EYES CLOSED, EDYTHE STEPPED BLINDLY INTO THE LIGHT.
My heart jumped into my throat and I started sprinting toward her.
"Edythe!"
It was only when her eyes flashed open and I got close enough to begin to understand what I was seeing that I realized she hadn't caught on fire. She threw up her hand again, palm forward, and I stumbled to a stop, almost falling to my knees.
The light blazed off her skin, danced in prism-like rainbows across her face and neck, down her arms. She was so bright that I had to squint, like I was trying to stare at the sun.
I thought about falling to my knees on purpose. This was the kind of beauty you worshipped. The kind you built temples for and offered sacrifices to. I wished I had something in my empty hands to give her, but what would a goddess want from a mediocre mortal like me?
It took me a while to see past her incandescence to the expression on her face. She was watching me with wide eyes—it almost looked like she was afraid of something. I took a step toward her, and she cringed just slightly.
"Does that hurt you?" I whispered.
"No," she whispered back.
I took another step toward her—she was the magnet again, and I was just a helpless piece of dull metal. She let her warning hand drop to her side. As she moved, the fire shimmered down her arm. Slowly, I circled around her, keeping my distance, just needing to absorb this, to see her from every angle. The sun played off her skin, refracting and magnifying every color light could hold. My eyes were adjusting, and they opened wide with wonder.
I knew that she'd chosen her clothes with care, that she'd been determined to show me this, but the way she held herself now, shoulders tight, legs braced, made me wonder if she wasn't second-guessing the decision now.
I finished my circle, then closed the last few feet between us. I couldn't stop staring, even to blink.
"Edythe," I breathed.
"Are you scared now?" she whispered.
"No."
She stared searchingly into my eyes, trying to hear what I was thinking.
I reached toward her, deliberately unhurried, watching her face for permission. Her eyes opened even wider, and she froze. Carefully, slowly, I let my fingertips graze the glistening skin on the back of her arm. I was surprised to find it just as cold as ever. While my fingers were touching her, the reflections of the fire flickered against my skin, and suddenly my hand wasn't mediocre anymore. She was so astonishing that she could make even me less ordinary.
"What are you thinking?" she whispered.
I struggled to find words. "I am… I didn't know…" I took a deep breath, and the words finally came. "I've never seen anything more beautiful—never imagined anything so beautiful could exist."
Her eyes were still wary. Like she thought I was saying what I thought she wanted to hear. But it was only the truth, maybe the truest, most uncensored thing I'd ever said in my life. I was too overwhelmed to filter or pretend.
She started to lift her hand, then dropped it. The shimmer flared. "It's very strange, though," she murmured.
"Amazing," I breathed.
"Aren't you repulsed by my flagrant lack of humanity?"
I shook my head. "Not repulsed."
Her eyes narrowed. "You should be."
"I'm feeling like humanity is pretty overrated."
She pulled her arm from under my fingertips and folded it behind her back. Rather than take her cue, I took a half-step closer to her. I could feel the reflected shine on my face.
And she was suddenly ten feet away from me, her warning hand up again and her jaw clenched.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"I need some time," she told me.
"I'll be more careful."
She nodded, then walked to the middle of the meadow, making a little arc when she passed me, keeping those ten feet always between us. She sat down with her back to me, the sunlight incandescent across her shoulder blades, reminding me of wings again. I walked slowly closer, and then sat down facing her when I was about five feet away.
"Is this all right?"
She nodded, but she didn't look sure. "Just let me… concentrate."
I sat, silent, and after a few seconds, she shut her eyes again. I was fine with that. Seeing her like this—it wasn't something you could get tired of. I watched her, trying to understand the phenomenon, and she ignored me.
It was about a half hour later that suddenly she lay back on the grass with one hand behind her head. The grass was long enough to partially obscure my view.
"Can I…?" I asked.
She patted the ground beside her.
I moved a few feet closer, then another foot when she didn't object. Another few inches.
Her eyes were still closed, lids glistening pale lavender over the dark fan of lashes. Her chest rose and fell evenly, almost like she was asleep, except there was somehow a sense of effort and control to the motion. She seemed very aware of the process of breathing in and out.
I sat with my legs folded under me, my elbows on my knees and my chin on my hands. It was very warm—the sun felt strange on my skin now that I was so used to the rain—and the meadow was still lovely, but it was just background now. It didn't stand out. I had a new definition of beauty.
