Leaning forward, Kerestyan rested his elbows on the table. “Logan, can I ask you a question?”
She stopped and slowly turned to face him. “Considering how many I’ve asked you, I suppose you deserve one.” The corners of her lips rose slightly, but her smile went no farther.
“What happened to make you see the world the way you do?”
Silence stung the air as she lowered her eyes to the floor. She stared down at the tiles for a few moments before she turned to give him her profile, a breathtaking masterpiece of haunted distance. “There’s a moment when you realize all your worst fears have come true. When the fat girl stuffing her face in the corner finally recognizes food gives her the comfort she can’t find in anyone else. When the gorgeous man with the body of a God realizes he changes women like shoes because he’s scared one won’t find enough reason to stay. When you see the world for what it really is, see it for all the horrors the news can’t or won’t report. There’s a moment when you realize and accept that you are the worthless piece of shit your father always said you were, because even a diseased crack-head wouldn’t kill their own sister. It was a moment, Kerestyan, a defining moment…an epiphany of imperfection.”
Kerestyan felt a sting in his chest as tears filled her eyes. The last thing he’d meant to do was conjure a memory that hurt her. He wanted to know more, but he didn’t dare ask. “I’m sorry if my question upset you.”
She wiped a tear away as it fell on her cheek. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.” She slowly approached the table and sat down on the edge closest to him, her eyes searching his face. “Do you ever regret what you are?”
He reached out and took one of her hands in his. Never once, not even by his siblings, had he ever been asked such a question. “No, I can’t say I do. I regret some of the terrible things I’ve done in my past, but I can’t remember a time when I ever felt pity for what I am.” He stilled as she flipped his hand over and traced a warm finger over the faint scar marring his palm. “When I was turned, there was no greater honor than being chosen for immortality. Giving up the sun and the fruit of the land was a small price to pay in return for what I was able to do for my family and my people.”
“Your people?” One corner of her mouth curved up. “You weren’t named Moses in another life, were you?”
He chuckled. “No. I wasn’t Moses.” He laced his fingers between hers and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “I used the gifts my Father’s blood granted me, my superior speed, strength and resilience, to defend my family and my lands. Back then, vampires didn’t hide from humans as we do now. They knew we existed the way they knew it was morning. We, rightfully or not, were cherished. Some of us were worshiped as Gods for our abilities; others didn’t want the sacrifices or glory.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “So that’s why Odin is Odin.”
He studied the back of her hand, admiring the intricate framework of light blue veins beneath her soft, pale skin. “Yes.”
“But you were one of the others.”
He nodded as bittersweet memories flickered in his mind. “I didn’t want my name scrawled across the pages of history. I fought for what was right, what I believed in. I wore the armor of a knight, in a time when causes were more than empty words and broken promises.” He raised his head when he felt the heat of Logan’s eyes on him.
Her expression lingered between understanding and puzzlement. “Do you wish you could go back? To those times?”
“Some days I do. Some days I wish I could step into the night and smell clean, crisp air again. Feel a warm breeze on my skin from when the world was fresh and pure, before cars and pollution and smog. But there are other days, mainly during spring and summer, when I walk through this city just after sunset, while the pavement is still hot and I can feel the heat through my shoes. Those days, I marvel at all humanity has accomplished over the last few centuries. Even in its darkest hours, this world still amazes me at times.”
For an instant, her green eyes shimmered with an emotion he couldn’t quite place. But as quickly as it appeared, it faded. She slowly shook her head. “We definitely view the world in a different way. I’m not sure I could ever step outside and feel like that.”
“Why?”
“Because,” she exhaled a fractured breath, “I’ve seen what happens when people think no one’s looking. I’ve seen homeless people killed for no reason. Bums lit on fire by gang members because they think it’s funny.” She lowered her eyes. “I watched a little girl, who couldn’t have been more than six, get shot in her front yard during a drive-by at one o’clock in the morning. I used to ask myself why a kid would be playing outside at that time of night, especially in Brooklyn, but there’s no good answer for it. There’s never a good answer. I think that’s why after a while…I just stopped asking questions.” She sat quiet for a moment before she slipped her hand from his and slid off the table. “I’ll be right back.”
He watched as she walked away and turned down the hallway to her bedroom. Only once in his life had he felt the way she’d described, as if the world around him couldn’t possibly become any darker, filled with any more hate.
It was the night he’d stumbled off a blood soaked battlefield, clutching the mortal wound in his side, only to fall at the feet of the man he now called Father. And the first demand he’d made after pulling his bloody wrist from Kerestyan’s mouth, was that Kerestyan remove the armor he died in – and never put it on again.
Kerestyan pushed the memory aside as Logan walked back into the room carrying the dirty coat he’d found her in. Tears shined in her eyes as she reached into the pocket then set a worn syringe and a small bag of white powder on the table in front of him.
She stared down at the table, her green eyes more distant than ever. “I don’t know how after all this time you can still see the world the way you do. But, if there’s even a small chance that someday I could see it like you do, I don’t want to pass it up.”
His chest tightened as he gazed up at her beautiful face. “You’ve made your choice?”
She slowly nodded. “I don’t want to pretend no one’s looking anymore.” Without another word, no further explanation, she turned and walked back to her room.
Although his first thought was to follow, Kerestyan listened to his instincts when they whispered that Logan needed to be alone. He didn’t know why, but something deep behind her eyes told him going after her right now wouldn’t help her. And the last thing he wanted was to make the situation any more difficult for her than it was about to become.
Chapter 8
Kerestyan slipped inside Logan’s room then carefully closed the door behind him. It’d been seven hours since her haunting admissions in the kitchen. Seven long hours that, for him, had passed at the pace of seven hundred centuries.
After allowing his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light, he stared at the bed in the corner, conflicted by two very different but powerful emotions: desire and fear.
Even with her height, Logan seemed so tiny sprawled across the king size bed. And though it lent plenty of room for her to stretch out, in no way did she appear to be comfortable. Lying on her back, the silver satin sheets twisted around her legs while one arm rested on her abdomen, the other bent above her head. The heavy velvet comforter, kicked into a heap near her feet, had fared better than the six pillows however, only one of which remained on the bed.
The reason for the faint, salty scent of perspiration hanging in the air became clear as he moved closer. Having stripped off her jeans and t-shirt, which he assumed she’d done since both were strewn across the floor near the side of the bed, small beads of sweat dappled her flushed skin. Her black hair was matted to her forehead and appeared to be just as damp as her black tank top and matching shorts.
Had it been any other situation, he’d have taken more time to appreciate the scene before him, her long, slender legs, which as his eyes traced the length of them, seemed to never end. How her shorts, even though they appeared to be a few sizes too small, hugged her thin hips and offered an inviting view of her navel. The way the flimsy fabric of her top clung to her small breasts, outlining in perfect detail the hardened state of her nipples.
Kerestyan forced his eyes away from Logan’s body when the icy sting of the glass in his hand reminded him why he was standing there. She needed to be kept hydrated, needed the essential fluid to endure the hell she’d be subjected to in the coming hours.
What all that hell entailed, he wasn’t exactly sure. Vouclade, who’d found it necessary to appear once again a few hours after Logan had returned to her room, hadn’t been specific. He’d simply advised in his dry, scientific tone that she receive ample hydration during the torture to come, and for Kerestyan to keep his distance.
When Kerestyan had inquired as to why distance was necessary, Vouclade, in an exaggerated show of irritation, had adjusted his glasses and growled something about attachments and bonding during stressful experiences, then vanished.