It was so pathetic... so utterly at odds with the badass person I was trying to become. I was supposed to be strong and fearless. A warrior laughing in the face of destruction. I should have hated that those words had escaped into the wild where someone else could hear them. But Rans only shifted on his elbows, freeing a hand to smooth over my hair, still sheltering me beneath him.
“I don’t wish for us to be parted,” he said slowly, as though choosing his words with care. “But, Zorah... our souls are bound. If there’s anything at all to be found beyond this current life of shadows, I have faith that we’ll face it together.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I nodded, my forehead sliding against cool, pale skin. “I’m sorry I dragged you into all this,” I told him in a tiny voice.
“I’m not,” he replied without hesitation, rolling us so I was tucked against his side, my head resting on his shoulder.
ELEVEN
WE MADE LOVE until dawn lightened the sky beyond the window. Rans made good on his vow to have me in every way a man could have a woman, and his tenderness broke something in me, I was absolutely certain.
Things that had been trapped inside me for as long as I could remember were leaking out. I didn’t like it. And at the same time, I also felt a sense of relief more profound than anything I’d known before. The contradiction was too difficult to deal with head on, so I hid in Rans’ arms instead.
“You’ve been awfully quiet about your father’s return,” Rans observed as the sun breached the horizon. We were resting, both of us finally spent. His fingers ran up and down my bicep absently—a soothing rhythm.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I asked, “What did you and he fight about, that first night after you met?”
His slow stroking of my arm didn’t falter. “Why, you, of course.” The words were wry. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “For someone who’s been largely absent from your life, he presumes quite a bit regarding his right to speak for you.”
“I imagine he’s upset that you turned me into a vampire,” I said. And that was the literal truth. I imagined he was upset, since it wasn’t as though he’d discussed his reaction with me directly. “Though I... feel like I should be more emotional about having him back,” I added reluctantly. “Physically back on Earth, I mean—and, y’know, mentally back, as well.”
He was silent for a beat, considering. “You’ve finally learned how to wall off your heart from him, it appears—at least to a degree. I’m not certain whether I should be relieved by that fact, or feel bad about it.”
And... geez. How messed up was that? I’d been a fucking pro when it came to walling off my heart from the one person I could truly trust with it. Meanwhile, I’d tagged around after Dad for decades like a puppy desperate for attention, even if that attention came in the form of a harsh word and a rolled-up newspaper.
Daddy issues, much?
My longstanding compulsion to say ‘I’m sorry’ reared its head, and I quashed it. “How about neither of the above?” I said instead. “You can just accept that it’s part of my journey, I guess. Maybe it’s a good thing; maybe it’s a bad thing. Time will tell, assuming time is something we still have the luxury of, after the next couple of days.”
He nodded, smoothing my hair back from my temple. Respecting my wishes, because apparently that was a thing people in healthy relationships did.
Who knew?
“Yes,” he agreed. “Though I’ll confess, this waiting is beginning to get to me—especially now that everything is more or less in place, with the exception of the principals. Ironic, I know, coming from someone who’s had centuries to perfect ‘waiting around for something to happen’ into an art form.”
I traced a fingertip over his chest absently—an aimless, invisible design. “I’d suggest a Twilight marathon to pass the time, but the irony’s too much for me right now.”
He snorted softly. “No thank you. I do, however, have a counterproposal involving a shower and some sleep. If Edward returns later today with Nigellus, there’s no telling how close on their heels Myrial is likely to be.”
I shot him a jaundiced look. “Hmm. That’s not exactly a recipe for sweet dreams, you know. But you’re right, on both counts. Especially the part about the shower.”
* * *
Despite the dark circumstances, there was something primally satisfying about sharing my modest bathroom with Rans. And we did, in fact, manage to sleep afterward. Or I did, anyway, since the rising sun still sapped my energy, albeit to a much lesser extent than it had the first few days after my turning.
Rans was already awake when I stirred several hours later, but he did at least look rested and well fed. Whatever we ended up facing, we’d be facing it while running at full power capacity. I could sympathize with his impatience, though. Once we’d checked in with Guthrie regarding his part of the preparations, there was nothing much for us to do. I couldn’t seem to settle.
I ended up cleaning the house, which was ridiculous since A) I hated cleaning, and B) nobody really lived here anymore—least of all, me. In a moment of supreme irony, Rans left me to my pointless dusting and went out back to mow the overgrown early-autumn lawn, using the very same lawnmower I’d been intending to get out of my garden shed when I’d first stumbled over him, unconscious after a shotgun blast through the chest.
“Okay, that was surreal,” I said, once he’d returned from his self-appointed task, smelling of sunlight and mown grass.
“I remember that shed as being roomier, somehow,” he