Her lips moved, and the light glittered off them while they… almost trembled. I thought she might have spoken, but the words were too quiet, and too fast.
"Did you… say something?" I whispered. Sitting next to her like this, watching her shine, made me feel the need for quiet. For reverence, even.
"Just singing to myself," she murmured. "It calms me."
We didn't move for a long time—except for her lips, every now and then singing too low for me to hear. An hour might have passed, maybe more. Very gradually, the tension that I hadn't totally processed at first drained quietly away, till everything was so peaceful that I was almost sleepy. Every time I shifted my weight, I would end up another half-inch nearer to her.
I leaned closer, studying her hand, trying to find the facets in her smooth skin. Without even thinking about it, I reached out with one finger to stroke the back of her hand, awed again by the satin-smooth texture, cool like stone. I felt her eyes on me and I looked up, my finger frozen.
Her eyes were peaceful, and she was smiling.
"I still don't scare you, do I?"
"Nope. Sorry."
She smiled wider. Her teeth flashed in the sun.
I inched closer again, stretched out my whole hand to trace the shape of her forearm with my fingertips. I saw that my fingers were trembling. Her eyes closed again.
"Do you mind?" I asked.
"No. You can't imagine how that feels."
I lightly trailed my hand over the delicate structure of her arm, followed the faint pattern of bluish veins inside the crease at her elbow. I reached to turn her hand over, and when she realized what I wanted, she flipped her palm up in a movement so fast it didn't exist. My fingers froze.
Sorry," she murmured, and then smiled because that was my line. Her eyes slid closed again. "It's too easy to be myself with you."
I lifted her hand, turning it this way and that I as watched the sun shimmer across her palm. I held it closer to my face, trying again to find the facets.
"Tell me what you're thinking," she whispered. She was watching me again, her eyes as light as I'd ever seen them. Pale honey. "It's still so strange for me, not knowing."
"The rest of us feel that way all the time, you know."
"It's a hard life," she said, and there was a forlorn note in her tone. "But you didn't tell me."
"I was wishing I could know what you were thinking.…"
"And?"
"I was wishing that I could believe that you were real. I'm afraid.…"
"I don't want you to be afraid." Her voice was just a low murmur. We both heard what she hadn't said—that I didn't need to be afraid, that there was nothing to fear.
"That's not the kind of fear I meant."
So quickly that I missed the movement completely, she was half-sitting, propped up on her right arm, her left palm still in my hands. Her angel's face was only a few inches from mine. I should have leaned away. I was supposed to be careful.
Her honey eyes burned.
"Then what are you afraid of?" she whispered.
I couldn't answer. I smelled her sweet, cool breath in my face, like I had just the one time before. Unthinkingly, I leaned closer, inhaling.
And she was gone, her hand ripped from mine so fast that they stung. In the time it took my eyes to focus, she was twenty feet away, standing at the edge of the small meadow, deep in the shade of a huge fir tree. She stared at me, eyes dark in the shadows, her expression unreadable.
I could feel the shock on my face, and my hands burned.
"Edythe. I'm… sorry." My voice was just a whisper, but I knew she could hear me.
"Give me a moment," she called, just loud enough for my less sensitive ears.
I sat very still.
After ten very long seconds, she walked back, slowly for her. She stopped when she was still several feet away and sank gracefully to the ground, crossing her legs underneath her. Her eyes never left mine. She took two deep breaths, then smiled apologetically.
"I am so very sorry." She hesitated. "Would you understand what I meant if I said I was only human?"
I nodded, not quite able to smile at her joke. Adrenaline pushed through my system as I realized what had almost happened. She could smell that from where she sat. Her smile turned mocking.
"I'm the world's best predator, aren't I? Everything about me invites you in—my voice, my face, even my smell. As if I needed any of that!"
Suddenly she was just a blur. I blinked and she'd vanished; then she was standing beneath the same tree as before, having circled the entire meadow in a fraction of a second.
"As if you could outrun me," she said bitterly.
She leaped a dozen feet straight up, grabbing a two-foot-thick branch and wrenching it away from the trunk without any sign of effort. She was back on the ground in the same instant, balancing the huge, gnarled lance in one hand for just a second. Then with blinding speed she swung it—one-handed—like a bat at the tree she'd ripped it from.
