Her attention drifted to the dresser and the small wooden box resting on top. She stood, keeping her eyes on him as she went to the box and removed the knife inside. “Come here.”
He slowly rounded the bed, but when he came within two feet, she held up a hand, stopping him.
“That’s close enough.” Grateful he listened, she curled her fingers around the handle of the knife, not like a weapon, but rather a scalpel. “Give me your arm.”
He extended his hand and waited for her to take it. The scratches from earlier were gone. He needed to wash away the blood, but a little water and soap and he’d be good as new.
“Can I try something?”
He nodded.
She took his hand and stepped closer. Her stomach churned with uncertainty and her hand trembled. She moved closer and hesitated, a thought occurring to her.
“If I cut you, will it hurt?”
“We feel pain, just like every living creature, but any tissue damage will correct itself as soon as the nerve receptors relay a message to the brain. And then it’s gone.”
And she was the one with a medical background? Her novice medical knowledge suddenly seemed outdated—if what he said was true. “Oh.”
It sort of made cutting him easier. Enough of the guessing games. She drew in a steadying breath and tightened her grip on his hand, turning it palm up.
“Stay still.”
The blade swiped the soft flesh of his forearm, just beneath the elbow. A sharp breath sucked between his teeth, but he hardly flinched.
“Sorry.”
Blood welled at the opening and she regretted not cleaning the area first or using a more sanitary blade. Who knew what sort of bacteria hid on a whittling knife?
The faster the blood rose to the surface the more she admitted this stupid experiment was a mistake. How could she believe such nonsense? What was wrong with her?
She released his hand, searching for something to clean the cut. “I’ll be right back.”
She reached for the knob and he pushed the door closed. “We’re not finished talking. You promised to stay in this room.”
“You’re bleeding. I’m going to get a rag from the kitchen to clean you up.” She pulled at the knob, but he wouldn’t budge. “Adam, let me open the—”
When she looked up at him, he showed her his arm. A smear of wet blood over slightly puckered skin.
The knife clattered to the floor and she staggered back. “That’s impossible.”
Tiny cells knit together before her eyes as the wound sealed and his damaged skin smoothed, restored to its flawless state.
“Do you believe me now, ainsicht?”
She grabbed his other arm, searched the skin. She turned his arm, examining every side, thinking she must have cut somewhere else, but there were no marks, not even a scar from some other time.
Her brow creased as her gaze slowly rose to his face. “What are you?”
This was why they didn’t age, why their skin didn’t wrinkle. How long did they stay like this, youthful and beautiful?
“People don’t just...” She swallowed. It broke the laws of science. “How long will you stay...”
He glanced at the floor. “Forever.”
She blinked, balking at such a claim. “That’s...” It wasn’t possible. Nothing lasted forever. Even the dinosaurs and polar ice caps had a shelf life. Fuck, even bees were dying!
“We can die. There are ways...” His gaze lifted to hers, his eyes pleading. “I’m facing such a fate now.”
His voice remained low and gentle, but his words penetrated like a scream, puncturing every theory she knew and replacing it with phenomena beyond the scope of normal scientific understanding.
“And if I help you?”
“I’ll go on living forever—we both will.”
Her brows drew together. “Am I...”
“Your life is in no immediate danger, but mortality will eventually catch up with you if you choose not to ... help me.”
“But if I do help you?”
“You’ll be immortal. You would stay here, because it’s safe here, and we would make a life together.”
A life on an Amish farm with people she didn’t know, forever linked to a man she didn’t know. But the thought of belonging triggered a sharp longing in her, no matter how misguided. She stuffed it away and turned her focus back to him.
“How many are there?”
“There are approximately two hundred of us here.”
“And other places?”
“I do not know. We only associate with our order. Even with the Elders’ meticulous record keeping, outsiders would be impossible to track. Our kind has always existed in secret and mastered the art of cloaking our existence, even to our own.”
“Why?”
“Because the world is a dangerous place.”
She rubbed a hand over her forehead and staggered to the bed. “I need to sit down.”
This time he took the chair and she appreciated him offering her some space. “We share more similarities than differences.”
“But we are different, Adam.”
“If you stayed, I would make you like me.”
Her head snapped up. “You can do that?”