He took three ragged breaths. He shook his head, convulsively. But she could feel the Companion in his veins rise a little and increase the pace of his vibrations. Yes, she thought, take over for him. You know what to do.

He fastened his blistered lips on her wrist with a growl. She smiled and closed her eyes.

Kate watched Gian sleep, fascinated. It was almost imperceptible, but his burns were healing. She had saved him pain.

She loved this man, even if he could not love her in return. She treasured his contradictions: selflessness all wrapped up in arrogance, his courage and his cowardice. And they were so alike; both allowing their past to circ.u.mscribe their future...

That did not mean there was any escaping who they were. There were no choices.

The sun sank below the horizon. And the pain was gone. Gian opened his eyes, and his gaze met Kate's. Her blue eyes were clear and true. She had been watching him sleep. And the feeling that he belonged with her was so strong it made his stomach clench.

"Thank you," he said. It was so inadequate. What other woman would have gouged her own wrist and let him suck her blood just to spare him pain?

She smiled. And the smile was tender. "You're welcome."

He pushed himself up, trying to ignore that smile. "We'll stay here until you are fully recovered. Then the villagers can direct us to the next oasis."

A look of tristesse pa.s.sed over her face and was quickly suppressed. She smiled again, but this time it was rueful. "As you will."

The horse had survived against all odds. A few days of hay and water, and he was, if not as good as new, as good as she and Gian were. Gian had paid the villagers for their kindness with gold coins he produced from the seams of his burnoose where they had apparently been sewn.

Now the rock-strewn plateau again stretched out before them under a waning moon. That seemed fitting. The whole world seemed like it was waning to Kate. They walked. Gian led the horse. The villagers had sworn they could reach the next water hole before the dawn, and sure enough, in the distance huts rose in rectangular contrast to the rocks and the flat desert, the soft- looking fronds of date palms caressing their angles.Kate existed in some kind of dream state. Her thoughts, hovering around her, napped like vultures. Living in a village away from everyone suddenly seemed the last thing she wanted to do. She would miss the new cities, the excitement of duping a whole roomful of marks. No, even that was tame compared to saving the world-at the very least the whole of France. And she would miss Gian Urbano. How could she have ever guessed she would be here, with him, at the spine of the world?

The warring halves of her had stopped their debate, exhausted. She accepted that the world was not as she had always thought it. It held more things unseen than she had ever imagined. And she, who thought she was not special, was perhaps unique among humans. Were all the other things she had believed equally wrong?

The thought seemed to wind around her spine. She believed she controlled her own destiny, that she was invulnerable to the scorn of those around her, that people were inherently selfish, doing wrong at every turn either from malice or ignorance. But those things were wholly wrong. Gian did not do things from malice or ignorance. He was not selfish at all. And as for her? Her past controlled her. Her fear of being abandoned directed her every reaction. And the feeling that those around her held her in contempt, whether because of her background, or her scar, quite ruled her life. She found that contemptible.

She had never believed in love either. But that did not prevent her from loving Gian. It had happened against her will.

She was glad. He couldn't love her in return, of course. But... but her life was richer for having loved him. She had to tell him.

She had to thank him before they parted. At least that.

"Gian." The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it.

He turned. Concern was written on his features. "Kate?"

What was she thinking? How could she expose herself to ridicule like that? He'd leave if she said it. But it was Gian. And she trusted Gian. He knew everything about her. Whatever he felt for her or didn't feel, he didn't despise or ridicule her. And he would leave anyway. So it didn't matter. He couldn't go without knowing. "I... I must thank you."

"It was nothing." His expression flattened itself, unreadable.

"I don't mean for carrying me across the desert. Perhaps I should mean that, but I don't."

He looked... wary. He should. She was about to create another barrier between them. Women had been prostrating themselves before him for centuries. He surely wouldn't want to hear protestations of love from a charlatan tramp with a scarred face. She should just motion him forward. How could she say anything anyway with the lump in her throat?