With an explosive boom, both the branch and the tree shattered in half.
Before I even had time to shy away from the detonation, before the tree could even fall to the ground, she was right in front of me again, just two feet away, still as a sculpture.
"As if you could fight me off," she said gently. Behind her, the sound of the tree crashing to the earth echoed through the forest.
I'd never seen her so completely freed of her careful human façade. She'd never been less human… or more beautiful. I couldn't move, like a bird trapped by the eyes of a snake.
Her eyes seemed to glow with excitement. Then, as the seconds passed, they dimmed. Her expression slowly folded into a mask of sadness. She looked like she was about to cry, and I struggled up to my knees, one hand reaching toward her.
She held out her hand, cautioning me. "Wait."
I froze again.
She took one step toward me. "Don't be afraid," she murmured, and her velvet voice was unintentionally seductive. "I promise…" She hesitated. "I swear I will not hurt you." She seemed like she was trying to convince herself just as much as she was trying to convince me.
"You don't have to be afraid," she whispered again as she stepped closer with exaggerated slowness. She stopped just a foot away and gently touched her hand to the one I still had stretched toward her. I wrapped mine around hers tightly.
"Please forgive me," she said in a formal tone. "I can control myself. You caught me off guard. I'm on my best behavior now."
She waited for me to respond, but I just knelt there in front of her, staring, my brain totally scrambled.
"I'm not thirsty today, honestly." She winked.
That made me laugh, though my laugh sounded a little winded.
"Are you all right?" she asked, reaching out—slowly, carefully—to put her other hand on top of mine.
I looked at her smooth, marble hand, and then at her eyes. They were soft, repentant, but I could see some of the sadness still in them.
I smiled up at her so widely that my cheeks hurt. Her answering smile was dazzling.
With a deliberately unhurried, sinuous movement, she sank down, curling her legs beneath her. Awkwardly I copied her, till we were sitting facing each other, knees touching, our hands still wrapped together between us.
"So where were we, before I behaved so rudely?"
"I honestly have no idea."
She smiled, but her face was ashamed. "I think we were talking about why you were afraid, besides the obvious reason."
"Oh, right."
"Well?"
I looked down at our hands, turning mine so that the light would glisten across hers.
"How easily frustrated I am," she sighed.
I looked into her eyes, suddenly realizing that this was every bit as new to her as it was to me. However many years of experience she'd had before we'd met, this was hard for her, too. That made me braver.
"I was afraid… because for, well, obvious reasons, I probably can't stay with you, can I? And that's what I want, much more than I should."
"Yes," she agreed slowly. "Being with me has never been in your best interest."
I frowned.
"I should have left that first day and not come back. I should leave now." She shook her head. "I might have been able to do it then. I don't know how to do it now."
"Don't. Please."
Her face turned brittle. "Don't worry. I'm essentially a selfish creature. I crave your company too much to do what I should."
"Good!"
She glared, carefully extricating her hands from mine and then folding them across her chest. Her voice was harsher when she spoke again.
"You should never forget that it's not only your company I crave. Never forget that I am more dangerous to you than I am to anyone else." She stared unseeingly into the forest.
I thought for a moment.
"I don't think I understand exactly what you mean by that last part."
She looked back and smiled at me, her unpredictable mood shifting again.
"How do I explain? And without horrifying you?"
Without seeming to think about it, she placed her hand back in mine. I held it tightly. She looked at our hands.
"That's amazingly pleasant, the warmth."
A moment passed while she seemed to be arranging her thoughts.
"You know how everyone enjoys different flavors?" she began. "Some people love chocolate ice cream, others prefer strawberry?"
I nodded.
"I apologize for the food analogy—I couldn't think of another way to explain."
I grinned and she grinned back, but her smile was rueful.
"You see, every person has their own scent, their own essence.… If you locked an alcoholic in a room full of stale beer, she'd drink it. But she could resist, if she wished to, if she were a recovering alcoholic. Now let's say you placed in that room a glass of hundred-year-old brandy, the rarest, finest cognac—and filled the room with its warm aroma—how do you think our alcoholic would fare then?"
We sat in silence for a minute, staring into each other's eyes, trying to read each other's thoughts.
