Thirst
Page 70

 Jacquelyn Frank

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“It is for the nation.”
“Ah yes. The bigger picture. How remarkable that you would care enough about us in so little an amount of time.”
She was quiet a moment, her world dark and insular.
“I’m not doing this entirely for them.”
“Oh?” he said.
“I’m doing it for you. You…you’re special to me. I…really like you.”
“I like you too,” he said with another chuckle. “In fact, I would dare to say it goes far beyond liking.”
“After so short an amount of time?” she asked quietly, knowing she was asking herself the question more than she was asking it of him. Her feelings toward him, she realized, were very strong. As they drove toward uncertainty and danger, she was forced to face the idea that he might be killed. That he might be taken out of her life as suddenly as he had entered it. The idea gave her great pain. A pain she didn’t fully understand.
They had only known each other for a few days! How could she feel so strongly after only a few days? It must be an effect of being placed into danger with him. Their relationship being forged in a conflict they had to unite against.
And yet…it seemed like more than that.
“We’ve only known each other a short time,” he said, echoing her thoughts, “but it isn’t the amount of time that matters. It is the quality of it. You’ve burst your way into my heart. You’ve hit me like a powerful wave of energy. I’ve never felt anything like this in all of my long years on this planet.”
Beneath her hood Renee was flushing. She felt incredibly warm. Incredibly good. His words made her feel special. Treasured. It was not a feeling she was used to. She wasn’t normally the type of woman who was swept up by pretty words. But the thing was, she believed him. In fact, she couldn’t imagine doubting him. With the exception of the necessary deceptions at the beginning of their relationship, he had been completely and baldly honest with her. She had no reason to doubt his words and she had no right to laugh off his emotions.
Especially when she was feeling the same way.
“I know the feeling,” she said into the dark of her hood. She leaned her head forward until she connected with him, then she nuzzled him warmly. She could almost hear him smiling when he said, “I couldn’t ask for a better woman in my life.”
“Not even your queen?” she fished.
He chuckled. “Simone and I have a special relationship, more like brother and sister than anything else. She is precious to me, but not in the same way that you are precious.”
“I’m precious?” she asked, her warm feelings increasing until she began to feel hot and stifled beneath her hood. She wished she could see his face, look into his eyes as he said these things to her. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him; it was just that she wanted that special connection. She wanted to be able to recall his eyes and his expression whenever she thought of his words to her. But instead she was trapped in fabric.
“You are. You are extraordinary and amazing and precious.”
“No. I mean…precious to you.”
“Haven’t I made that clear?” he asked softly, his face nuzzling against her ear through their hoods.
“I like to hear it,” she admitted.
He laughed softly. “Then yes. You are precious to me. And to no one else if I have my say. No one save your family. I’ll allow them to treasure you as I do.”
“Well, thank you for your permission,” she said dryly. She wondered at herself in that moment. That sort of possessiveness would normally send her running for the hills. But with him it made her feel cherished.
“Tell me about them.”
“About who?”
“Your family.”
“I thought I have told you about them.”
“Tell me, would they accept someone like me in your life?”
“Well, since I can’t be a hundred percent honest with them about who you are, they might feel you were hiding something from them.”
“Only if you let it show. I have been lying about who I am quite easily for many decades. The trick is to be as truthful as possible, lying only where necessary. And since ‘Are you a vampire?’ is not a question most people ask, then there is little to lie about.”
“What about your work?”
“Is it a lie to say I am a cultural attaché?”
“Well…no.”
“And that is why I introduce myself as such. I never get specific as to which culture I am attached to. People do what you did. They assume because I am Portuguese I am an attaché with the Portuguese government. I do not correct the assumption.”
“And if someone calls the consulate looking for you?”
“That rarely happens. I provide business cards that encourage them to call me directly. My secretary does the rest. I find that people are willing to believe the easiest answer. I have yet to come across someone who has not.”
“I don’t know that I should feel comforted by the fact that you are a convincing liar.”
“No more so than you are. You have had to lie to your partner.”
“I have omitted more than I have lied.”
“Splitting hairs.”
“True. But knowing what might happen to him if he were exposed to your world makes it easier.”
“Exactly. Still, he would not be harmed. He would just undergo hypno.”
“I’m not entirely convinced that is harmless.”
“I have used it on you and you are no worse for wear.”
“But I was missing hours of my life. It couldn’t have been entirely safe, leaving me in a hypnotic slumber. What if someone had tried to break in?”
“You would have woken up. It was merely a suggestion, not a dictate.”
“Maybe the sleep was, but the altering of my memories wasn’t.”
“Are you still angry with me about that?”
“No,” she assured him. “I never was angry. I suppose I should have been…but I wasn’t. I understood. I still do understand.”
“I’m glad since there is little I can do to change it.”
“No. You don’t need to worry. All is forgiven.”
“I am glad to hear that.”
“We’re coming up on it now!” the driver called back to them.