"You know why." She tilted her head back, baring her throat to his gaze. "Do it, Jason, do it now."

"No!" He turned away from her, his hands knotted into fists. He recoiled as if in pain when he felt her hand caress his back.

"I love you, Jason. If you can't, or won't, try to live in my world, then I'll live in yours."

"No. No. No!" He whirled around, his eyes blazing. "How can you even consider it?"

"Because I want to be with you!" She placed her hands on his chest and gazed up at him, her eyes filled with love. "I love you. I don't want to live without you."

He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and then he took her hands in his.

"Look at me, Leanne," he said quietly. "Take a good look. Tell me what you see."

"I see the man I love, the man I've waited for my whole life."

"No. I'm not a man, and I can't pretend to be one any longer, not even for you." He saw the protest rise in her eyes, and he silenced her with a look. "Face it, beloved. I'm a ghoul, a monster."

"No."

He lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed her palms, first one, then the other. "Go home, Leanne."

"I won't leave you, Jason. Nothing you can say will make me change my mind."

It was tempting, so tempting. He closed his eyes as he contemplated the ecstasy of bestowing the Dark Gift on her, of knowing that, as a creature of the night, she would be his forever. Never again would he be alone, his existence empty. She would bring him the sunlight he had not seen in three hundred years. He would know love and laughter, the taste of her kisses, the sound of her voice. They could travel the earth together. He could show her the wonders of the ancient world, take her to London, to Paris, to Rome. And perhaps, if he loved her enough, she'd never miss the sunlight, never regret forfeiting the opportunity to bear children...

He held the image close, savoring it, even though he knew he would not do it.

Every day of his miserable existence, he had cursed Marguerite for what she'd done, for the mortal life she had stolen from him. He would not selfishly bequeath the same horrible fate to the woman he loved.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, drinking in the sight of her beloved face, knowing that, after this night, he would never see her again.

"I love you, Jason." She spoke the words with the simple faith of a child, as if they could make everything all right...

"And I love you," he replied fervently.

"And you'll stay with me forever?"

Tenderly, he brushed his knuckles over her cheek. "Only death will part us, beloved."

At his words Leanne shivered violently, as if someone had filled her veins with ice water. She knew then what he meant to do, knew it as surely as she knew the sun would rise in the morning.

"No!"

"Yesterday, you asked me for one last night. Now I ask the same of you."

"Jason, you can't mean to do it."

"You cannot stop me."

"I will not live without you!" She pummeled his chest with her fists. "Do you hear me, Jason Blackthorne, I will not live without you! If you kill yourself, you'll be killing me, too."

She looked up at him, her eyes awash with pain, though only a single tear trickled down her cheek.

He watched it for a moment, and then, compelled by an urge he could neither understand nor deny, he bent down and licked the tiny drop of moisture from her cheek.

For a moment he gazed into her eyes, and then he reeled back, his whole body on fire.

"Jason, what is it?"

He couldn't answer; he could only stare at her, the salty taste of that single tear incinerating his tongue, burning through every fiber of his being like a shaft of liquid sunlight.

He heard her voice sobbing his name as from a great distance, but he lacked the power to answer. He dropped to his hands and knees, his head hanging, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Go." He forced the word between clenched teeth.

"No, I won't leave you." She knelt beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder, only to jerk it away when the heat radiating from his flesh burned her palm. "What is it? What's happening?"

"Go!" With an effort he raised his head and met her gaze. "I'm dying."

She shook her head, her eyes filled with denial. "That's impossible."

"It's true." He groaned low in his throat as his body convulsed with agony. His blood was on fire; his skin seemed to be shrinking, melting. "Leave me." He took a deep shuddering breath. "Please, Leanne, if you love me, go from here."

She was sobbing now, her tears falling to the floor, splashing like liquid fire over his hands.

"Please, leave me," he implored her. "I don't want you to see..."

Using the chair for support, she stood up. If he wanted her to go, she would go, but only as far as the other room.

"I love you," she whispered brokenly. "I'll always love you."

But he was past hearing.

Chapter Eleven.

Numb, she stared down at him, unable to believe he was dead. A distant part of her mind, a morbid part she hadn't even known existed, wondered why his body hadn't aged and dissolved into dust.

And then reality struck home. Jason was dead.

Slowly, she dropped to her knees beside him and cradled his head in her lap, the pain in her heart too deep for tears.