She broke the silence first.
"Maybe that's not the right comparison. Maybe it would be too easy to turn down the brandy. Perhaps I should have made our alcoholic a heroin addict instead."
"So what you're saying is, I'm your brand of heroin?" I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
She smiled swiftly, seeming to appreciate my effort. "Yes, you are exactly my brand of heroin."
"Does that happen often?" I asked.
She looked across the treetops, thinking through her response.
"I spoke to my sisters about it." She still stared into the distance. "To Jessamine, every one of you is much the same. She's the most recent to join our family. It's a struggle for her to abstain at all. She hasn't had time to grow sensitive to the differences in smell, in flavor." She glanced swiftly at me. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine. Look, don't worry about offending me, or horrifying me, or whatever. That's the way you think. I can understand, or I can try to at least. Just explain however it makes sense to you."
She took a deep breath and stared past me.
"So Jessamine wasn't sure if she'd ever come across someone who was as"—she hesitated, looking for the right word—"appealing as you are to me. Which makes me think not." Her eyes flickered to me. "She would remember this."
She looked away again. "El has been on the wagon longer, so to speak, and she understood what I meant. She says twice, for her, once stronger than the other."
"And for you?"
"Never before this."
We stared at each other again. This time I broke the silence.
"What did Eleanor do?"
It was the wrong question to ask. She cringed, and her face was suddenly tortured. I waited, but she didn't add anything.
"Okay, so I guess that was a dumb question."
She stared at me with eyes that pleaded for understanding. "Even the strongest of us fall off the wagon, don't we?"
"Are you… asking for my permission?" I whispered. A shiver rolled down my spine that had nothing to do with my freezing hands.
Her eyes flew wide in shock. "No!"
"But you're saying there's no hope, right?"
I knew it wasn't normal, facing death like this without any real sense of fear. It wasn't that I was super brave, I knew that. It was just that I wouldn't have chosen differently, even knowing it would end this way.
She looked angry again, but I didn't think she was angry with me. "Of course there's hope. Of course I won't…" She left the sentence hanging. Her eyes felt like they were physically burning mine. "It's different for us. El… these were strangers she happened across. It was a long time ago. She wasn't as practiced, as careful as she is now. And she's never been as good at this as I am."
She fell silent, watching me intently as I thought it through.
"So if we'd met… oh, in a dark alley or something…"
"It took everything I had—every single year of practice and sacrifice and effort—not to jump up in the middle of that class full of children and—" She broke off, her eyes darting away from me. "When you walked past me, I could have ruined everything Carine has built for us, right then and there. If I hadn't been denying my thirst for the last… too many years, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself."
She stared at me grimly, both of us remembering.
"You must have thought I was possessed."
"I couldn't understand why. How you could hate me, just like that…"
"To me, it was like you were some kind of demon, summoned straight from my own personal hell to ruin me. The fragrance coming off your skin… I thought it would make me deranged that first day. In that one hour, I thought of a hundred different ways to lure you from the room with me, to get you alone. And I fought them each back, thinking of my family, what I could do to them. I had to run out, to get away before I could speak the words that would make you follow.…"
She looked up then, her golden eyes scorching from under her lashes, hypnotic and deadly.
"You would have come," she promised.
I tried to speak calmly. "No doubt about it."
She frowned at our hands. "And then, as I tried to rearrange my schedule in a pointless attempt to avoid you, there you were—in that close, warm little room, the scent was maddening. I so very nearly took you then. There was only one other frail human there—so easily dealt with."
It was so strange, seeing my memories again, but this time with subtitles. Understanding for the first time what it had all meant, understanding the danger. Poor Mr. Cope. I flinched at the thought of how close I'd come to being inadvertently responsible for his death.
"But I resisted. I don't know how. I forced myself not to wait for you, not to follow you from the school. It was easier outside, when I couldn't smell you anymore, to think clearly, to make the right decision. I left the others near home—I was too ashamed to tell them how weak I was, they only knew something was very wrong—and then I went straight to Carine, at the hospital, to tell her I was leaving."
I stared in surprise.