But this was something she had to do. She had to share with the person she knew best in the world her realization that what she believed about life before was wrong. "I... I hadn't felt... anything for... for a man, before I met you." She shook her head, disgusted with herself. Her resolve seeped away. "Women must say that to you all the time. How... ba.n.a.l of me. I shouldn't have..." She trailed off, unable to continue.

He had frozen. "Women wouldn't say that if they knew what I was."

What? She wagered women didn't care that he had had a thousand other women. Oh, he meant the vampire part. Probably true.

She shrugged. "n.o.body is perfect."

He examined her as though his life depended on it. Which it didn't. Because he lived forever. They were totally unlike, different species. He cleared his throat. "You are the only one who has ever known what I was, not only that I am vampire, but... but all of me. Do you... ?"

She frowned. Different species. There was no getting around that. "Do I what?"

"Do you think... you might... might want to spend some time with me even so?" She realized she had been staring him straight in the face, just like she wasn't scarred. But she was. She looked down. "You don't want someone like me."

"I do." He swallowed. "I do. I love you, Kate." He was standing there, wavering in the middle of the wide, rocky plane with a waning moon arcing up from behind the stony peaks of the Middle Atlas range behind him. She was so shocked she could say nothing. He loved her?

When she said nothing, his words began to tumble out. "I know you could never love someone you must consider a monster. I understand that completely. And it would be too much to ask to be more than... than an acquaintance." His gaze bounced from her, to the sand, the stars. "If you would but let me see that you are happy, perhaps allow me to visit you on occasion, I promise never to opportune you for more."

He loved her? She couldn't seem to make out the meaning of the words. He couldn't love her. Not with her scar. Her fingers crept to her cheek.

He covered the distance between them in two strides. "Don't even think of that." He took her in his arms. As she was pressed against the muscles in his chest, the exotic fragrance of cinnamon and something else coursed through her. "I haven't even noticed it since the first days. I want you. Not for forever, I understand that. But... if you think you could bear... my companionship...

for even a few years, I would be so grateful."

This was so far from the arrogant man she had come to know that she wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. He loved her. The thump of his heart against her scarred cheek was strong and sure. And he had said that first day in the carriage that he never told women he loved them when he didn't. He prided himself on that. So, whatever emotion was really coursing through him, he at least believed it was love. That thought frightened her immensely. Because it meant she had to choose.

Her mind raced. He was saying he would leave her even now. "... a few years." But of course. She believed that, expected that.

Hadn't she come back to Firenze to wait for him, hoping to get a month with him? No more... She could expect no more...

From out of nowhere an image of Ian Rufford and his wife Beth rose in her mind, the loving looks they saved for each other, the calm way they accepted their condition.

She blinked.

He held her away from his body, his brows creased in worry. He was expecting an answer from her. He was expecting rejection.

She looked into his clear, green eyes, and rebellion rose in her heart, anger even, at him for his expectations, at herself for hers.

d.a.m.n it all to b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. They were both stupid enough to let their past dictate their future. They would doom themselves to unhappiness just because they couldn't get around their history. She'd never forgive her parents for abandoning her. But if she never opened herself up to the possibility of abandonment, she'd deny herself any hope of being close to another human being.

And humans needed that. She needed that in order to be whole. She had been half a person all her life. G.o.d, did she have the courage for this? Did he? But she couldn't control him. She could only decide what she would do. She'd always prided herself on her courage. Then get it out and use it for something worthwhile, for once.

She took a breath. He had her by her upper arms. The pain in his expression hurt her. She was about to give him more pain, along with an extra measure for herself, probably. They couldn't stay together. She was inviting everything she feared most.

But risking the pain of abandonment was the lesser of two evils.

She swallowed. "I love you. I never thought I could love anybody, but I love you."

His eyes widened. He searched her face even more intensely.

