his skin.
Her hair was shining, spread across the pillow. Her blue eyes gazed up at him with trust—and something more. He cupped her chin. 'So beautiful, Néomi.'
'Conrad,' she murmured. 'I... I need you.' She said the words the way she might tell him she loved him for the first time.
In answer, he rasped, 'I need you, too.' Realization struck him. His brows drew together, his breath shuddering out. Néomi had once asked him if he'd ever been in love, and he'd easily answered no. Now he knew why he hadn't.
Because he'd never met her.
It somehow seemed right that he'd never loved before her. That she simply was the emotion for him, the two equaling each other.
I'm in love with her... .
In the hours remaining till dawn, he took her again and again. But when the sun began to rise, he left her sleeping and dragged himself from their bed. She turned with a whisper, seeming to seek him. When she wrapped her slim arms around his pillow, nuzzling it, his heart took up too much room in his chest.
He longed to stay here with her. To feel her breaths on his skin as she slept warm and soft against him.
But Conrad knew what he wanted. Knew the obstacles between them. Though he was exhausted, he rose and dressed, mindlessly pulling on his boots for another hunt.
I'll have her. Or I'll die trying.
35
My time's running out, Néomi thought at the beginning of their third week together.
She didn't know how she knew this, but she sensed it strongly. Running out soon. She'd become convinced that she wouldn't last through even the first month with Conrad.
And she couldn't stop thinking that he would probably be there to see her meet her end. She'd known they would be in a relationship when it happened, but she hadn't truly comprehended that he would witness her death.
The death that promised to be violent.
The guilt was heavy. Why didn't I think of this before? Even knowing that, she couldn't force herself to part from Conrad to spare him. She was greedy for every possible moment with him, and she knew he was as well.
Last night, when she'd run the backs of her fingers over the scar on his torso, he'd said, 'I used to hate that scar. But no longer.' He'd met her gaze, and the words had seemed to spill from him. 'Néomi, it brought me to you. If I'd known what was in store for me, I'd have helped the Russian plunge his sword.'
After hearing that, she'd become convinced that what he felt for her was more than just what a vampire felt for his Bride. He was as in love with her as she was with him.
Yet even with that realization, she felt like their little world was falling apart in general. He was so wearied, but tried to hide it, just as she tried to hide her growing tension and dread.
As though he sensed her foreboding, he seemed determined to make every moment count... .
That night his gift of a dazzling scarlet gown along with the promise of a surprise destination were enough to distract Néomi's mind from her fears, at least for a short while.
When he'd traced her to Italy for dinner, she'd become genuinely excited.
Her vampire had reserved a private garden terrace at La Pergola, atop Monte Mario. 'Conrad, the view is spectacular!' Below them lay Rome at night, lit like a dream. 'Mon Dieu, is that St. Peter's dome? I've only ever seen it on a postcard. This is such an incredible surprise!'
'Oh, this?' When he gave a casual shrug, it drew her gaze to his dark dinner jacket, tailored to perfection over those broad shoulders. 'This isn't it. This is just nourishing my mortal until it's time for the real surprise.'
'Better than this? You must tell me!'
'Then it wouldn't be a surprise.' He gave her a wry grin. 'Also known as une surprise... .'
Once they were seated in plush chairs, the server brought by a trolley filled with chilled champagnes. As he poured, the man barely did a double take at Conrad's sunglasses, but Conrad still tensed. She wished his eyes didn't bother him so much.
When they were alone, he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. 'You must hate them. The blood red.'
She shook her head. 'I think they're the red of fire. And the color deepens and darkens when you look at me—which I love. Besides, with the sunglasses, you look like a movie star.'
'Or a drug addict.'
'I don't believe the two are mutually exclusive, mon grand,' she said, coaxing a grin from him. As she sipped her champagne, she asked, 'Wouldn't one have to reserve this spot months in advance?'
'One would.'
She quirked a brow. 'But you wouldn't?'
'You should know by now that regarding you, I stint on nothing.'
The meal bore this statement out. Dish after dish began to arrive, costly wines accompanying each course. As she savored some of the most delectable food and drink she'd ever tasted, she tried to get him to reveal the surprise. He sipped his whiskey, lazily forked some food around, and grinned smugly at her attempts to get him to crack... .
'You're so pleased with yourself, vampire.'
'It's too good of a surprise to reveal. How's your food?'
Some dishes were bold, some subtle; each caressed her palate. She smiled over her wineglass. 'C'est exquis comme tes lèvres.' Delicious like your lips. He shot upright when she rubbed her stocking-clad foot up his leg.
In a huskier voice, he said, 'You can use your considerable wiles'—his gaze dropped to the low neckline of the dress he'd given her—'all you like, but I'll never break.'
For dessert, the server brought to the table a miniature chest of drawers, handcrafted of silver. Inside each tiny drawer was a different kind of petit four.
'That's it,' she said, sampling all the delights, 'I'm never leaving,'
'Don't worry—we'll come back.'
She forced herself to smile through the pang she felt. 'At least once a week for the petit fours alone.'
After their dinner, Conrad said, 'Ready for your surprise?'
'Yes, I'm about to die!' she said, immediately wishing she could take back those words, but she masked her disquiet.
He covered her eyes, as he liked to, then traced her yet again. She sensed different weather, fresh smells. And she heard a new language—French.
With his other hand warm on her bared back, he led her toward a spot that sounded more crowded than where they'd arrived. Then he uncovered her eyes.
Her lips parted on a gasp. She was standing in front of L'Opéra Garnier, the lavish home of the Paris Ballet. Shivers skipped up and down her arms. Tonight's performance? Roméo et Juliette.
It was one of her favorite Shakespeare plays, and one she'd always dreamed of seeing choreographed. To experience it here? In Paris? Her eyes watering, she said, 'Conrad, this is the most wonderful thing anyone's ever done for me.'
And the most desirable man she'd ever known was offering his big hand to take her there. 'Come,' he murmured. 'Or we'll be late.'
Dazed, she let him guide her up the steps inside the palace. With the sounds of the orchestra tuning in the background, she was overwhelmed by the splendor, gazing from the artistry gracing the ceilings down to the elaborate marble designs beneath her heels.
When they took their seats—in the best box—she purred, 'Oh, vampire, you're gooood. It's almost as if... you stint on nothing?'