"I traded cars with her—she had a full tank of gas and I was afraid to stop. I didn't dare to go home, to face Earnest. He wouldn't have let me go without a fight. He would have tried to convince me that it wasn't necessary.…
"By the next morning I was in Alaska." She sounded ashamed, as if she was admitting some huge display of cowardice. "I spent two days there, with some old acquaintances… but I was homesick. I hated knowing I'd upset Earnest, and the rest of them, my adopted family. In the pure air of the mountains it was hard to believe you were so irresistible. I convinced myself it was weak to run away. I'd dealt with temptation before, not of this magnitude, not even close, but I was strong. Who were you, an insignificant human boy"—she grinned suddenly—"to chase me from the place I wanted to be? Ah, the deadly sin of pride." She shook her head. "So I came back.…"
I couldn't speak.
"I took precautions, hunting, feeding more than usual before seeing you again. I was sure that I was strong enough to treat you like any other human. I was arrogant about it.
"It was unquestionably a complication that I couldn't simply read your thoughts to know what your reaction was to me. I wasn't used to having to go to such circuitous measures, listening to your words in Jeremy's mind.… His mind isn't very original, and it was annoying to have to stoop to that. And then I couldn't know if you really meant what you were saying, or just saying what you thought your audience wanted to hear. It was all extremely irritating." She frowned at the memory.
"I wanted you to forget my behavior that first day, if possible, so I tried to talk with you like I would with any person. I was eager, actually, hoping to decipher some of your thoughts. But you were too interesting, I found myself caught up in your expressions… and every now and then you would move and the air would stir around you.… The scent would stun me again.…
"Of course, then you were nearly crushed to death in front of my eyes. Later I thought of a perfectly good excuse for why I acted at that moment—because if I hadn't saved you, if your blood had been spilled there in front of me, I don't think I could have stopped myself from exposing us for what we are. But I only thought of that excuse later. At the time, all I could think was, Not him."
She shut her eyes, her expression agonized. For a long moment she was silent. I waited eagerly, which probably wasn't the brightest reaction. But it was such a relief to finally understand the other half of the story.
"In the hospital?" I asked.
Her eyes flashed up to mine. "I was appalled. I couldn't believe I had put us in danger after all, put myself in your power—you of all people. As if I needed another motive to kill you." We both flinched as that word slipped out, and she continued quickly. "But the disaster had the opposite effect. I fought with Royal, El, and Jessamine when they suggested that now was the time… the worst fight we've ever had. Carine sided with me, and Archie." She frowned sourly when she said his name. I couldn't imagine why. "Earnest told me to do whatever I had to in order to stay." She shook her head, a little indulgent smile on her lips.
"All that next day I eavesdropped on the minds of everyone you spoke to, shocked that you kept your word. I didn't understand you at all. But I knew that I couldn't become more involved with you. I did my very best to stay as far from you as possible. And every day the perfume of your skin, your breath… it hit me as hard as the very first day."
She met my eyes again, and hers were oddly tender.
"And for all that," she continued, "I'd have fared better if I had exposed us all at that first moment, than if now, here—with no witnesses and nothing to stop me—I were to hurt you."
"Why?"
"Oh, Beau." She touched my cheekbone lightly with her fingertips. A shock ran through me at this casual contact. "Beau, I couldn't survive hurting you. You don't know how it's tortured me"—she looked down, ashamed again—"the thought of you, still, white, cold… to never see your face turn red again, to never see that flash of intuition in your eyes when you see through my pretenses… I couldn't bear it." She lifted her glorious, agonized eyes to mine. "You are the most important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever."
My head was spinning at this rapid change in direction. Just minutes ago I'd thought we were talking about my imminent death. Now, suddenly, we were making declarations.
I gripped her hand tighter, staring into her golden eyes.
"You already know how I feel. I'm here because I would rather die with you than live without you." I realized how melodramatic that sounded. "Sorry, I'm an idiot."
"You are an idiot," she agreed with a laugh, and I laughed with her. This whole situation was idiocy—and impossibility and magic.
"And so the lion fell in love with the lamb," she murmured. The word was like another electric jolt to my system.
I tried to cover my reaction. "What a stupid lamb."
She sighed. "What a sick, masochistic lion."
She stared into the forest for a long time, and I wondered what she was thinking.
"Why…?" I began, but then paused, not sure how to continue.
She looked at me and smiled; sunlight shimmered off her face, her teeth. "Yes?"
"Tell me why you ran away from me before."
Her smile faded. "You know why."