"It's hard for me to think you want me in spite of the scar." He started to protest, but she put a finger to his lips. "It's hard not to let my fear you'll leave me keep me from running away. But I have to try. You see, I don't want an acquaintance. I want a lover.

I want forever." She smiled. She was fairly sure it was only a little lopsided. "I've always been greedy. Or maybe I haven't been greedy enough. It doesn't matter. I want forever, like the Ruffords have. If you can't give me that then let us part when we reach Algiers."

He stared at her, shock making his heart thump in his chest. She loved him. So much she wanted... Did she know what she was asking for? "You don't know what it's like."

"But I do." She said it calmly. "I know it all, remember?"

"Even I don't know all of it. I am what they call a firebrand, and I don't understand that."

"Then we both have parts we don't understand. I don't know why I have visions, or what to do about them." She took a breath, then had the temerity to chuckle. "After drinking human blood and compulsion, starting fires seems a little paltry."

It was the things one couldn't control that frightened one. They had that in common. "You can't make light of becoming vampire, Kate. It's irrevocable."

"I don't make light of it," she said, growing serious. "I want it. And don't you dare tell me it isn't allowed."

"The Elders-"

"I know. And the Rules." The way she said it dismissed them as unimportant. "It's your duty to make us both unhappy by refusing to make me vampire. Haven't you done enough duty in your life? You fought those dreadful wars. You took the stones back where they belonged. A little rebellion would do you a world of good."

If my mother had made my father vampire, their love would have lasted for eternity. He knew that. His mother must know it too. She obeyed the Rules at the cost of an eternity of regret. Not to mention the fact that his father aged and died. How did she live with that? All her effort to do good in the world was really a compensation for the fact that, when her situation called for courage, she had retired from the field. All the women in his life had compared badly in his mind with his mother. Her vibrancy, her intelligence made them all pale in comparison. But Kate showed up his mother's cowardice for what it was. He didn't love his mother less. Kate had made her comprehensible. But his mother couldn't hold a candle to Kate.

And Kate wanted him. No matter that he was vampire. Enough to become vampire herself. He didn't deserve that. He should protect her from herself. He should refuse.

As he had been refusing to become involved with women all his life? His mother's pain was so frightening Gian had refused to allow the possibility of pain in his own life. Oh, he was more of a coward than his mother was. She at least had taken the plunge once.

Kate was waiting. Giving him time. Now it was up to him to give them both time. If only he could be sure what he was doing wouldn't hurt her. His eyes roved over her, looking for answers. She still had that silly silver-beaded reticule hanging from her wrist. He gave a nervous laugh. "Maybe you could rea.s.sure us both by reading our future in the cards."

She looked down, surprised, then shook her head. "They never told the future." She took the reticule from her pocket and opened it. She removed the tarot deck encrusted with gilt stars and tossed it to the hard-packed sand of the plateau. "I thought the cards were part of me. They're not."

"But you know the future," he said, trying not to sound desperate.

She smiled ruefully. "I never see my own." She grew thoughtful. "And I've never seen anything of yours beyond the time when Elyta tortured you."They looked at each other.

He was the one to say it. "Maybe... maybe that's because our future is together."

She took a breath. "Or maybe not."

So. No easy answers. No guarantees. One had to just take the plunge, not knowing.

"Come on," he said, grabbing Kate's wrist in one hand, and the reins of the horse in the other. "We need shelter."

Chapter Twenty-two.

Kate stood, trembling, inside the thick-walled, single-room structure that was the best the little cl.u.s.ter of houses around the oasis had to offer. It belonged to a family who had gladly vacated to a tent when they saw the color of Gian's gold. The floor was packed sand, the only furniture a wide bed and a table with two chairs. Gian was seeing to the horse. Kate was busy sweeping the corners of her soul to gather up any dusty speck of courage she could muster.

She was going to let him make her vampire. When he could abandon her at a moment's notice, and leave her standing on the sh.o.r.es of eternity. When he would have to tire of her, scarred as she was. When changing meant she must drink human blood, and lose the sun forever. When she would become something children had nightmares about and their parents feared.

