I always hesitate to say too much and yet I have the feeling you know everything anyway.”
Francesca smiled and shook her head. “Not everything. I’ve always wondered whether you’d ever ask me that, though. I used to spend hours thinking what I’d tell you.”
Stomach churning, he anticipated what she would say. “And?”
“Frankly, I’m too old to care now.” She laughed softly. “And I know you. You’d rather take your own life than kill an innocent, but you put yourself in danger going this long without appeasing your hunger. You are a vampire. You must drink blood and you must kill. The predator within demands it as the price for your freedom. You may not believe yourself free but it could be worse.”
She was right but the words still were not easy to hear. “You know too much, Francesca. I worry for your safety at times.”
“I’m no threat to your kind.” She crossed her right leg over her left. “At best I’m an aged meal.”
Luke smiled at her bluntness. “More like a fine vintage wine.”
“Ah, yes.” She laughed. “This I prefer to believe.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I cannot explain the restlessness inside me. Why does my thirst for blood and death grow stronger? What wrong am I committing?”
Francesca met his gaze. Laughter left her face and her eyes glistened beneath the dim lights. “Surrender. If you can do this, you’ll leave an old woman with less sleepless nights.”
No doubt she spoke the truth. For as long as he had known her, Francesca had fretted over him. At times, she reminded him of the way a mother should be. His mother had not had a true worried bone in her body. “You should not be losing sleep over me anyhow.”
She lifted her chin, a defiant gesture, if he were to guess. “It’s my nature to worry.”
Luke ran a hand through his hair. Perhaps Francesca was right, but surrender meant trust. Could he learn to trust again? And even if he did, what would he give up? “I will try to do as you ask.”
She nodded. “There is hope for you yet.”
He stood, lifted Francesca’s hand and kissed the top of it. “Tonight was a pleasure. I shall try not to stay away too long this time, but I believe it best if I take her before she awakens.”
“Yes, I agree,” she said. “I would hate to lie to such a lovely innocent and unless you are ready to reveal yourself, I assume I don’t have a choice?”
Francesca tested her boundaries, but he would not let up. He could not afford to reveal himself, not yet, anyhow. And he was not so sure Savannah was the innocent she pretended to be. “I appreciate your understanding.”
She bowed her head. “Perhaps there will be another time for us to meet.”
“Yes, perhaps,” he replied. “For now, please excuse me. Goodnight, Francesca.” He turned and left the room.
8
Innocence is like polished armor; it
He placed his hands over hers, reveling in the aged feel of her skin, as it reminded him of what he would never have. “How I wish I could believe you but I am almost positive you are mistaken. I admit she is different, she makes me laugh, but it will take much more than a few light moments to save me.” He bent his head into her hands. If anything, the past few weeks had been more difficult. Each day he refused to kill pushed him further into despair’s depths.
She shrugged and backed away, sat back in her chair. “You’ve always been stubborn, but you shall see for yourself.”
Luke lifted his gaze. His thirst overwhelmed him and his eyes must be burning a deep burgundy. They never spoke about what he was. Usually, he preferred to avoid the subject, but tonight was different. “Why is it you have never feared me?” he asked. “I always hesitate to say too much and yet I have the feeling you know everything anyway.”
Francesca smiled and shook her head. “Not everything. I’ve always wondered whether you’d ever ask me that, though. I used to spend hours thinking what I’d tell you.”
Stomach churning, he anticipated what she would say. “And?”
“Frankly, I’m too old to care now.” She laughed softly. “And I know you. You’d rather take your own life than kill an innocent, but you put yourself in danger going this long without appeasing your hunger. You are a vampire. You must drink blood and you must kill. The predator within demands it as the price for your freedom. You may not believe yourself free but it could be worse.”
She was right but the words still were not easy to hear. “You know too much, Francesca. I worry for your safety at times.”
“I’m no threat to your kind.” She crossed her right leg over her left. “At best I’m an aged meal.”
Luke smiled at her bluntness. “More like a fine vintage wine.”
“Ah, yes.” She laughed. “This I prefer to believe.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I cannot explain the restlessness inside me. Why does my thirst for blood and death grow stronger? What wrong am I committing?”
Francesca met his gaze. Laughter left her face and her eyes glistened beneath the dim lights. “Surrender. If you can do this, you’ll leave an old woman with less sleepless nights.”
No doubt she spoke the truth. For as long as he had known her, Francesca had fretted over him. At times, she reminded him of the way a mother should be. His mother had not had a true worried bone in her body. “You should not be losing sleep over me anyhow.”
She lifted her chin, a defiant gesture, if he were to guess. “It’s my nature to worry.”
Luke ran a hand through his hair. Perhaps Francesca was right, but surrender meant trust. Could he learn to trust again? And even if he did, what would he give up? “I will try to do as you ask.”
She nodded. “There is hope for you yet.”
He stood, lifted Francesca’s hand and kissed the top of it. “Tonight was a pleasure. I shall try not to stay away too long this time, but I believe it best if I take her before she awakens.”
“Yes, I agree,” she said. “I would hate to lie to such a lovely innocent and unless you are ready to reveal yourself, I assume I don’t have a choice?”
Francesca tested her boundaries, but he would not let up. He could not afford to reveal himself, not yet, anyhow. And he was not so sure Savannah was the innocent she pretended to be. “I appreciate your understanding.”
She bowed her head. “Perhaps there will be another time for us to meet.”
“Yes, perhaps,” he replied. “For now, please excuse me. Goodnight, Francesca.” He turned and left the room.
8
Innocence is like polished armor; it
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