"No, I mean, exactly what did I do wrong? I need to learn how to make this easier for you, what I should and shouldn't do. This, for example"—I stroked my thumb across her wrist—"seems to be all right."
"You didn't do anything wrong, Beau. It was my fault."
"But I want to help."
"Well…" She thought for a moment. "It was just how close you were. Most humans instinctively shy away from us, are repelled by our alienness.… I wasn't expecting you to come so close. And the smell of your throat—" She broke off, looking to see if she'd upset me.
"Okay." I tucked my chin. "No throat exposure."
She grinned. "No, really, it was more the surprise than anything else."
She raised her free hand and placed it gently on the side of my neck. I held very still, recognizing that the chill of her touch was supposed to be a natural warning, and wondering why I couldn't feel that. I felt something else entirely.
"You see?" she said. "Perfectly fine."
My blood was racing, and I wished I could slow it down. It must make everything so much more difficult for her—the thudding pulse in my veins.
"I love that," she murmured. She carefully freed her other hand. My hands fell limp into my lap. Softly she brushed her hand across the warm patch in my cheek, then held my face between her small, cold hands.
"Be very still," she whispered.
I was paralyzed as she suddenly leaned into me, resting her cheek against my chest—listening to my heart. I could feel the ice of her skin through my thin shirt. With deliberate slowness her hands moved to my shoulders and her arms wrapped around my neck, holding me tight against her. I listened to the sound of her careful, even breathing, which seemed to be keeping time with my heartbeats. One breath in for every three beats, one breath out for another three.
"Ah," she said.
I don't know how long we sat without moving. It could have been hours. Eventually, the throb of my pulse quieted. I knew at any moment it could be too much, and my life could end—so quickly that I might not even notice. And I still wasn't afraid. I couldn't think of anything, except that she was touching me.
And then, too soon, she unwrapped her arms from around my neck and leaned away. Her eyes were peaceful again.
"It won't be so hard again," she said with satisfaction.
"Was that very hard for you?"
"Not nearly as bad as I imagined it would be. And you?"
"No, that wasn't… bad for me."
We smiled at each other.
"Here." She picked up my hand—easily, like she didn't even have to think about it—and placed it against her cheek. "Do you feel how warm you've made me?"
And it was almost warm, her usually icy skin. But I barely noticed, because I was touching her face, something I'd been dreaming and fantasizing about constantly since the first day I'd seen her.
"Don't move," I whispered.
No one could be still like a vampire. She closed her eyes and turned into a statue.
I moved even more slowly than she had, careful not to make one unexpected move. I stroked her cheek, let my fingertips graze across her lavender eyelids, the shadows in the hollows under her eyes. I traced the shape of her straight nose, and then, so carefully, her perfect lips. Her lips parted and I could feel her cool breath on my fingertips. I wanted to lean in, to inhale her scent, but I knew that might be too much. If she could control herself, so could I—if only on a much smaller scale.
I tried to move in slow motion so that she could guess everything I would do before I did it. I let my palms slide down the sides of her slender neck, let them rest on her shoulders while my thumbs followed the impossibly fragile curve of her collarbones.
She was much stronger than I was, in so many ways. I seemed to lose control of my hands as they skimmed over the points of her shoulders and down across her sharp shoulder blades. I couldn't stop myself as my arms wrapped around her, pulling her against my chest again. My hands crossed behind her and wrapped around either side of her waist.
She leaned into me, but that was the only movement. She wasn't breathing.
So that gave me a time limit.
I bent down to press my face into her hair for one long second, inhaling a deep lungful of her scent. Then I forced myself to peel my hands off her and move away. One of my hands wouldn't obey completely; it trailed down her arm and settled on her wrist.
"Sorry," I muttered.
She opened her eyes, and they were hungry. Not in a way to make me afraid, but in a way that made the muscles in the pit of my stomach tighten into knots and sent my pulse hammering through my veins again.
"I wish…," she whispered, "I wish that you could feel the… complexity… the confusion… I feel. That you could understand."
She raised her hand to my face, then ran her fingers quickly through my hair.
"Tell me," I breathed.
"I don't know if I can. You know, on the one hand, the hunger—the thirst—that, being what I am, I feel for you. And I think you can understand that, to an extent. Though"—and she half-smiled—"as you are not addicted to any illegal substances, you probably can't empathize completely.
