lore,” Avery replied. “Legends say the Blood Knights were created by three magicians who were also the earliest form of what we know of today as vampires. If that’s true, it would explain a lot about you.”
“Rumor is it? What would a bunch of old untruths say about me?”
Avery wiped a finger across her mouth to remind him she had seen the fangs. He watched her carefully with the eyes of a hawk.
“Does the term fantasy also explain you?” he asked.
“I’m sure the parameters of fantasy lore cover us both.”
“You had a Maker?”
“Oh, yes. An extremely powerful one.”
“So why are you in pain?” he asked.
The several feet of distance separating them had not been enough. Somehow he had picked up on the wicked pain that underlined every damn day of her existence and was assailing her now. Seeing this man added to her discomfort, the way seeing him always had. Her heart was beating fast. Speaking was difficult.
“Possibly I can help,” he suggested. “I’ve learned a thing or two about pain and healing.”
“You can help by leaving me alone to do what I came here to do.”
“Other than the tattoos, you mean?”
“Yes,” Avery warily admitted. “Other than that.”
She dropped the hand that again had automatically returned to her mouth to trace the lingering impression of their kiss, because this Knight missed little and was analyzing every move she made. She had to be more careful. That was a fact.
She didn’t press home the fact that he had fangs. Surely he would have wondered about that.
“We’re to pretend nothing happened?” he asked, confirming her fears about that kiss.
“Nothing did,” Avery said.
He walked into the light of a moon half covered by dark clouds. Shadows played on his features in an artistic tableau of light and dark. His vivid blue eyes were like searchlights.
Without having ever feared anyone, Avery stepped back. The pressure of being near this immortal was greater than she would have imagined. After circling these Knights for centuries, she had to stumble on this particular one.
Wanting to turn her anger into another kind of emotion wasn’t a good sign. Desiring what was forbidden between the two of them was the biggest surprise of all. She could see the outcome of this scenario if they remained in each other’s presence. She could taste it.
Avery liked to think she was better than this, stronger than the wayward urges pulsing through her that told her to walk straight toward this seductive male.
“I am no threat to you or anyone else,” she said. “I will promise you that.”
“You’re already a threat to me.” His tone was softer now, and much too convincing.
“Forget about me. Move on.”
“Yes,” he said. “That’s what I will have to do.”
Relief filled Avery, healing the cracks in her weakening resolve. Remorse was there, too, just as it had been from the start, after she had first set foot on the Earth’s hard surface.
Regret topped both of those emotions, coming at her in seismic jolts and due to the possibility of this guy actually fulfilling her wishes by letting her go when maybe he could have helped her, if she’d let him. If she trusted herself to let him. He might have understood what had been done to her, and want to correct old errors.
“More pain,” he observed with a keen, appraising gaze. “I can feel it overtaking you.”
“It’s nothing I can’t bear.”
He nodded. “Do I play a part in that pain?”
“Do you believe you’re so important?”
His head tilted to one side, as if in viewing her from a different angle he might discover something pertinent that would help him to read her. Damn if she’d let him.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll honor your request and be on my way. It’s a shame, though, when we were getting along so well.”
Wait, Avery almost cried out, biting her tongue to keep from repeating that ugly earlier show of vulnerability that had resulted in a kiss. For her, vulnerability was rare and dangerous.
When he turned from her, she let him. When he looked back at her over a broad shoulder she had seen many times in secret, from afar, Avery managed to keep her expression smooth. The look she gave him was the same thing as a lie, and also a cover-up. Things had changed. Meeting this Knight face-to-face had softened her stance on the future. Seeing him in person had affected them both.
There was no going back.
Wait, she wanted to say again, because he wasn’t the monster she had struggled to believe he was, while knowing better all along. Though he was intelligent and experienced, the man once known as Perceval knew very little about his immortal beginnings. He was continuing to honor Britain’s famous old king’s credo of using might to fight for what was right. His side was the epitome of doing good. How could she have hated any of that enough to have stayed away?
Damn you...
The desire to be near you threatens to outweigh all the rest.
She didn’t utter the curses that stuck in her throat. Not even the worst ones. Weren’t the two of them in the same boat, living on and on with no end in sight? Did this man wish his fate had been otherwise, just as she did?
We do have things in common.
Maybe some regrets also haunt you.
Perhaps pain is also your demon?
He had retreated to the edge of the roof and stopped there. “Name’s Rhys nowadays. Rhys de Troyes. If you need me, call.”
“I won’t need you,” she said.
He nodded. “One thing I’ve found in this crazy, overextended existence is that we never really know how to ask for what we need, even when we do need something. That’s the real curse we suffer from.”
In a shaft of moonlight, the flash of his golden-highlighted hair was the last Avery saw of the blazing-hot immortal she had wanted so badly to despise, but couldn’t. After all the arguing, he had complied with her demands and was going away...like the goddamn gentleman he had probably been before the word Blood had been tacked onto his knightly status.
Moonlight, usually Rhys’s ally in his war against the monsters, seemed impossibly dull when she wasn’t standing in it. The overhead orb’s silvery shine didn’t matter to him at the moment. Neither did the possible return of the bloodsuckers.
Tonight, for the first time in a long while, he had experienced the kindling of a little thing called hope. And the reason at the core of this new emotion had sent him away. She had waved him off as inconsequential, perhaps too wrapped up in a mystery of her own to let a stranger share in that mystery.
He hadn’t gotten one straight answer from her, and he had so many questions.
Why the tattoo?
Why wings?
Chances were good that she wouldn’t help him out of this quandary, not if they met again, but when they did. Because he had every intention of seeing her again. In fact, he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight completely, in case she used some of that power to disappear.
“Why the kiss, and why would you allow it? Distraction? Moment of weakness? Attraction? Are you as interested in me, as I am in you?”