To be on the safe side, they completed the journey to Paris in two stages, stopping over in New York City where Kay stayed at the Plaza and Trevor stayed at a friend’s lair. They met at JFK Airport the next night and soared off on the Concorde for Paris and Orly Field.
“Do you think the bank knows the files are missing?”
Rolling her eyes, Kay shifted one earplug and looked away from the movie she was trying to watch. “You’ve asked me that one a hundred times. I don’t know.”
“The instant they discover the files are gone, they’ll freeze the safety-deposit box.” He fidgeted in a plush armchair, then gave her an apologetic glance. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt any time urgency.... This is nerve-racking.”
Kay abandoned the movie, curled on the seat of a sofa secured to the bulkhead and faced him. “How did you get to the United States before jet travel?”
Discomfort pinched his handsome face. “By ship. I spent the days in the hold, and went up on deck at night.”
Kay’s imagination sketched in furtive details, anxious moments. “You know,” she commented thoughtfully, “the more I learn about vampire life, the less appealing it becomes.”
Trevor instantly rejected the pity softening her eyes. “But I can see, Renfield. I can read.” He tapped the book in his lap. “Believe me, I’ll accept a lot of inconvenience for the blessing of sight.” His vibrant gaze traveled slowly over her face. “What a tragedy it would be if I couldn’t compare your violet eyes to the brightest amethyst or watch your expression change, or if I had to rely on others to describe the shape of your face or the curve of your lips. The indignities that occasionally occur are far outweighed by the miracle of sight.”
“We’ll never be able to kiss, will we?” Kay whispered, the blurted question coming out of nowhere. A fiery blush scalded her cheeks and she ducked her head.
A pause developed before he looked away from the heat in her cheeks and answered. “No,” he said softly.
The emotion leading to a kiss would cause his fangs to emerge, and fangs were not conducive to passion, not from a mortal’s point of view. And Trevor was sensitive to that fact. Blindly, Kay turned her face toward the movie screen flickering at the front of the cabin.
“I’m not suggesting anything, but... aside from kissing... do vampires make love the same way mortals do?”
“We’ve got the same equipment and the same desires, if that’s what you’re asking,” Trevor answered with a tight smile. Slowly his smile faded and he turned his face toward a window. “But the need to puncture, the need to drink is as strong as the sexual desire. The instinct is almost overwhelming.” A long pause ensued before he resumed speaking in a low voice. “Sometimes terrible accidents have happened. Sometimes the vampire loses himself or herself in the throes of passion and tears the mortal’s throat. The mortal dies.”
“Sometimes? Or always?” Kay asked in a choked whisper.
“Frequently,” he said finally, not looking at her.
The man she loved could not kiss her. Trevor could not make love to her without endangering her life. His passion could kill her. Hopeless tears glistened in her eyes.
Trevor moved to the sofa and took her hand, his palm cool against hers. He drew a breath. “We’re lucky you had a passport.”
Grateful for the change of subject, Kay nodded, blinking furiously at the tears clinging to her lashes. “When I was sick, I used to dream of flying off to exotic, romantic places. I applied for a passport when I was twenty. I never really expected to use it but it was nice to look at and think about. I’ve renewed it ever since. Now, here we are, winging off to Paris. Paris!” She was quiet a minute. “You’ve changed my life, Trevor. You’ve opened the world and given me new experiences I never thought I’d encounter. I’ve tried so many new things that I wouldn’t have tried without you.” Unconsciously she ran a hand through her short bouncy hair. “I’ll always be grateful to you. I like the changes. I like what’s happened to me.”
“I can’t wait to show you the City of Lights,” he said in a husky voice. “Ah, Renfield. There are so many things I want to show you. Great art, great architecture—so many things. The world is full of wonderful things to see and do.”
Kay gazed down at their laced fingers, then back at his face. “Will it upset you to return to Paris?” she asked quietly.
“The people I cared about as a young man are gone. By now, even their tombstones have begun to crumble.” He looked past her, frowning out the window. The weight of time and immortality lay heavy in his eyes. “So many of us refuse to become attached to mortals. Perhaps that’s wise. The only possible outcome is pain and loss.” He looked at her with sadness. “But sometimes...”
“I know.”
There seemed to be nothing to say after that. Kay returned to the movie, her thoughts a million miles from the images on screen. Trevor read a Grisham thriller with vampire speed, then withdrew another book from the satchel at their feet.
After the movie, Kay dozed, woke for a snack, dozed and awoke when the captain’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers.
