16. The Secrets of Forever
Chapter sixteen
The Secrets of Forever
Julian
I watched Nicolette as she clung to her popcorn bowl, placing one kernel in her mouth at a time and chewing slowly.
Her gaze flicked between me and the screen.
Pirates of the Caribbean played in the background, Jack Sparrow swaggering across the deck while Nicolette’s trepidation grew with every sideways glance she gave me.
Her trepidation was . . . adorable. The messy bun, the pink hoodie, the matching boxer shorts—far too sexy for her to be unaware of it.
And that tiny smear of peanut butter from the popcorn at the corner of her lips nearly undid me.
I wanted to kiss it away. I dared not. My resolve was already thinning.
Not only because the plasma treatment was wearing off. My feelings for Nicolette were growing, and I had begun to wish—dangerously—that she might be my wife in more than name alone.
She held out the popcorn bowl to me. “Do you want some? You hardly touched your dinner. The pasta was amazing, by the way.”
“I’m not hungry for food tonight,” I admitted.
She tucked the bowl back onto her lap and rubbed her throat.
“I’m not hungry for you either,” I assured her quickly. “At least not in the way you’re thinking. I’m in complete control. I will not harm you.”
“Okay,” she squeaked. “But you’re hungry for . . . me?” she asked, voice small and bewildered.
I reached over, took a strand of hair that framed her heart-shaped face, and let it slip through my fingers. “Very.”
She blew out a huge breath. “Um . . .” Her voice pitched unnaturally high. “I was wondering, did you and Giovanna go on a honeymoon?”
As much as I loved Giovanna, I wasn’t going to let Nicolette get away with her deflection. Not tonight. Tonight was about her. I shifted closer to her on the pillows.
She tensed immediately, holding her breath and squeezing her eyes shut, as if sheer willpower could keep her attraction to me from showing.
“Nicolette,” I whispered. “You’ve been sharing my bed. I would like to think you trust me enough to know we won’t cross your boundaries—or mine.”
She cracked one eye open. “So . . . no on the honeymoon thing?”
I chuckled low. “You’re smart enough to know there were no such things as honeymoons back then.”
“I know. It just meant drinking mead—the ‘honey’—together after the wedding.”
I leaned in closer. Her pull on me was magnetic. “You are as intelligent as you are beautiful.”
“Julian, why are you being so . . . uh . . . romantic?”
“It’s our honeymoon.”
“But we aren’t really married, and I still kind of hate you,” she said with a smile. Oddly, it still stung.
“We are married,” I said softly, “and we might be for some time. I want you to know that despite how we came to be a couple, I genuinely care for you. At the very least, I wish us to be friends. We are treading dangerous waters together, after all.”
“Friends like we do each other’s hair and nails?” she teased.
“I’d love to brush your hair.”
A flood of pink rushed to her cheeks. The uptick in her pulse made my primal senses surge. I took a steadying breath, praying she didn’t notice how intensely I craved her.
“No man has ever brushed my hair before. I thought that only happened in the movies.”
“If you’d like, I can show you it’s very real indeed.”
“Um . . .” she said nervously, setting the popcorn bowl to the side.
“That’s okay. Have you brushed a lot of women’s hair?
Were you ever a hairstylist in a previous life?
” She was using humor—her favorite shield—again, trying to deflect how serious I was.
Not just about brushing her hair, but about her.
“No, I’ve never been a hairstylist.” I smirked. “But why are you so curious about the women in my past? Do you wish to compare yourself to them?”
She considered that for a moment. “Not to compare. It’s just .
. . you’ve lived many lives. And you wouldn’t have chosen to spend one of those lives with me if it weren’t for the plasma therapy.
So it makes me curious to know: someone who can have anyone, someone who knows so much about life and history—what kind of woman does that man choose to spend his time with? ”
“Nicolette, a woman like you wasn’t an option until the plasma treatment.”
“But you only chose me because of it.”
“I only knew of you because of it. There’s a difference.”
“Uh-huh. Nice try. I’m sure I really turned you on with my baggy overalls and ponytail.” She smirked and turned back to the movie and her popcorn.
I grinned and moved closer to her, remembering the first time I saw her sitting in a little downtown café, tucked into a corner by herself.
