A slight flush came to her lips. “I bet they love you.”
“I tip well.”
“That’s not why they love you.”
“Tenzin…”
She said nothing, but the raised eyebrow said enough.
“I don’t have time for this.”
She laughed. “Yes, you do. You have time, Ben. Plenty of it now.”
“Are you trying to piss me off?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Hmm.”
“Are you actually thinking about what you’re going to say?”
“I am attempting in this new life to be more introspective.” She pursed her lips. “So far the results have been mixed.”
“What new life?”
She turned her eyes to him, and Ben felt a sudden sense of vertigo. Her eyes were ancient. Too often it was easy to write her off as a mercurial, easily distracted magpie.
She wasn’t.
Tenzin was an immortal over five thousand years old. She’d been born in a time before history was written. She’d seen the land reshape itself and civilizations rise and fall.
He was a child compared to her. Everyone was.
Tenzin walked over, nudged him to the side, and closed the door.
Ben was frozen, still leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Do you know how many nights it has been since you were changed?”
“About two—”
“Eight hundred twenty-six.” She looked up. “I counted.”
“Why?”
“Because we both lost important things that night. You lost your human life, and I lost the one human who truly saw me and wasn’t afraid.”
His chest felt tight. “Nima?”
“Nima loved me, but she always feared me.”
The urge to touch her was impossible to ignore. He reached out and ran a finger under her bottom lip.
Tenzin closed her eyes and let her mouth fall open. Her fangs were long and curving. They never retreated; she couldn’t hide like Ben could.
“What else did you lose?” he asked quietly.
“Peace.”
In that, at least, they were the same.
“I can’t give that to you,” Ben said. I’m still looking for my own.
“I know.” Tenzin opened her eyes. “It’s not your job.”
I miss you.
You’re the other half of me.
You broke my heart, and I don’t know how to forgive you.
Ben swallowed the words he wanted to say. “Tell me about this new life.”
“Are you sure? This really isn’t business.”
“Just tell me.”
Tenzin took a few steps back and hopped on the bed. “Chloe calls them my New Year’s resolutions.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “Is this some kind of self-improvement thing?”
She cocked her head. “Not yet. Right now I’m just trying to find the dead parts.”
A low, silent part of his heart screamed. “Dead parts?”
She didn’t say anything.
“This is what you were talking about before, isn’t it? The parts of yourself you had to cut off to survive.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
She smiled a little. “Why would I do that?”
“You were my best friend for ten years, Tenzin.”
“Exactly. Why would I do that to my best friend?”
“Talking—”
“Saying something aloud doesn’t make it more or less horrible. I know that talking is helpful to some people, but it’s really not useful for me.” She leaned back. “It’s nothing personal. If I felt like it was useful, I would tell you.”
“Have you ever told anyone?”
She was clearly struggling with how much to tell him. Ben dragged a chair over and sat. He didn’t say anything; he just waited.
“Beatrice knows the basics. I told Nima some things before she died.”
“Why?”
“She was dying and she asked me to tell her. So I told her a story. It was for her, not for me.”
Ben had a feeling that Nima had seen far more than Tenzin gave her credit for. “So what are your New Year’s resolutions?” How do you find the dead parts, Tiny?
“To look inward more.” She looked at a point over his shoulder. “To think about how situations make me feel and not just react to them.”
“Let’s just consider the Nintendo carnage a slip and not a complete fall off the wagon.”
She snarled. “Mobile gaming options for vampires are limited and highly imperfect.”
“You’re preaching to the choir now.”
“When did you join a choir?”
Ben shook his head. “Never mind. Tell me more about the resolutions.”
“Nima left her journals with me, and that is one thing she mentioned, that I needed to not react to things instinctively.”
Ben let out a long breath. “That’s got to irritate you.”
“So much.” She narrowed her eyes. “So very much.”
Ben smiled. “It’s good though. That’s a good one. Giovanni was always really good at reinforcing that. Live deliberately and not by instinct.”
Which was the only reason he was all the way across the room and not on the bed, tearing Tenzin’s clothes off. Being with Tenzin created a gloriously messy set of emotions. He was relieved. He was angry. He was happy. He was very horny. And he was hungry.
While Tenzin appeared completely nonchalant.
“It is a good idea,” she said, “otherwise I would not be doing it.” She looked straight at him. “But that does not mean I regret having sex with you. That was instinctual, but a good instinct. Is that why you came to my room?”
“What? No!”
“Because I know you’re aroused.”
“No. That’s not…” He’d initially come to talk to her about the New York house, but he’d gotten distracted by Nintendo carnage and New Year’s resolutions and… Tenzin.
“Okay.” She swung her legs. “Did you want to—?”
“Right.” Ben jumped to his feet and headed toward the door. “Um… we have a big night tomorrow, so I’m going to… leave.” He turned at the door and her annoyingly perfect eyebrow was arched again. “Bye.”
17
Tenzin stretched back on the bed and reached for the journal she’d brought with her. It was one Nima had written during a particularly turbulent part of their life together, just after Nima had decided she would not turn.
As Tenzin felt the sun rise, she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to drift in the fluid space that had become her favorite part of the day.
It wasn’t exactly sleep, but it was close. She felt the touch of a single familiar finger slide across her cheek.
“He still loves you.”
She turned and
