Die for Me

“But I can’t do that in good conscience. Not with you. I can’t let someone who I feel I could care deeply for begin this journey without knowing the consequences. Knowing that I’m different. That I have no idea what this could mean if it goes further. . . .” He seemed both dismayed by his own words and determined to spit them out. “I hate even having to talk to you like this. It’s too much, too fast.”

He paused for a moment and looked down at our hands, separated by mere inches of cobblestone.

“Kate, I can’t stop myself from wanting to be with you. So I’m putting all of this forward for you to consider. To decide what you want. I want to try. To see how we could be. But I will walk away right now if you give me the word—only you know what you can handle. What happens next, with us, is up to you. You don’t have to decide right now, but it would be nice to know how you feel about what I’ve said.”

Drawing my feet up from where they dangled off the edge of the quay, I wrapped my arms around my legs. I rocked back and forth for a few minutes in silence and did something I rarely allowed myself to do. I thought about my parents. About my mother.

She teased me for being impetuous, but had always told me to follow my heart. “You have an old soul,” she said once. “I wouldn’t say this to Georgia, and for God’s sake, don’t tell her I told you this. But she doesn’t have the same intuition you do. The same ability to see things for what they are. I don’t want you to be afraid to go after the things you really want in life. Because I think you will want the right things.”

If she could only see what I wanted now, she would eat her words.

Shifting my eyes from the passing boats to Vincent, sitting motionless by my side, I studied his profile as he looked out at the water, lost in his own thoughts. It wasn’t even a choice. Who was I trying to fool? I had made my decision the first time I saw him, whatever my rational mind had tried to convince me of since then.

I leaned toward him. Reaching up with one hand, I swept my fingers down his arm, ru

His eyes showed pain, despair even, but not surprise. My answer was the one he had expected.

“I’m not saying no, either,” I continued, and he visibly relaxed. “I’m going to need some things if we’re going to see each other.”

He let out a low, sexy laugh. “So you’re making demands, are you? Well, let’s hear them.”

“I want unlimited access.”

“Now that sounds interesting. To what, exactly?”

“To information. I can’t do this if I don’t understand what I’m getting into.”

“Do you need to know everything right away?”

“No, but I don’t want to feel like you’re hiding anything either.”

“Fair enough. As long as it goes both ways.”

A slight smile lifted the corners of his perfectly sculpted lips. I looked away, before I lost my courage.

“I need to know when I’m not going to see you for a while. When you do the death-sleep thing. So that I won’t worry that I’ve driven you off with my mortality. Or my incessant questions.”

“Agreed. That’s easy enough to schedule, when things are normal. But if something were to happen to . . . throw things off . . .”

“Something like what?”

“Do you remember being told about how we stay young?”

“Oh. Right.” The awful image of Jules jumping in front of the train returned to my mind’s eye. “You mean if you were to ‘save someone.’”

“Then I would be sure to get word to you from one of my kindred.”

I remembered hearing him use that word before. “Why do you say ‘kindred’?”

“It’s what we call one another.”

“Kind of medieval-sounding, but okay,” I said skeptically.

“Anything else?” he asked, looking every bit like a naughty schoolboy waiting to be given his punishment.

“Yes. It doesn’t have to be right away, but . . . you have to meet my family.”

Vincent laughed outright, a rich sound that startled me with its amusement and relief. Leaning toward me, he took me in his arms and said, “Kate. I knew you were an old-fashioned girl. A girl after my own heart.”

I let myself melt into his embrace for a few seconds, and then pulled back and assumed the most serious expression I could muster. “I’m not committing to anything, Vincent. Just to the next date.”

All of a sudden I felt that the old me—the pre-car-wreck Brooklyn me—was outside looking in at the new me, the me that not even a year ago had been forced to instantly grow up. The me who had been battle-scarred by tragedy. I was amazed to witness myself sitting next to this breathtaking guy and speaking those cautious words to him. How on earth had I morphed so quickly into this levelheaded person? How could I be sitting there, stoically laying down conditions for something that I wanted more than anything I’d ever had?

Self-preservation. Those two words came to my mind, and I knew what I was doing was right. My whole being had been torn to shreds when I lost my parents. I didn’t want to open myself up to falling for Vincent and risk losing him, too. Deep down I knew I had barely survived my parents’ “disappearance.” I might not survive another.

Chapter Sixteen

“LET’S WALK,” VINCENT SAID AND, HELPING ME to my feet, held his arm out for me to hold. We strolled as we watched boats plow past us through the dark green water, leaving frothy wakes behind them and sending large, rolling waves clapping against the stones under our feet.

“So how did you . . . die? I mean the first time,” I asked.

Vincent cleared his throat. “Can I wait until later to tell you my story?” he asked, sounding uncomfortable. “I don’t want to completely weird you out by talking about who I used to be before having the chance to show you who I am now.” He shot me an awkward smile.

“Does that mean I don’t have to tell you about my past either?” I lobbed back.

“No,” he groaned. “Especially since I’ve barely started to figure you out.” He paused. “Just please, don’t ask me yet. Any other question, just not that.”

“Okay, how about . . . why do you have a photo of me next to your bed?” I prodded.

“Did that creep you out?” he said, laughing.

“Yeah, kind of,” I admitted. “Although I saw it about a second after I found you dead on your bed, so the creep factor was already pretty high.”

“Well, Charlotte and I had to fight over that one,” he said. “Did you notice the photos on my walls?”

“Yes. On Charlotte’s, too. She said they were people she had saved.”

He nodded. “They’re our ‘rescues.’ And after we saved you, we both laid claim to your picture.”

“How’s that?” I asked, confused.

“Well, you know that day at the café when you almost became a bit of Paris history?”

I nodded.

“Charlotte waved you over, which is why you moved in time to avoid the falling stone. But I’m the one who told her it was about to happen.”

“You were there?” I asked, stopping in my tracks and staring up at him.

“Yes . . . in spirit. Not in body,” Vincent said as he pulled me along with him.

“In spirit? I thought you said you aren’t ghosts.”

Vincent put his hand on mine, and I began to feel like I had been hit with a mini dose of tranquilizers.

“Stop it with the ‘calming touch’ thing. Just explain. I can handle it.” Vincent left his hand on mine, but the warm fuzzy feeling went away. He smiled guiltily, like he had been caught cheating on an exam.

Without patting myself too much on the back, I felt I was handling things pretty well. Besides learning that the guy I liked was immortal, I thought I was taking the supernatural how-things-work lessons in stride. I hadn’t freaked out. Much. Okay, except when I saw Jules get killed. And found the obituary photos. And came across Vincent “dead” in his bed. All of which were totally understandable freak-out occasions, I reassured myself.