"But…" Her fingers touched my lips lightly, and my heart raced. "There are other things I want, other hungers. Hungers I don't even understand myself."
"I might understand that better than you think."
"I'm not used to feeling so human. Is it always like this?"
"For me?" I paused. "No, never. Never before this."
She put her hands on both sides of my face. "I don't know how to be close to you. I don't know if I can."
I put my hand over hers, then leaned forward slowly till my forehead was touching hers.
"This is enough," I sighed, closing my eyes.
We sat like that for a moment, and then her fingers moved into my hair. She angled her face up and pressed her lips to my forehead. The rhythm of my pulse exploded into a jagged sprint.
"You're a lot better at this than you give yourself credit for," I said when I could speak again.
She leaned away, taking my hands again. "I was born with human instincts—they may be buried deep, but they exist."
We stared at each other for another immeasurable moment; I wondered if she was as unwilling to move as I was. But the light was fading, the shadows of the trees almost touching us.
"You have to go."
"I thought you couldn't read my mind."
She smiled. "It's getting clearer."
A sudden excitement flared in her eyes. "Can I show you something?"
"Anything."
She grinned. "How about a faster way back to the truck?"
I looked at her warily.
"Don't you want to see how I travel in the forest?" she pressed. "I promise it's safe."
"Will you… turn into a bat?"
She burst into laughter. "Like I haven't heard that one before!"
"Right, I'm sure you get that all the time."
She was on her feet in another invisibly fast motion. She offered me her hand, and I jumped up next to her. She whirled around and looked back at me over her shoulder.
"Climb on my back."
I blinked. "Huh?"
"Don't be a coward, Beau, I promise this won't hurt."
She stood there waiting with her back toward me, totally serious.
Edythe, I don't… I mean, how?"
She spun back to me, one eyebrow raised. "Surely you're familiar with the concept of a piggyback ride?"
I shrugged. "Sure, but…"
"What's the problem, then?"
"Well… you're so small."
She blew out an exasperated breath, then vanished. This time I felt the wind from her passage. A second later, she was back with a boulder in one hand.
An actual boulder. One that she must have ripped out of the ground, because the bottom half was covered in clinging dirt and spidery roots. It would be as high as her waist if she set it down. She tilted her head to one side.
"That's not what I meant. I'm not saying you're not strong enough—"
She flipped the boulder lightly over her shoulder, and it sailed well past the edge of the forest and then crashed down to earth with the sound of shattering wood and stone.
"Obviously," I went on. "But I… How would I fit?" I looked at my too-long legs and then back to her delicate frame.
She turned her back to me again. "Trust me."
Feeling like the stupidest, most awkward person in all of history, I hesitantly put my arms around her neck.
"Come on," she said impatiently. She reached back with one hand and grabbed my leg, yanking my knee up past her hip.
"Whoa!"
But she already had my other leg, and instead of toppling backward, she easily supported my weight. She moved my legs into position around her waist. My face was burning, and I knew I must look like a gorilla on a greyhound.
"Am I hurting you?"
"Please, Beau."
Embarrassed as I was, I was also very aware that my arms and legs were wrapped tightly around her slender body.
Suddenly she grabbed my hand and pressed my palm to her face. She inhaled deeply.
"Easier all the time," she said.
And then she was running.
For the first time, I felt actual fear for my life. Terror.
She streaked through the forest like a bullet, like a ghost. There was no sound, no evidence that her feet ever touched the ground. Her breathing never changed, never indicated any effort. But the trees flew by at deadly speeds, always missing us by inches.
I was too shocked to close my eyes, though the cool air whipped against my face and burned them. It felt like I was sticking my head out the window of an airplane in flight.
Then it was over. We'd hiked hours this morning to reach Edythe's meadow, and now, in a matter of minutes—not even minutes, seconds—we were back to the truck.
"Exhilarating, isn't it?" Her voice was high, excited.
She stood motionless, waiting for me to unwind my legs and step away from her. I did try, but I couldn't get my muscles to unfreeze. My arms and legs stayed locked while my head spun uncomfortably.
"Beau?" she asked, anxious now.
"I might need to lie down," I gasped.
"Oh. I'm sorry."
