Page 23 of The Vampire Always Rises
He leaned forward, menace rolling off him. “And if I told you that I would make you sorry if you did not tell me?”
“I’d tell you the same thing,” I said, swallowing back a little spurt of fear. Maybe I wasn’t so comfortable with him as I first thought. After all, what did I know about him other than he was a hell of a lover, and evidently on a crusade to rid the world of some bad people? “A promise is a promise.”
He sat back after giving me a long look, and pulled back onto the road. “It is a rare woman who holds true to her word.”
“I can only hope that’s not a slur against women, because I don’t tolerate that crap.”
I assure you, the same applies to men.
“Good. To answer your question—to the extent that I can—I know you’re a vampire because I had a dream about you.”
“Dark One.”
“Sorry?”
“We prefer the term Dark One.”
“Yeah, but that sounds so ...” I waved a hand around in a vague gesture. “Hollywood. ‘Vampire’ is sexy and dark and brooding and big box office, whereas ‘Dark One’ sounds kind of demonic, you know what I mean? I meant to ask C. J. Dante about it, but I didn’t get the chance. Where are we going? I don’t mind taking a little trip, but I don’t want my cousin Carlo to worry, and all my stuff is back at his house.”
Merrick said nothing, just drove on with a grimness that was worrying.
“So, this mind-talking thing. You are aware of how that works, right? It’s one of the steps.”
His jaw tightened.
“There’s seven steps that you vamps have to go through before ... glorious grapefruit! Do you know what this means?” I punched him on the arm. “It means I’m your Beloved!”
The protest I was waiting for didn’t come, which more than a little surprised me ... and, to be honest, somewhat disappointed me. In every Dark Ones book I’d read, the vampire always protested at first that the heroine wasn’t his Beloved, before finally coming to his senses. And yet, here was a real live vampire, and he didn’t bat an eyelash at finding out that I was the woman who was put on this earth to save him.
Me! I was a savior! My mind boggled at the serendipity of it all.
“I don’t need saving,” he said, his attention focused on driving. “And if I did, you would not be my Beloved. As you pointed out, there are steps that must be taken.”
“Yes, well.” I gave a little cough and ignored my warm cheeks. “As it happens, when I saw you at Dante’s castle, I might have ... there was some ... uh ... medical aid given. And we might have exchanged some body fluid.”
“You kissed me while I was unconscious?” he asked, disbelief dripping off every word.
“You kissed back,” I pointed out.
He said nothing, but his jaw worked a couple of times.
“Anyway, it all boils down to the fact that I’m your Beloved because you’re unredeemed, right? According to Dante’s books, that means you don’t have a soul, and only your Beloved can get it back for you. So that makes me your soul-finder. It’s like this was meant to be all along! Why else would my aunt give me Dante’s books if I wasn’t supposed to be here at this exact moment, poised to save your eternal self? Hoo! Sometimes life really takes your breath away, doesn’t it?”
I sat back, my pleasure at how life had worked out fading when he didn’t say (or think at me) anything more.
“Well?” I asked him when the silence became too much for me.
“What do you want me to say?” he asked irritably, flashing me an annoyed glance.
“A little excitement wouldn’t be out of order,” I said, perilously close to snapping at him. What was wrong with him that he wasn’t happy at finding me? “Out of all of the millions of people in the world, over all the years you’ve lived—wait, how old are you?”
“Seven hundred and eighty-two.”
I gawked at him, just let my jaw drop and gawked. “You’re not!”
“I just said I was.” He flashed me another irritated look. “Why do you contradict me? It is annoying, and I don’t like it.”
“You don’t look a day over seven hundred,” I told him, ignoring his bossiness. I’ve found that is the best way to deal with people who try to dominate you. “Where was I? Oh, yes, if you think about all the people in the world who’ve lived over the last seven hundred and eighty-six years—”