Yawning, she stretched and blinked. “What did he say?”
Trevor frowned at the sturdy Timex watch he had chosen for traveling. “We’re in a holding pattern. We’ll be almost an hour late.”
“Oh.” Then Kay jerked fully awake and her throat clogged with panic. “What time is it?” Whirling on the sofa, she pushed up the window shade and peered at the darkness outside. The lack of light calmed her somewhat, but she turned back to Trevor and anxiously gripped his arm. “How close is it going to be?”
“Close,” he answered tersely. A furrow appeared between his eyes. “I’d planned to stay with a friend in St. Germain but this delay makes safe arrival risky. I think I’d better go with you directly to La Tremoille. It’s a shorter taxi ride.”
The extra hour in the air turned into a nerve-straining hour and a half. Both of them sighed heavily when the plane finally touched down, and they fidgeted with frustration at another delay while waiting to clear customs. Finally, they burst outside and ran to flag a taxi, casting worried glances at the sky.
A faint line of pale blue widened along the eastern horizon.
Trevor flung their baggage into the back seat before the driver could budge, and they jumped inside. After giving the driver an address in the Rue la Tremoille, he fell against the back seat cushion and closed his eyes.
Noticing that his fists were clenched, Kay leaned forward to the driver. “Do you speak English?” she asked between her teeth, her frantic gaze fixed on the horizon.
“Oui, mademoiselle.”
“I’ll pay a hundred dollars extra if you get us to the hotel before sunup.”
The driver peered at her in the rearview mirror, then muttered something that probably translated to “Crazy Americans.” But he stepped on the gas and the Renault shot forward, zipping through traffic at a perilous speed. Neither Kay nor Trevor spoke during the hair-raising ride. Kay ignored the Luxembourg Palace and the Tuileries, romantic places she had yearned to see, and she hardly noticed when the taxi shot across the Champs Elysées. She alternated between wringing her hands and staring at the brightening sky, worrying over Trevor’s tight expression and urging the driver to hurry.
When they skidded to a halt before La Tremoille and a liveried doorman started toward them, she shoved Trevor outside the taxi. “You get us registered, I’ll pay the driver. Leave the baggage for a bellman.”
He glanced quickly at the sky, a blaze of pink and gold now, then strode rapidly inside, away from the pale glow that stung his skin.
By the time Kay ran inside the luxurious lobby, Trevor was waiting impatiently before the elevators, his face pale, his lips pressed in a hard thin line. She joined him, feeling a nervous and terrified dampness beneath her arms, moistening her palms.
When the elevator doors hissed shut behind them, Kay almost wept with relief. Inside, sealed off from any dawn sunlight, she gripped Trevor’s shaking hand. “Will you be safe in the room?” she asked anxiously.
“I hope so.”
Trevor was pallid and trembling like a man with a severe case of flu, shaking too badly to get the room key in the door. Kay snatched it from his hand and finally managed to fling open the door. Immediately, she rushed to the windows of the suite’s sitting room and jerked the curtains shut before she ran to the bedroom and closed the curtains there.
The sun burst over the horizon and a golden glow suffused the room. Despairing, wringing her hands, she whirled toward Trevor who had bent away, grimacing as if in pain. “I don’t know what else to do! The curtains are too thin to completely block the light!” Panicked tears choked her. Horrified, Kay half expected to see him shrivel and turn to ash before her eyes.
But Trevor had not survived for nearly two hundred years without suffering a few close calls and learning a few tricks. Dropping to the floor, he rolled into the darkness beneath the bed. Hands shaking, Kay jerked down the heavy satin coverlet until it swept the floor. Running, she dashed into the bathroom and returned with thick towels which she used to drape the other side of the bed.
When she had done all she could to make him a safe dark nest, she fell into a satin striped chair and dropped her head in her hands, waiting to speak until her heart had ceased to beat like a jackhammer.
“Trevor? Are you okay? Will it be all right?”
“I can’t tell you how ridiculous I feel. It’s very undignified to lay on the floor under a bed, looking at bed springs.”
Kay burst into tension-relieving laughter. “Like you’re usually so dignified, right?” She was trembling and teary with relief, desperately thankful their mad dash had ended in laughter instead of tragedy. If anything terrible had happened to Trevor, she wouldn’t have been able to bear it.
“Renfield?” His voice was muffled and thick with the onset of sleep. “I’m sorry the burden of retrieving the crystals falls on you. But I don’t see any other way to do it.”
