Chapter 31 #2
I guess so. Bea squared her shoulders, and though she tried to march across the room, she probably looked more like a stray cat creeping under a porch. It was kind of undignified, since she was only wearing a blankie.
He didn’t move when she perched on the edge of the bed, though her hip sank into the mattress next to his blanket-covered knee. He simply watched her, probably not sure what crazy thing she’d do next.
The feeling was emphatically mutual. But Bea took a deep breath, fixing him with what she hoped was a no-nonsense look. “I’ve been thinking.”
No response save a further fractional head-tilt, maybe faintly puzzled, maybe saying go on. Which meant she had to take the plunge, or feel even more ridiculous. “I believe you,” she announced. “About my...about Jared. ”
“Ah.” Did his shoulders hunch, ever so slightly? “I regret not moving sooner on that matter.”
So far, so good. “And I’m sorry for staking you.”
“I did not mind so much.” A very slight smile, growing as she watched. His chin dropped slightly, and he shrugged, muscle rippling on his shoulders. “You seemed so determined, how could I refuse?”
Yeah, well. It was awkward to get her right hand untangled from the afghan; still, she managed. “Hi. I’m Bea Dunlevy. Nice to meet you.”
The smile remained, though he examined her fingers hanging in midair like he didn’t know what to do with them. Bea was beginning to think she’d violated some kind of bloodsucker etiquette by the time he took her hand in both of his.
“Hello.” Quiet and grave. “I am Lukas; it is an honor to make your acquaintance, lady mine.”
He lifted her hand, turned it over. Bea didn’t resist. Lukas pressed his lips gently to the inside of her wrist, and a soft, entirely inappropriate jolt of lightning flooded her entire body.
My hormones are so stupid. “You’re not going to let me go, are you.”
A small headshake, his mouth turning down for a moment.
“No.” He studied her for a moment, maybe expecting her to scream, and when she didn’t he continued.
“For a fledgling, every feeding is a temptation to glut, and every feast risks bloodcraze and true-death. When dawn loses its grip we are elder, but the risk of lethargy increases; we may starve from sheer anomie. The older one gets, the more calcification threatens and spreads; to stay flexible, engaged with the world, is extremely difficult. True-death looms ever closer, and the only cure is a leman. To be renewed with every moment spent in your company—do you think I would willingly give that up?”
Jesus. “If it’s so bad being...what you are, why would you ever make another person go through it? Am I going to—”
“Leman are immune to glut and ossification both—and to the killing sleep as well, though you will never achieve the speed and strength of an elder. You are a miracle, and will never know what you save your sanguinant from.” The soft earnestness was almost disarming, almost completely human.
“Do you see? None of my kind would willingly let one of your kind escape.”
“Is it this thing?” She couldn’t free her hand, had to tuck her chin to indicate the necklace. “Because if it is, I can just—”
“It is not the greisoul.” Patient as Jared explaining one of his conspiracy theories, accompanied by what very well might be an awful ring of truthfulness.
At least he didn’t hint she was stupid for not knowing, or for not listening more carefully to any explanations before now.
“It is rather some intrinsic quality—we do not know how or why, only that leman are rare, and to be prized. Consider that eventually my blood will grant you daywalking, and another sanguinant may be even less to your taste than myself. I am, at least, the beast you now know.”
That’s not really a plus. Bea’s chin set, the trademark stubborn look her parents always despaired of.
Jare thought her mulishness deeply hilarious; nobody ever understood it was her only defense against an entire goddamn world constantly finding her far less than second-best by comparison to him.
“So what now? What happens next?” Let’s get it over with, whatever it is.
“A few small matters must be attended to. Afterward, though...what would you like?” He cradled her hand in both of his, gently enough she could very nearly forget the crushing strength. “What does Beatrice Dunlevy want from life?”
I never thought much past the staking, honestly.
Bea found herself staring at his hands. His thumb moved slightly, stroking the underside of her wrist where his lips had pressed.
His skin felt normal now, not feverish; it was actually kind of soothing to be touched so gently.
“I don’t know,” she heard herself say, dully, and the familiar bite of shame from having to use those three little words was almost worse than sitting naked in a mildewed blanket or being pinned under and ravaged by a monster.
Next would come the disappointment, the withdrawal, the knowledge of never quite measuring up. And it was sounding like she had a longer-than-average lifespan to endure that curse, probably as payment for being the Dunlevy sibling safe in the house while the better one was dismembered.
“How wonderful,” Lukas said, softly. “When you decide, tell me.”
Bea’s eyes prickled. It wasn’t fair for a monster to sound so...she couldn’t find the word. “Okay, sure. Right now, though, I could do with a shower. And some clothes—that won’t be ripped off me,” she added, hastily.
“Of course.” Immediate agreement, though he didn’t let go of her hand. “I will do my best, kitten. Always.”