Yes. All of that. Because she saw that there was a giant hole in the fabric of her soul. And the only way she could knit up that awful rent was to do the thing she feared most. Grab for the bra.s.s ring. Take a chance on abandonment.

The man she loved just happened to be a vampire. Well, they were alike in lots of other ways; stubborn, arrogant.

sometimes angry, controlled by their pasts, determined not to be. Now they'd be alike in this one too.

He ducked in under the flap of leather that stood in for a door in the little hut. "They won't disturb us, except to leave food outside the door." He was carrying a tray filled with the ubiquitous dates, a bowl of some kind of stew, and two crude cups full of wine. It all smelled lovely. He set it down on the pallet supported by a wooden frame and rope netting which formed the bed.

"Eat," he whispered. "You will need your strength."

That sounded ominous. He went around the room pulling closed the shutters, sliding the fabric or leather over the windows to keep out the rising sun.

She ate, hardly tasting the lamb stew. He did not join her, but watched from a corner, his arms folded and a closed expression on his face. Was he having second thoughts? When she pushed away the bowl, he came and knelt in front of her.

"This will not be pleasant," he said. "After you are infected, you will get sick. Then you must have more of my blood to give you immunity or you will die. There is a possibility you could die anyway, if... if the parasite weakens you more than I can counteract with my blood." Courage drained from his expression. He turned away. "I can't risk it."

"You can't not risk it, Gian Vincenzo Urbano. I want this." She was surprised at the ferocity in her own voice. "If you betray me with cowardice I will never forgive you."

He sucked in a breath then let it out and nodded. "I'll drain the last drop in my veins to give you strength. Know that." He gathered himself. "In three days, if this works, you will recover, and you will be vampire. The instant my blood touches yours there is no going back."

Previous TopShe swallowed. Why was nothing ever easy? "I understand."

He pulled her to him. "G.o.d forgive me. I'm selfish. I love you so much I can't imagine being without you. Ever."

She pulled him even closer. "'And I love you so much I demand it of you."

He took a breath. "I'll try to make this as painless as possible."

"Then love me as you do it."

He blinked in surprise, and then his eyes ignited. She opened her thighs. He knelt between them and kissed her lips. He was tender, though she felt the latent power in each straining muscle in his body. She drew his head closer and deepened their kiss.

His amis slid around her and he held her close. The need for him was a pain between her legs. She felt him swell against her most private parts and they ached even more.

"G.o.d, Kate," he swore softly. "I never thought you'd love me."

"Every woman who has ever seen you has loved you," she said into his mouth. He was pulling at his burnoose, even as he kissed her.

"They didn't love me. They loved the body." Then he was naked and pulling at her loose shirt and the flowing pants.

She pressed her naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest. Her nipples peaked. His four-day growth of beard was p.r.i.c.kly against her lips.

He was rock hard now. How she wanted him inside her! So she took his shaft in her hand and guided it to the entrance of her womb. He groaned, but it wasn't in protest. He lifted her b.u.t.tocks, as easily as though she weighed nothing, and she opened to him farther so he could thrust inside her.

She threw back her head as he penetrated her. But she could not be parted from his lips for long. They collided again and again as he held her and thrust into her. She scoured his mouth with her tongue as though she was searching for something she'd never known before. How would he do it? Would he wait until the sleepy afterglow of pa.s.sion? She opened her eyes, and saw his open too. They were red. She pulled back and watched in fascination as his canines lengthened. He bit his own lip. Blood welled, viscous and bright red in the dim hut. She knew now how he would do it. She threw back her head, arching her neck to invite him.

And he accepted. His kiss on her throat turned sharp, and she felt the twin stabbing pains even as he thrust into her again. This time he took only one long sucking pull on her throbbing artery and withdrew. The blood on his lips was now both hers and his own, mingled, for all time.