“I’ll be fine,” Kay assured him, trying to sound more confident than she felt. Since Trevor could not move about during banking hours, the plan called for her to discover a way to get into the elder’s safety deposit box. “Trevor?”
But he didn’t answer. The disease that enhanced his immune system and made him a vampire put him to sleep like clockwork. He had no choice. The rising sun triggered his sleep mechanism.
Minutes later a knock at the door roused Kay from a jet-lagged contemplation of having a man under her bed. It was weird and sort of funny and chokingly sad. She let the bellman in and instructed him to leave their baggage in the suite’s living room; then she ordered breakfast, filling the claw-footed bathtub while she waited for room service. After eating, she treated herself to a long soak, leaving the bathroom door ajar so she could hear if Trevor stirred. She noticed he didn’t snore. If she hadn’t known better, if the bedclothes hadn’t been disarranged, she could have believed she was completely alone.
But Trevor was sleeping under the bed, hiding from the sun after a very anxious close call.
The idea no longer impressed Kay as amusing, but seemed frightening and terribly sad. Leaning back in the soothing, scented water, she closed her eyes.
Early on, she had envied the vampires their youthful good looks, their perfect health and eternal lives. Their enhanced sensory powers had awed and appealed to her.
During idle moments, Kay had toyed with the thought of becoming a vampire herself, especially after the wild and ultimately frustrating scene of passion in the swimming pool.
Now, in Paris where it had begun for Trevor, she reconsidered the possibility.
On the plus side, if she were a vampire she would never again have to fear becoming seriously ill. There would be no more winter colds or achy summer flus. Time would cease to be an enemy. She would have time to learn skiing and golf and riding and all the leisure pleasures she had put off. She could read everything she had always wanted to read. She could watch history unfold and live far, far into the future.
She could be with Trevor forever.
Kay rubbed her forehead. Could love withstand the demands and tedium of eternity? Or was love treasured and precious because it was designed to last but one fleeting lifetime?
Disturbed, she turned her thoughts to the down side. First and most distasteful, she would be forced to live on human blood, a repulsive thought no matter how it was obtained. Her life would shrink to half-day increments, lived in darkness or artificial light. There would never again be sunlight in her world. Or real warmth.
Far worse, she would never have children, never know the rapture of carrying a child beneath her heart. Never experience the joys of parenthood.
And Trevor? Perhaps in a century or two they would have said everything possible to say. Perhaps in a century or two they would be bored out of their minds with each other. What a terrible end to a grand passion, indifference and silence. Such an end would trivialize all that had gone before.
Hot tears slipped down her cheeks and dropped into the bathwater. Her heart ached, as if it were breaking. She could never become a vampire.
She didn’t want to deaden her emotions out of fear that fangs would emerge at an inconvenient moment. She didn’t want to deal with fangs—period. And she loathed the idea of fearing the sun or sleeping in dark windowless places. As for drinking blood, that was a horror that Kay utterly rejected, along with eavesdropping on private conversations a block away. Finally, she could not betray her unborn children by dooming them to oblivion.
Covering her face with soapy hands, Kay surrendered to racking sobs, crying until no more tears would come. Love wasn’t supposed to be this impossible or hurt this much. Love wasn’t supposed to give you agonizing choices or tear you into little pieces. Love was supposed to be joyful and filled with the promise of a happy future. Love was sharing, and parenting, and growing old together. Love was laughter and sunshine and building a life based on common values. Love was two lives unfolding in tandem, united by respect and admiration and joy.
“Oh, Trevor,” she whispered, turning wet eyes toward the darkened bedroom. “I’ll stay with you for the rest of my life, my love, but every day the pain grows deeper....”
* * *
She napped on the sofa until nine in the morning, then finished the coffee in the room service pot, gradually coming awake. When Kay was dressed to leave and had hung out the Do Not Disturb sign, she located her address book, drew a deep, steadying breath, then dialed the Renfield who worked for Otto Von Lichten, senior elder on the Council of Six.
A male voice answered in a cautious tone. “Oui?”
Kay drew another deep breath. “This is Miss Wheeler at the Rouge Banque.” She imagined the Renfield snapping to attention on the other end of the phone. “Please inform Mr. Von Lichten that we deeply regret this, but our security has been breached. His file and that of Mr. Mondrake have been perused by outsiders.”
“What?” The Renfield’s shock was so great that he didn’t notice the exchange was conducted in English.
“I was instructed to inform Mr. Von Lichten at once.”
