“How about if I ask the questions, and you answer them? No lying, though, or I kick you out and never let you in again,” she demanded. She waited for his nod of agreement, crossing her arms across her chest. “How old are you?”
He relaxed, an amused expression crossing his face. As he grinned, she saw a dimple flash her way. “Twenty-seven.”
“Hmm…and what year were you born? I’m bad at math,” she lied.
The amusement vanished and coldness took over his features again. “You really want to ask that one?” He spoke between clenched teeth. “I don’t think you do.”
“Actually, I do,” she insisted. “I certainly didn’t invite you here to discuss the weather.”
“Oh, and how has the weather been, Sabrina?”
“Stormy.” Her voice rose at his odd question. Who the hell cared what the weather had been like?
“I’ll bet,” he scoffed.
She studied him curiously. It sounded almost as if he had some hidden meaning behind his words, one she wasn’t privy to. She pushed aside her confusion at his derision and looked at him, making a great show of dragging her eyes from him to the door. “Now that we’ve discussed the weather, answer my question.”
“Sabrina,” he ground out. “I already did. Twenty-seven.”
“Did you come here to lie to me? To play games? Time for you to leave. Now.” She rose to her feet and glared at him. She was done. This whole situation seemed ridiculous. When he didn’t leave, she put her hands on her hips and leaned closer to him. “I said get out.”
He mumbled something, and she leaned in closer. “What did you say?
“I was born in eighteen-fifty-four!” he yelled. “Is that clear enough for you, my lady?”
Shock filled her at his answer, and she collapsed back onto the couch. She’d been expecting something like this, but to hear it out loud still struck her like a blow. Things like this didn’t happen. Well, maybe it did in movies and novels, but not in real life.
Man up, Sabrina. No time for shock.
“What are you?”
“I won’t—can’t—say. It’s not possible. So, you might as well move onto the next question. You can threaten all you want, but I can’t answer you.”
She stared at him, trying to make sense of his words. He hadn’t said he wouldn’t tell her, but he couldn’t. Why? An order, a covenant, or did he just not know?
Interesting….
“Okay. Give me a second here….” She rested her head on her left hand, rubbing her temple as she racked her brain for her next question. She tried really hard not to dwell upon the one question he couldn’t answer. She had been sure what his answer would be, yet even in fiction she had never heard of a vampire not being able to admit his secret. Could she be wrong?
Was he something else?
Stop wasting time and get your answers.
“Why couldn’t you come inside until I invited you in? And why come into my dreams, instead of talking to me the normal way?”
“I can’t come in until you let me.”
“And once invited, can I kick you out?”
“No, once you invite me in, you can’t rescind it.” His smirk did nothing to hide his satisfaction at sharing the small detail with her.
“Well, that would have been some useful information. Don’t you think?”
“Useful for whom? Not me.” He smirked, and she itched to wipe it off his face. “And I never came to you in the daytime, because Isaac had already wormed his way into your life. If it weren’t for him, none of this would be happening.”
“So you blame Isaac for everything, huh?” she asked curiously. “Interesting. I had the impression things went down the other way.”
“Meaning, of course, I’m a horrible monster, and he’s an angel? Of course, gentle Isaac could never do any wrong.” He rolled his eyes. “Well, you’re wrong. Dead wrong. You placed your trust in the wrong man, my dear.”
“Hmm, I’m not so sure about that.” Hesitantly, she continued. “You and Isaac both cared for Amelia. Right?”
He nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“You fought. He seems to blame you for her death. Did you…kill her?”
Anger, pain, and finally resignation crossed his eyes before he whispered, “Yes.”
She choked on a breath and coughed in an attempt to inhale. She’d been so sure he had to be good, that he couldn’t possibly be the evil monster Isaac seemed to believe him to be. But if he was guilty of murder, she had just invited a murderer in her home.
Oh God, what have I done?
Remembering to breathe, she leaned imperceptibly away from him. He tensed at her action, but she didn’t care. She needed to get out. Smiling, she said, “I’ll be right back. I need some coffee.”
She rose from the couch, making sure she moved in a non-run-for-your-life-manner. Hearing him curse behind her, Sabrina reached for the knife in blind panic. Her hand barely brushed the handle before she got thrown through the air and buried beneath him on the couch. She managed to throw one solid punch to his ear, and he grunted in pain as he pinned her arms above her head.
“Jesus, knock it off! That bloody well hurt,” he exclaimed.
“Let go of me,” she snarled. “Or you’ll hurt even more.” She threatened him, trying to free her knee from between his. He cursed and pinned it down under his leg as he looked at her in something akin to horror. No matter, she had all day to kick his ass.
“No, wait, please don’t be scared. Let me explain. You can’t leave. I can’t let you. I’m sorry.” Though his voice pleaded with her, his face looked like it had been set in granite.
In fact, he felt as heavy as stone as well.
And just as unmovable.
“I’m not scared, you ass. I’m pissed. Let me up, now!” She squirmed beneath him, fighting for freedom, until she froze and her eyes widened in shock. That, she knew, was not stone. It was an erection, pure and simple.
She drew a deep breath, prepared to scream at the top of her lungs. He must have sensed her intentions, because he cursed and swallowed her cries into his mouth. His lips moved over hers, stealing her breath away. Panic overwhelmed her, and she thought with certainty that she would soon die. She would die because, like an idiot, she’d ignored Isaac’s warning.
Anger ripped through Sabrina like a knife, and she lay still, afraid to move. It seemed useless to fight his strength in this way. She’d seen him yank a tree out of the ground; he could handle a mere woman. But she’d be damned if she would respond to his assault, either in fear or desire. Elijah pulled away from her lips and rested his forehead against hers.