Eternal

“I guess. Anyway, you seem pretty quiet yourself.”

“I suppose I am rather contemplative tonight” was all he said before falling silent.

And then my curiosity got the best of me. “You’re not thinking about . . . well, whoever those poems are about, are you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Well, not precisely.”

I sat up sharply, gazing down at him with a scowl. “Well, which is it? You either are, or you aren’t.”

“I am, but not in the way that you think.”

“Uh-huh. Go on.”

“It’s just . . . the relationships I had during my mortal life, they were so painful. I remember feeling raw, exposed, consumed. Angry, as you saw with those poems. But with you . . . I don’t know, I feel almost peaceful. Most of the time, at least,” he added, and I knew he was remembering that stupid misunderstanding with Tyler. “But even when I’m angry at you, I never really doubt us.”

“So, what’s your point?” I asked, my hackles rising. Because it kind of seemed like he was saying that he didn’t feel as passionately about me as he did them. They consumed him; they inspired poems—I didn’t.

He sat up, facing me. “See? This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d interpret it that way.”

“Well, how else am I supposed to interpret it?”

“What I was trying to say was that those relationships, they were toxic. Unhealthy. But with you . . .” He sighed, shaking his head. “What if it’s got something to do with the vampirism? You know, changing my personality. What if I cure myself—become mortal again—and suddenly I’m that asshole again?”

“That’s what you’re worried about? Seriously? You don’t even have the cure yet.”

He shrugged. “Being here, in this house . . . it’s making me remember my mortal life, that’s all. I’m not sure I want to risk being that guy again.”

“How ’bout we cross that bridge when we get to it, okay? I mean, look what happened the last time you tried the cure.” I shook my head, trying to forget. “We’ve got four years of college ahead of us, and—”

“Let’s not talk about this anymore, okay? You should get some sleep.” He stood, reaching for his T-shirt. “I think I’m going to go for a walk or something. Maybe I’ll feed. It’s been too long; I’m probably pushing it.”

“Wait. Don’t go. Not like this.” I scooted to the edge of the bed and reached for him. “C’mon, I didn’t mean —”

“I know you didn’t. I just need to clear my head.”

I hated the tone of his voice—cool, detached. I had no idea what was going through his mind, but I had to take care of this now, before it was too late.

“Aidan? Please, just look at me.” Kneeling on the edge of the bed now, I grabbed the waistband of his jeans and pulled him back to me. His eyes were bright in the moonlight—and damp, I realized. My mind scrambled frantically to process that information, to figure out what was wrong, what I’d said to upset him so. I came up totally blank.

“Don’t go,” I said. “You can feed later, okay? Once I fall asleep. Just . . . stay with me for now.” I tilted my face up toward his, guiding his lips toward mine with one hand.

I kissed him—softly at first and then more urgently.

He tore his lips from mine. “Don’t you see, Violet?” he asked, sounding frantic—desperate, even. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t decide—”

“You don’t have to decide anything now,” I interrupted, trying to placate him. “We’re here for a week, a break from reality. Please don’t ruin it,” I added, my voice quavering now.

He drew back as if I’d slapped him.

And all I could think of was how much I loved him. I felt—what was the word he’d used?— consumed by it. In an instant, I let down the wall around my thoughts.

Read my mind, I urged telepathically.

For a split second, he looked confused. And then something shifted in his features—comprehension lit his eyes as all my feelings for him poured out of my mind like a sheer, overwhelming tidal wave.

“God, Violet,” he said with a strangled cry, and then gathered me tightly in his arms.

Somehow, we were back on the bed, our bodies tangled together. His lips were everywhere—my mouth, my chin, my throat. I struggled to pull his shirt over his head; he did the same with my tank top. Once they’d both been tossed carelessly to the floor, his lips found mine, nothing but bare skin between our pounding hearts now.

It all happened so quickly—just a matter of seconds, really. There was no time to think, to plan, to do anything but gasp in recognition when he drew away and gazed down at me in an eerily familiar pose—incisors elongated, his eyes rimmed in red and filled with desire, with bloodlust.

I must have cried out when his head dipped down toward my neck. I felt his teeth scrape against my skin as I tried desperately to roll out from beneath him.

There was a sudden rush of air as he slammed himself against the door, a look of pure horror on his face as I scrambled back against the headboard, cowering with the covers gathered over my half-naked body.

“Tell me now—did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice strangely calm.

I reached a hand up to my neck. It was fine—not even a scratch. “No,” I said. “It’s okay. Why don’t you . . . you know, go take your walk or something.”

He just stood there silently, the muscles in his jaw working feverishly as he struggled for control.

“I’m fine. Go on,” I urged. “We can talk in the morning. You’ll be okay after you feed.”

“No. That was too close.” He shook his head. “I can’t do this anymore, Violet. I tried . . . I really did.”

“What are you saying?” I asked, my voice trembling.

His gaze met mine, and all the air left my lungs with a whoosh. Pain, guilt, revulsion, self-loathing—they all battled for dominance there in his features.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

And then, just like that, he was gone.

* * *

Two full days passed before Aidan’s return. My friends tried their best to entertain me, but I mostly kept to myself, not wanting to ruin their vacation. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back,” I told them with forced cheerfulness, but I wasn’t sure I believed it myself.

I’d moved my things to the master suite, a shock of familiarity startling me the moment I’d stepped inside the room that had been his mother’s.

I recognized the plush carpeting beneath my feet—robin’s-egg blue with a dark brown pattern of scripty curlicues and little birds. I recognized the view outside the window too—it was green, as far as the eye could see. Rolling hills, a willow tree.

I knew this room. I’d seen it before, in a vision.

I tried to convince myself that if I stayed right there, he’d have to come back. After all, I’d seen it. Us, together. There. Apparently, we had unfinished business.

More than anything, I wished that Matthew had been there to help me through it all. But he wasn’t, and whenever I tried to call his cell, I got his voice mail—each and every time.

Apparently they’d both abandoned me.

Still, I was surprised when I woke up on that third lonely morning and found Aidan there, sitting in a chair by the window, his blond hair turned gold by the sun.

“You’re back,” I said, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. “God, what time is it?”

“It’s nearly noon,” he said, his expression guarded, entirely unreadable.

My stomach growled noisily. “I guess I missed breakfast. Did you happen to notice if they’ve gotten lunch yet?”

He shook his head. “I’ve sent them all away for lunch, to a restaurant in the village. They won’t be back for a couple of hours.”

That was weird. “Okay,” I said with a frown. “Are you planning on telling me where you’ve been? I was worried out of my mind.”