“Yes, yes. Of course.” In his agitation, the Renfield knocked something over. She would have bet all she owned that his mind was racing like an engine, trying to decide what he should do. “The safety-deposit box,” he said suddenly, urgency cracking his voice. “Has anyone tried to get into the box?”
Kay’s shoulders sagged with relief. His question meant the bank had not yet discovered the missing vampire files or notified anyone. Plus, Von Lichten’s Renfield knew about the safety-deposit box, and he had taken the bait. “Ah, we don’t think so,” she said, trying to sound falsely cheerful, as if she might be lying, “but we’ve, ah, experienced a bit of difficulty with our sign-in process....”
“Merde!”
Kay grinned at the wallpaper, then quickly ended the conversation and hung up. Unless she missed her guess, Von Lichten’s Renfield was even now rushing for the door. There was little danger that he would beat her to the Rouge Banque as Otto Von Lichten’s estate was in Montmartre while Kay was staying in the eighth arrondissement only a few blocks from the bank.
After finding her purse and checking her appearance, she entered the bedroom and stood beside the heavily draped bed.
“As you know, the plan gets fuzzy after this point. I’m not sure how I’m going to get the crystals out of the elder’s safety-deposit box,” she said softly, “but I won’t let you down.” She ground her teeth together and thought about Binky. “If the crystals are there, I promise I’ll get them. Somehow.”
Hurrying, she rode the elevator to the lobby, then stepped outside into the soft morning light glowing on the noisy streets of Paris.
* * *
The Rouge Banque was situated on a bustling avenue crammed with boutiques and expensive shops. A discreet brass placard announced the name; a carved door opened to the street.
Nerves rising, Kay gripped her purse strap and stepped inside. The interior was quieter and smaller than most American banks, elegantly appointed in brass and polished dark woods. Her heels sounded like explosive little gunshots as she crossed the lobby to a desk facing the teller cages.
“I’d like to arrange for a safety-deposit box,” she said to the woman, who glanced up at her approach. “Could you direct me to the proper place?”
“Of course, madam. Take the staircase to the lower level, then follow the corridor to the vaults. A guard will assist you.”
Feeling as if she were descending into a dungeon, Kay followed the instructions, then filled out the forms she was presented, paid a fee and accepted the key she was given. So far, so good.
“This way, madam,” a uniformed guard said in a heavy accent.
Pushing back the sleeve of her gray business suit, Kay pretended to consult her wristwatch. “Actually, I was to meet my husband here,” she explained. “I’ll wait until he arrives.” She chose a seat near the sign-in desk and crossed her legs.
“Of course. May I bring you anything? Perhaps an espresso?”
Sipping the coffee from a tiny cup and saucer, she waited, her nerves winding tighter by the minute. A chic Frenchwoman appeared, signed in and entered the vault with the guard. Then a man carrying a fat briefcase came in.
The man with the briefcase was a false alarm. When Kay’s heart stopped slamming around her chest, she gritted her teeth and told herself that she would not run out of here as she wanted to do. She would see this craziness through to the end.
“Binky, Binky,” she grimly repeated under her breath. That’s why she was doing something she ordinarily wouldn’t have thought of doing in a million years. For Binky and others like him.
She knew at once when Von Lichten’s Renfield appeared. He rushed into the room as if the devil nipped his heels, slightly out of breath, his thin face flushed with anger and anxiety.
“Once I’ve checked Mr. Von Lichten’s box, I’ll want to speak to Mr. Marchalt,” he snapped. After fumbling a key out of his pocket, he signed the register with an impatient flourish.
Kay recognized Marchalt as the name of the family who had founded the bank in the 1600s. By the time Renfield spoke to the latest Marchalt descendant, Kay would be long gone. Please, God.
She had a moment to take note of his shoes and sense his menace. Then the guard escorted him inside the vault.
The instant the guard returned, Kay stood and gave him a sigh and a smile. “It appears my husband has overlooked our appointment. I may as well go inside.”
The guard led her into a silent maze. They passed a curtained alcove behind which Kay sniffed the Frenchwoman’s perfume; then they continued down a corridor faced by shiny metal locked boxes. The guard stopped before one of the drawers and inserted the bank’s key then waited while Kay inserted her key. He removed the box for her and carried it to a vacant alcove. She thanked him and impatiently waited for him to leave.
The instant his footsteps receded, she darted out of her alcove and hurried through the maze on tiptoe, her heart hammering in her chest. Bending, she peeked beneath any closed curtains, looking for a pair of polished brown oxfords, and frantically trying to think of a plan.