She was poring over a science journal, absentmindedly eating a salad.
Everyone else in the café overlooked her entirely.
But I noticed the way she smiled when she highlighted a passage and scribbled a note in the margin—brilliant insights that put the original author’s work to shame.
I noticed how kind she was to the server. And how she discreetly saved a woman who emerged from the restroom with her zipper down, handling it so gracefully that no one else saw.
She had no idea how luminous she was. How impossible she was to ignore.
“Nicolette,” I whispered in her ear, making her shiver.
“It didn’t have to be me. It could have been Cyrus.
But once I met you, I had to know you. And once I’d been given that chance, I knew I had to protect you.
You’re an incredible woman—the likes of which I’ve never known in all my many years of life.
You’re brave and intelligent, and your beauty is more than skin deep. It radiates from every part of you.”
I kissed her cheek and lingered, breathing in her sweet scent. Torturing myself. Testing the limits of my self-control. I wanted to know every part of her. I wanted her to know how beautiful she was to me.
“You talk pretty, Julian,” she breathed, her pulse hammering, doing me no favors.
“These aren’t just pretty words; I mean every one,” I assured her, nuzzling her neck, begging myself not to give in to my desires.
If I dared to capture her lips—and she reciprocated—I feared I would take it too far.
But I’d sworn I wouldn’t. I would do nothing to jeopardize her.
I forced myself to pull away. Still, I took her hand; the need to touch her was too overwhelming.
She squeezed my hand as if she sensed the turmoil raging inside me. She was perceptive enough to know I was becoming more myself. More of the monster I despised.
“What discovery do you think humans weren’t ready for yet?”
I knew what she was doing—trying to distract me. Clever woman. I would play along and pray it worked. I considered her question.
“I know of no discovery that didn’t cause angst. That didn’t make humans cling to what they already believed. Even lifesaving cures have been met with resistance. Humans are always afraid that if they give way to something new, it will take something from them.”
She turned toward me with a thoughtful gaze in her lovely green eyes. “Is that why vampires have hidden themselves all these years? Are they afraid of humans?”
“Perhaps in a manner of speaking. Most of us are wise enough to know what a frenzy them knowing about us would cause. Not only would it make humans question everything they believed, but the number of those wishing to become what we are would be absurd. Everyone thinks they want to live forever—until they actually do. And most would never understand the cost of it. Becoming a vampire is not a new lease on life. It is the opposite of life.”
“What do you mean?”
I let my gaze linger on her and her earnest curiosity. “The finiteness of life gives it meaning. Humans love and dream so fiercely because they know—subconsciously—that it could all end at any time. Mortality gives every choice weight.”
She tilted her head, considering my words.
“When the clock stops,” I continued, “so does something inside you. Purpose fades. Life fades. You stop growing and begin merely to endure. Immortality is not freedom; it’s stagnation.”
“But you’ve learned so much, and it’s obvious—judging by how your parents behave—that you can still love.
And the plasma treatment proves there must be something human about you.
Honestly, I can’t wait to analyze your blood.
To figure out what differentiates our genomes—the possible mutations, the pathways, the whole evolutionary detour you took.
Honestly, the thrill I get just imagining the possibilities . . . that’s living.” She grinned.
I raised her hand and kissed it. “You are the most adorable creature I have ever met, and that’s saying something.”
Nicolette smiled genuinely, as if she truly believed me.
A spark lit inside her, and suddenly she couldn’t speak fast enough.
“I’m sure Cyrus has sequenced your DNA. Do you know if it replicates normally or if it’s been stabilized?
I know you said not to tell him what we’re doing this weekend, but it would be good to have his research.
Surely he has some. Also, does he have any theories about how vampires came into existence?
What are the legends among your kind? Sometimes they’re rooted in truth. ”
“I will have to find a way to give you access to Cyrus’s research without alerting him.
It will be tricky, but valuable. The way he’s explained it is that our telomerase is permanently active, which keeps our chromosomes young.
But he also believes we carry a mutated receptor—one that only activates in the presence of human-specific proteins.
That’s why we require human blood. Or now, your mother’s plasma treatment. ”