It took me a few seconds to remember how to loosen my fingers. Then everything seemed to come undone at the same time, and I half-fell off her, stumbling backward until I lost my footing and finished the other half of the fall.
She held out her hand, trying not to laugh, but I refused her offer. Instead, I stayed down and put my head between my knees. My ears were ringing and my head whirled in queasy circles.
A cold hand rested lightly against the back of my neck. It helped.
"I guess that wasn't the best idea," she mused.
I tried to be positive, but my voice was hollow. "No, it was very interesting."
"Hah! You're as white as a ghost—no, worse, you're as white as me!"
"I think I should have closed my eyes."
"Remember that next time."
I looked up, startled. "Next time?"
She laughed, her mood still flying.
"Show-off," I muttered, and put my head down again.
After a half-minute, the swirling motion slowed.
"Look at me, Beau."
I lifted my head, and she was right there, her face just inches from mine. Her beauty was like a sucker punch that left me stunned. I couldn't get used to it.
"I was thinking, while I was running—"
"About not hitting trees, I hope," I interrupted breathlessly.
"Silly Beau. Running is second nature to me. It's not something I have to think about."
"Show-off," I muttered again.
She smiled. "No, I was thinking there was something I wanted to try." She put her hands on my face again.
I couldn't breathe.
She hesitated. It felt like a test, making sure this was safe, that she was still in control of herself.
And then her cold, perfect lips pressed very softly against mine.
Neither of us was ready for my reaction.
Blood boiled under my skin, burned in my lips. My breath came in a wild gasp. My fingers tangled in her hair, locking her face to mine. My lips opened as I breathed in her heady scent.
Immediately, she turned to unresponsive stone beneath my lips. Her hands gently, but forcibly, pushed my face back. I opened my eyes and saw her expression.
"Whoops," I said.
"That's an understatement."
Her eyes were wild, her jaw clenched in restraint. My face was still just inches from hers, my fingers twisted through her hair.
"Should I…?" I tried to disengage myself, to give her some room.
Her hands didn't release me.
"No, it's tolerable. Wait for a moment, please." Her voice was polite, controlled.
I kept my eyes on hers, watching as the excitement in them faded and gentled.
She grinned, obviously pleased with herself. "There."
"Tolerable?" I asked.
She laughed. "I'm stronger than I thought. It's nice to know."
"And I'm not. Sorry."
"You are only human, after all."
I sighed. "Yeah."
She freed her hair from my fingers, and then she was on her feet in one of her lithe, nearly invisible movements. She held her hand out again, and this time I took it and pulled myself up. I needed the support; my balance hadn't returned yet. I wobbled slightly as I took a step away from her.
"Are you still reeling from the run, or was it my kissing expertise?" She seemed very human as she laughed now, careless and lighthearted. She was a new Edythe, different than the one I'd known, and I was even more besotted by her. It would cause me physical pain to be separated from her now.
"Both."
"Maybe you should let me drive."
"Uh, I think I've had enough of your need for speed for today.…"
"I can drive better than you on your best day," she said. "You have much slower reflexes."
"I believe you, but I don't think my truck could handle your driving."
"Some trust, please, Beau."
My hand curled around the key in my pocket. I pursed my lips, like I was deliberating, then shook my head with a tight grin.
"Nope. Not a chance."
She raised her eyebrows, grabbed a fistful of my t-shirt, and yanked. I nearly stumbled into her, catching myself with one hand against her shoulder.
"Beau, I've already expended a great deal of personal effort at this point to keep you alive. I'm not about to let you get behind the wheel of a vehicle when you can't even walk straight. Friends don't let friends drive drunk."
"Drunk?" I objected.
She leaned up on her tiptoes so that her face was closer to mine. I could smell the unbearably sweet fragrance of her breath. "You're intoxicated by my very presence."
"I can't argue with that." I sighed. There was no way around it—I couldn't resist her in anything. I held the key high and dropped it, watching her hand flash like lightning to catch it without a sound. "Take it easy. My truck is a senior citizen."
"Very sensible."
She dropped my shirt and ducked out from under my hand.
"So you're not affected at all? By my presence?"
She turned back and reached for my hand, holding it to her face again. She leaned into my palm, her eyes sliding closed. She took a slow, deep breath.
"Regardless…," she murmured. Her eyes flashed open and she grinned. "I have better reflexes."