CHAPTER ELEVEN || COLE #2
I stopped in my tracks, and he did the same. Somewhere in the distance, fireworks went off. I realized, belatedly, that there had been music in the air. I hadn’t noticed—I’d been too focused on Eli.
“Tell me.”
“I suppose you’ve shown me your crazy,” Eli said with a little laugh. “I had a dream that you were French. And from, like, the Middle Ages or something.” He paused, grinning sheepishly. “Pretty weird, right?”
Impossible.
Unease threaded through me, and I was certain he saw it on my face, because his smile faltered. “Nicolas? That’s strange, right?”
He had to be some sort of psychic. Perhaps he had tuned into me somehow—a terrible thought, because I was certain he wouldn’t like what he saw if he dug any deeper.
Maybe he was some sort of witch. Perhaps one unaware of his magical ancestry? Rare, as most witches went to great lengths to preserve their bloodlines—but not unheard of. It would explain why he couldn’t be hypnotized. Witches tended to be immune to vampiric mind control.
“It’s strange you dreamed of that, yes,” I said carefully. Then I paused, my brain scrambling for anything to change the subject. Naturally, I defaulted to the list of questions Harris had given me. “Do you believe in fate, or do we make our own choices?”
Eli stared at me. “You’re asking me that right now? After I just told you about my bizarro-world dream?”
“Don’t worry, Doctor. You’re at least as sane as I am.”
“There’s a scary thought.”
I tried not to take offense.
“Both,” he said at last. “But I don’t know if I think fate is some cosmic force of the universe or whatever. I guess it could be. But our choices matter, too.”
“If you believe fate exists but isn’t a cosmic force, then what else would it be?”
“A system of circumstances and forces acting on us in subtle, constant ways,” Eli said immediately.
“Like, technically, I could hop on a plane and fly to China tomorrow. That’s free will.
But I won’t. I have responsibilities. Obligations.
Past conditioning from all my experiences.
The social expectations of everyone around me.
The fact that if I left, Sam wouldn’t be okay.
All of that, if you put it together, means our choices aren’t nearly as unlimited as people think. ”
“True,” I allowed.
“It’s a kind of fate, and everyone’s is a little—or a lot—different, depending on who they are and what circumstances they’re either born into or fall into.
Someone born to a wealthy family in the U.S.
has a very different fate than someone born poor.
They have different forces acting on them. Their choices aren’t the same.”
“You don’t believe in anything mysterious or otherworldly?”
“I’m a doctor. Medicine is a science. And if it can’t be measured, it doesn’t exist,” Eli said. But he sounded almost doubtful. He gave me a strange, searching look. “Do you believe in otherworldly things?”
“Naturally.”
“And why is that, Cole?”
“No.”
“No?” Eli’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, no?”
“I don’t want to sully our date with things that might alarm you,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “And you’re entitled to your view of the world.”
Eli’s eyebrows knitted as he studied me. “You’re protecting me.”
I shrugged. I wasn’t doing a very good job of it, was I?
“I like you,” I said simply. “And I don’t wish for any ill to befall you.”
“Why?” Eli demanded.
“Well, there’s your body, for one thing,” I replied, flashing him a grin. “It’s rather nice.”
His cheeks flushed. “I’m not easily distracted.”
I arched an eyebrow. “I could probably come up with a few ways to redirect your attentions.”
His flush deepened, and his pulse quickened. I was struck all over again by how beautiful he was—how extraordinary and simple his human masculinity was. If he were a warlock, I could almost believe he’d enchanted me.
Perhaps I was under his spell.
“I should get home,” Eli said softly, taking a step back. He jammed his hands into his pockets—maybe because he no longer trusted them. “I need to get Sam to bed. I’m sure she’s probably passed out on the couch.”
“You’re worried about her,” I remarked. “It’s in everything you do.”
He swallowed. “Yeah.”
“You graduated top of your class. Hundreds of miles away. You could’ve started a life anywhere.”
Eli was silent.
“You moved home to take care of her.”
He blinked rapidly and drew in a breath that hitched in his chest. “Yeah. She’s—she’s scaring me. Our dad just died of liver failure, and now she seems dead set on following in his footsteps. I’m the only person who still cares if she lives or dies.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility to carry.”
“She didn’t put that on me. And honestly? I’m angry with her. I know it’s not fair, but I am. And I’m angry with myself. If I could just say the right thing—”
He broke off, shaking his head.
“We’re sometimes overcome by compulsions we can’t control, Eli.”
“I know I need to give her love, but sometimes it’s hard to do that without feeling angry. And I keep thinking I’ll come home one day, and she might be gone. Maybe today was the day she had too much, and I wasn’t there to stop it. But I also—I feel helpless. I can’t stop it.”
The admission hung between us, and something lurched free in my chest—a desire to comfort him. It wasn’t familiar. It had nothing to do with sex or blood. It wasn’t the least bit predatory. Instead, it felt… raw. Like I was the one exposed, despite how vulnerable he’d just been with me.
“My God, I can’t believe I just told you all that,” Eli said, stricken. He let out a bitter laugh. “Wow, I’m really bad at this whole dating thing. My sister’s alcoholism is not appropriate first-date conversation.”
My human was beating himself up. Not on my watch. But what would a real person—a human, capable of empathy and kindness—say to him right now?
Oddly enough, it wasn’t as hard as I might have imagined.
“Nonsense, Doctor,” I breathed. “What you’ve just told me is that you’re a man experiencing something far bigger than himself.
You love your sister deeply, and you’re worried.
You’re feeling fear and anger. Maybe even some resentment.
There’s no crime in that. I’m certain what you’re feeling is probably quite human. ”
I paused, surprised at my own words. It wasn’t like me to make the effort to see anything—anything at all—from someone else’s perspective, nor to comfort anyone.
I finished with, “She’s exceedingly lucky to have you.”
My words, strange as they were, seemed to be the right thing. Eli drew in a shaky breath and nodded. He even flashed a small smile, though his eyes remained troubled. “Thank you.”
“Now, let’s get you home,” I said softly. “There’s always tomorrow for us to finish our questions. But right now, home is exactly where you’re needed.”
I realized then that this wasn’t about what I wanted—not the satisfaction of a kill, or the almost-as-good satisfaction of seduction. Not sex or violence or blood.
For the first time in a very long time, it wasn’t about me at all.
It was about what Eli needed.