When she found the shoes she was searching for, Kay paused in the steely silence, drew a deep breath and whispered a hasty prayer. She had no idea how she was going to steal the crystals from Von Lichten’s Renfield, only that she was going to do it or die trying.
She threw back the curtain and bumped hard into the man standing before a shelf. Papers fluttered from his fingers.
“Excuse me, I’m so sorry,” she apologized, her eyes flying to the open box on the shelf. It was empty. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here. Let me help you pick up your papers.” A second glance told her it was one document.
Bending, she managed to again knock the Renfield off balance, which gave her another minute to scan the document he was trying to retrieve from the floor. The wording was in old French and Kay couldn’t read it. But she did recognize that she was looking at an old deed.
“Get out, you clumsy idiot!” the Renfield snarled, a dark plum color rising from his collar.
She didn’t have to be told twice. Babbling apologies, Kay backed out of the alcove, then fled, thanking God that she hadn’t had to fight him for the crystals. Not that she could imagine herself actually fighting. She didn’t know what she would have done if the crystals had been in the box. But she did know that Von Lichten’s Renfield scared the hell out of her.
At the moment, she was a half-step ahead of him, but none of the Renfields were dummies. In about one minute he would identify her voice as the voice on the telephone, and he would realize she had not blundered into his alcove by accident.
Kay flew up the staircase and past the startled faces of the lobby employees, then out the door. Gasping, shaking like a leaf, she ducked into the nearest boutique, snatched a wide-brimmed hat from a mannequin and jammed it down over her hair and eyes.
A second later Von Lichten’s Renfield burst out of the bank’s door and skidded to a halt on the sidewalk, turning his head this way and that to scan the crowds. Kay fled to the back of the boutique and blindly rifled a rack of women’s jackets. She pulled out a linen jacket and thrust it into the hands of a shop girl who was staring at the hat she had snatched.
“I’ll take the hat, too,” she said breathlessly. “And that silk blouse. I’ll wear the jacket and the hat.”
Thirty minutes later, she left the boutique feeling somewhat disguised, but positive that hidden eyes scrutinized her every move. When the plan was still in the talking stages and she was feeling brave enough to envision success, she had imagined herself leaving the scene of her triumph to explore the Champs-Élysées. The actuality was different. With her nerves in shreds, Kay fled back to the hotel, not feeling safe until she had locked the door behind her and jammed a chair beneath the handle.
Collapsing on the sofa, she clasped her hands together and decided she had had enough adventure to last a lifetime. At the moment she could not remember why she had ever thought a dull life was something to apologize for. She’d been crazy to think she was missing something.
When Trevor finally awoke and emerged from under the bed, he appeared paler than usual and in a less than cheerful mood.
“Did you get the crystals?” he asked, entering the living room where Kay was watching French television, amazed by the nudity in the commercials.
“They weren’t in the box. But I—”
“Damn!” He raised a hand, his eyes intent and hungry on her throat. “Since the crystals weren’t there, the rest of the story can wait.” He watched her snap off the television. “The indignities continue,” he said after a moment, his voice stiff.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Renfield, I need to arrange certain things. May I have a moment of privacy to use the phone?” His gaze was dark and riveted to her throat. “It might be wise if you went for a walk or something. I need about an hour alone.”
Blood. He was going to phone a vampire friend and ask him to deliver some take-out.
Faintly revolted, Kay rose and entered the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Because she didn’t want to hear the delivery knock at the door or the silence that would follow, she lay on the bed and pulled the pillow around her ears. Almost immediately she fell asleep.
When she awoke, Trevor was sitting on the bed beside her, studying her face. “I missed you,” he said softly, smoothing back her hair.
He looked considerably better. There was color in his face now, and his hair was damp from a recent shower. He wore jeans and a designer pullover, and managed to look young and exuberant, handsome and very American.
Kay threw herself into his arms, pressing her forehead against his neck. “You won’t believe the day I’ve had!” Almost instantly she pulled back and pushed his hands away. “If a hug is going to get you worked up, then don’t touch me. Please. I just can’t take fangs right now.”
Looking embarrassed, Trevor moved to stand beside the windows, lifting his hand to his mouth, indicating she’d guessed correctly. Opening the curtains, he gazed down at the traffic zipping along the brightly lit street below.
“Tell me what happened.”
After he’d heard the story and swallowed his disappointment, he studied her expression. “Could you make out any words on the deed?”
