Erik pushed away from the mantel. "It's all right, Daisy. I think we both knew this night was coming."
"I don't know what you mean."
"This isn't the time to start lying to each other."
She looked up at him, her mind running in a dozen directions all at once.
"I don't want you to mistake lust for love, or gratitude for affection."
"But..." She crossed her arms over her br**sts, certain she didn't want to hear whatever was coming next.
"Hear me out. We've been through a lot together in the last few weeks. I think you need to spend a little time by yourself to sort out your feelings."
"You were listening, weren't you?"
"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," he said with a shrug. "In any case, I would have suggested we spend some time apart anyway. I'm a vampire..."
"Really?" she exclaimed with mock surprise. "I had no idea."
"Daisy." He closed the distance between them, his hands folding lightly over her shoulders. "You need to think this through. Are you ready to spend your life with me, with a vampire? In a good relationship, each party gives fifty percent. If you stay with me, you'll be giving up much more than I will. I can't conform my life to yours. You'll have to conform your life to mine. Can you do that? Do you want to do that?"
She blinked up at him, doubt and confusion evident in her expression.
"The fact is, affairs between vampires and mortals rarely last. I care for you more than I've ever cared for anyone, mortal or otherwise. And because of that, I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to steal your youth or your dreams. I don't want to look in your eyes years from now and see regret for the sacrifices you had to make to stay with me." He took a deep breath. "Most of all, I'm afraid I won't be able to keep my promise, that the day will come when I'll turn you against your will."
She continued to stare up at him, mute, a single tear glistening on one cheek.
"Good-bye, Daisy." Leaning down, he kissed the tear away, then brushed her lips with his. "God bless you."
Odd words coming from a vampire, Daisy thought. But before she could remark on it, before she could ask him to stay, he was gone.
Chapter 36
Rhys stood over what was left of Mariah. He felt neither regret nor remorse for what he had done. She had brought it on herself, the ungrateful traitor.
Thunder rolled across the skies and he lifted his face to the storm, wondering, as he did from time to time, what his ultimate fate would be. He had never professed to believe in either heaven or hell, but if there was an afterlife, he supposed he was bound for hell. At least he wouldn't be alone.
Rhys grunted softly. He'd have a few friends there in the pit with him, and a lot of enemies, he thought, looking at Mariah's remains. He wondered if his old buddy ever thought about where they would spend eternity. Of course, Erik had other things on his mind just now.
Rhys smiled faintly. She was a pretty little thing, Erik's Daisy. And head over heels in love with a vampire. He wondered if she realized what living with a vampire would mean. Delacourt was a decent guy, but he was still a vampire, with a vampire's needs. Had Daisy considered what would happen in thirty or forty years, given any thought to how she would feel when Erik was still young and virile and she was an old woman? She didn't have to age, of course. She could surrender to the Dark Gift, give up her humanity, her family, any hope she had of bearing children.
There was a reason why few vampires became vampires by choice. As exciting as it was to be Nosferatu, there was a heavy price to pay. You could live forever, but those you loved would wither and die. Food became a distant memory. The moon became your sun. Humanity became your enemy.
He glanced at Mariah's remains again, bemused by his maudlin thoughts. She had betrayed him and she had paid the requisite price for her treachery. Tomorrow, the sun would take care of what little was left.
A thought took him to the flat roof of La Morte Rouge. Standing there, he looked out over the city, the undisputed master of all he surveyed.
He turned as he sensed a presence behind him. "Erik. What brings you here? I thought you'd be curled up with that pretty little flower."
"I thought so, too," Erik replied. "But who would know better than you that life rarely turns out the way we plan."
"Indeed. So what happened?"
"Nothing. I just decided to let her go."
"How very noble of you," Rhys muttered. "What brought that on?"
"A lot of things." It was more than just the doubts her father had planted in her mind. He couldn't help thinking that circumstances more than anything else had brought them together. There was nothing like danger to intensify emotions. Maybe Daisy truly loved him. Maybe what she felt was nothing but affection multiplied by gratitude because he had saved her life. Of course, he had put her in danger, too. But mainly, he had decided to let her go because he loved her. She deserved far more from life than he would ever be able to give her.
"Erik?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Rhys nodded. "Fair enough. I've found fresh blood and a new woman to be a remarkable cure for most of life's problems." Lifting his head, he sniffed the wind. "I smell prey nearby." He slapped Erik on the shoulder. "What say you, Lord Erik? Shall we hunt?"
Erik glared at Rhys. Lord Erik, indeed. How many years had it been since that title had been his? He wondered what had become of the land that had once belonged to his family. Was it still in Delacourt hands, or had others laid claim to his family's birthright? And what the hell did he care?
Feeling the weight of Costain's gaze, Erik faced his old friend. "Fresh blood," he murmured. "Let's hunt."
She wouldn't cry. Daisy sat by the living room window, staring out into the darkness. Erik was out there somewhere. If she homed in on the link they shared, would she be able to read his thoughts, or had he erected a barrier between them? The last time he had tried that, he had failed, but he had been hurting then, weak from pain and hunger.
He had left her with nothing more than a quick kiss and a hasty good-bye. Left her flat because he had listened in on her conversation with her father. She tried to summon some measure of anger, but she couldn't. All she felt was a sense of overwhelming weariness and loss. She thought she might feel better if she cried, but she didn't seem to have any tears. Just emptiness.
She stared up at the painting over the fireplace, remembering how thrilled she had been when Erik gave it to her. At least she had something to remember him by.