Gently, she smoothed the long dark hair from his brow. His skin felt warm and alive. Odd, she thought, when it had always felt cool before.

The hours pa.s.sed unnoticed as she relived every moment she had spent with Jason, remembering how she had found herself looking for him outside the theater long before he introduced himself, remembering the instant attraction between them, the way she had known, that very first night, she could trust him.

A faint smile touched her lips as she caressed his cheek. She would have liked to walk along a sunlit beach with Jason at her side, watched the sun rise over the ocean, borne his children, grown old beside him.

She would have liked to make love to him one more time.

With a sigh she kissed him one last time, and then, very gently, she lowered his head to the floor and stood up.

Feeling empty and alone, she walked out of the house.

She hesitated on the veranda, her gaze caught by the fiery splendor of the sun as it climbed over the tops of the hills.

"I love you, Jason Blackthorne," she murmured, her fingertips absently stroking the heart-shaped locket he had given her. "I love you, and I'll never forget you." Tears welled in her eyes. "Never."

"Never is a long time."

Leanne whirled around, her hand flying to her throat. "Jason! You're alive!"

He held out his hands and flexed his fingers, looking at them as if he'd never seen them before. "So it would seem."

"But... but how?"

"I don't know." A wry grin tugged at his lips. "The love of a good woman, perhaps?" he mused, his finger catching a tear that hovered at the corner of her eye, "or perhaps it was the magic of a single tear shed for a monster who yearned to be a man."

They gazed at each other for a long moment, and then Leanne threw herself into his arms and hugged him tight.

"You're alive." She ran her fingertips over his face, then spread one hand over his chest, above his heart. "Alive," she murmured again. "Thank G.o.d."

He looked deep into her eyes, and then he smiled, a beautiful smile that went straight to her heart.

Lowering his head, he teased her lips with the tip of his tongue, and then he kissed her as gently as ever a man had kissed a woman, and it seemed he could taste the sunrise on her lips.

"Leanne," he murmured. "Do you think you could love this mortal man as you once loved the monster?"

"Oh, yes," she exclaimed softly, and the glow in her eyes was warmer and brighter than the sun he had thought never to see again.

His smile grew wider. "And do you think you could make love to me now, here, in the light of day?"

Happiness bubbled up inside of her. "I think so," she replied in a voice trembling with love and joy and excitement.

"And will you spend the rest of your life with me? Bear my children? Grow old at my side?"

"Yes," she promised fervently. "Oh, yes."

Jason sighed as he wrapped his arm around Leanne's shoulders and watched the sun climb in the sky, proclaiming the birth of a new day.

It was a day of miracles, he thought, and Leanne's love was the greatest miracle of all.

She had been the sun in his sky since the first night he had seen her emerge from the theater.

Now, standing beside her, with the sunlight on his face and the warmth of her love shining in the depths of her eyes, he knew he would never dwell in darkness again.

Epilogue.

Five years later Jason leaned forward as his daughter made her entrance on stage. Facing the audience, Kristi Lynn began to sing, her voice pure and clear.

His daughter. Another miracle that Leanne had wrought in his life. And soon they would have a second child. And after that, a dozen more, if G.o.d and his wife were willing.

"She's wonderful, isn't she?" Leanne whispered.

"Indeed," he said. "She has her mother's talent."

Leanne grinned at him. "And her father's charm."

Jason took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. The last five years had been

the happiest he had ever known. He had stood beside Leanne and watched the sun rise over the Grand Canyon, sat beside her on a sandy white beach in Hawaii and watched the waves lap at the sh.o.r.e. He grinned at the memory. He had sat there so long he'd gotten one h.e.l.l of a sunburn. But even that had felt good.

He had watched Leanne's body swell with new life, stood at her side the morning Kristi Lynn had been born, felt his heart swell with awe when the doctor had placed his daughter in his arms. He had been there when she took her first steps, said her first word; ran alongside her the day she had learned to ride a bike.

He had turned to writing again, surprised and pleased when he sold his first book, a novel about a vampire. He had written three others since then, each of which had received rave reviews. His favorite hung on the wall behind his desk. "Jason Blackthorne's vampires are so real, so vivid, one would think he drew on personal experience."

He applauded loudly when Kristi Lynn finished her song.

Later that night, standing beside his daughter's bed while Leanne tucked her in, he thanked a generous, forgiving G.o.d for granting him a second chance at life.

DARK DREAM.

Christine Feehan

Dark Dream