Kay straightened her skirt and leaned against the pillows mounded on the bed. “I think I’m pretty sure the deed was for a place called the Mineral Museum. In Budapest.”
“That makes sense,” Trevor remarked after a moment’s thought. “There’s a castle outside Budapest that once belonged to Ilia Magyar. The Council of Six often uses the castle as a meeting place.” When he saw the question in Kay’s eyes, he added. “Magyar is dead.”
“Oh, no. Another suicidal vampire?”
“No,” Trevor said, looking away from her. “Ilia Magyar died in the days when vampire hunting was a respectable profession.”
“Oh.” Kay swung her legs out of bed, not wanting to think about how Magyar had died. “Well,” she said with false brightness, “Budapest, here we come.”
“Renfield, I want you to return to Denver.”
Kay stared.
“Stay in Paris for a few days, see the sights, then go home.”
“Trevor, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying it’s going to get dangerous from here on. By now both the bank and the elders know someone has stolen the vampire files. Both groups will be very anxious to discover who has the information and how they can retrieve it. They aren’t going to play nice.”
Soberly, Kay nodded, working it through. It would take a while, but eventually the theft would be tracked to Trevor’s computer. She’d made two backups, one of which was in a safety-deposit box in a Denver bank; the other was buried in her mother’s backyard. The Rouge Banque or the elders might retrieve the files from Trevor’s computer, but IV would still have a copy. That was good for IV; bad for the elders.
It might be bad for her, too.
“Von Lichten’s Renfield has never seen me before today. He won’t know who I am....”
“You don’t understand the power or the reach of the Council of Six. Before dawn they’ll know you’re my Renfield—you can count on it.”
She sat on the edge of the bed, looking at him. “Surely they wouldn’t—”
“The council will know you acted on my instructions. You’ll be safe if you and I separate.”
“No,” Kay said quietly but firmly. Before Trevor could argue, she said, “What if the Mineral Museum is only open during the day? Without me, how would you check it out?”
A long sigh lifted his chest and she watched him strive for patience. “I’ll break into it after-hours, of course.”
“But what if the museum is a dead end or a false lead?”
“The council owns the castle in Budapest and other properties around the world, but the only deed you saw was for the Mineral Museum. Minerals, as in crystals. This property is more important than all the others put together. No, Renfield. It isn’t a false lead.” He considered her. “Do you think Von Lichten’s man knows you saw the title of the deed?”
“Everything happened so fast... I don’t know.”
He thought about it. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll know the minute I show up in Budapest.”
“The minute we show up in Budapest,” Kay corrected. “I’m going with you, Trevor. I made a promise to you and to myself the morning Binky died.” Her chin came up in a stubborn gesture. “I’m going to see this through to the end.”
“Think about Eleander Mondrake. Remember him. Not all vampires are charming and pledged to IV’s rules. Mondrake could tear your throat out and never give it a second thought. The Council of Six is not going to let a mere mortal stand in the way of preserving their power. They’ll chew you up, Renfield.”
Kay’s face turned as white as the sheets, but she didn’t change her mind. “I’m part of this. Binky was my friend.”
“Damn it! I’m trying to tell you that I love you and I don’t want to place you in danger!”
“Well, damn it, yourself! I’m trying to tell you that I love you and I’m not going to let you face this alone!”
They stared at each other. Then suddenly Kay burst into laughter.
“Is this some kind of mortal humor that I don’t understand?” Trevor asked, glaring at her.
“For weeks I’ve dreamed and hoped that you would love me. I imagined you telling me in a hundred different ways. But I never dreamed you’d shout the words or tell me you loved me in the middle of trying to send me away.” Crossing to him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled up at him with soft eyes. “I’m not going.” She raised a hand to his lips, feeling his canines growing beneath her fingers. “As soon as I saw the property deed, I knew Budapest would be the next step. Our tickets are waiting at the airport.”
“I can go alone,” he whispered, trailing his fingertips down her cheek and throat.
“You don’t have to be alone ever again.”
With a groan, he buried his face in her hair, holding her so tightly, she thought he would crush her.
“Trevor?” she whispered, her voice raw. “Our plane doesn’t leave until midnight. Take me to bed.”
“You don’t know what you’re—”
She covered his mouth with her hand, neither repulsed nor frightened by his teeth. She never would be again. “I love you and I trust you,” she said simply, her eyes telling him that she spoke the truth. “I know you won’t hurt me.”
Raising her hands, gazing deeply into his smoldering eyes, she slowly unbuttoned her new silk blouse.