Single White Vampire (25 page)

“No. You'll make love to me and bite me and my brain will turn to mush.” She pulled her hand free and backed up to the edge of the porch. “I need to think, Luc. You're asking me to give up everything I know, everything I love.”

“
Everything
you love?” he asked softly, pain on his face.

“No. I love…”

Lucern held his breath. If she said she loved him, too, nothing on earth would stop him from dragging her into
the house and claiming and turning her. But she stopped short of admitting it, her expression wary. Shaking her head, she backed up to the edge of the porch. “I have to go home and think about this. I have to decide…”

Kate whirled away and started down the stairs, but he hurried to catch her arm. She turned frightened eyes on him, and Lucern knew she feared he would take the choice away. For a moment, he was terribly tempted. But then he recalled those words the psychic had said, and he knew he couldn't fight this dragon for Kate. He had fought his own dragons, bypassed his pride and fears and placed his heart in her hands. Now he had to trust that she was strong enough to keep it safe.

He let go of her arm and said, “I'll call a cab for you.”

Kate relaxed, a grateful smile tipping her lips. “Thank you.”

Kate managed to get a flight back to New York that night. She spent the time before, during and after the flight wavering between happiness and despair. Lucern loved her. She wasn't just a meal to him. He wasn't dead, didn't sleep in a coffin, and he loved her. All of these were wonderful, marvelous things. But to be with him, she had to be “turned,” had to give up her family and friends—or would have to ten years down the road. That was not marvelous.

Kate considered everything. She thought perhaps she could be with him and not turn, but the idea of aging, her body and mind deteriorating while Lucern stayed strong and sharp-minded, was unbearable. She suspected he would stay with her if that was her choice, but the idea of his hands playing over her wrinkled, sagging flesh, and leaning her gray head against his strong, muscular chest…No, she would never do that to them.

Of course, she could simply have an affair with Lucern, then break it off in ten or twenty years when people started mistaking her for his mother. But she could barely imagine walking away from him willingly now; doing so after loving and sharing her life with him for ten or twenty years would be impossible.

Which meant she had two options: allow him to turn her and give up everyone else she knew and loved in ten or twenty years, or walk away now, while she had the strength. Neither option seemed acceptable. Despite the distance that separated them since she left Nebraska and moved to New York, she was very close to her family. Her mother and father often came to New York to attend plays or to shop, and they stayed with her. And her sisters made several trips a year to New York, to visit, shop and just generally hang out with her. They were her family, knew and loved her better than anyone. They had encouraged her dream to write, had thought her intention to be an editor in the city was admirable. They were her support, the foundation of her life. But to have Lucern, she would have to give them up. Or to have them, she'd have to give up Lucern.

Kate hardly slept that night. In the morning, she showered, dressed and went out to catch the subway to Roundhouse. Her mind had been going in circles all night and she had yet to come up with an answer that would allow her to keep both Lucern and her family. It was making her crazy. She was desperate to get away from the concern for a bit, and hoped that some work would take her mind off of it.

Chris was in the office when she arrived. It wasn't surprising to Kate; all of the other editors worked long
hours and weekends. Chris, however, was terribly surprised to see her.

“I thought you'd be in Toronto right now, playing kissy-face with Luc,” he teased, but there was concern in his eyes as he saw how pale and weary she was. That concern was echoed in his solemn voice when he asked, “Was I wrong, then? Did he really just want to discuss a tour?”

Kate shook her head and walked past him along the hall to her office. “You weren't wrong. We didn't discuss the tour at all.”

“What did you discuss, then?” Chris asked, following her.

Kate set her briefcase on her desk. She stared down at it silently. Then, instead of answering, she asked, “Chris, if you could live forever, would you?”

He gave a bark of laughter. “Shit, no! Live forever and have authors chasing me for eternity? Dear God, you'll give me nightmares.”

Kate smiled at the exaggerated horror on his face, but said, “I'm serious, C.K. Say you didn't have to deal with writers anymore. You could live somewhere else, with someone you love very much. You would have money, love, live forever and never age.”

“What's the catch?” he asked with the cynicism she expected.

“The catch would be that, because you didn't age, you would have to give up your family and friends and disappear from their lives forever. To have your one passionate, almost all consuming love, you would eventually have to give up many people you love.”

Chris whistled softly. “That's a tough one.” He
thought about it briefly, then said, “Well, I guess it would depend upon how much I loved her. I mean, family are special, but they have family of their own.”

Kate frowned. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Well, couples have kids who grow up, fall in love, move away and have kids and a family life of their own. The original family are still important to them, but their own children become a priority. When push comes to shove, their own family comes first.”

“Yes, but—”

“Is this character a man or a woman?” Chris interrupted. Kate blinked.

“What?”

“The character? I presume you're fretting over the plot of a book, yes?”

Kate hesitated, then nodded. She could hardly tell him that it was real life. He'd think her nuts, she'd gone off her cracker. “A woman.”

Chris nodded. “That makes it easier, then.”

“It does?”

“Sure. Women have been faced with this decision down through ages. From medieval times on, they grew up, married and moved away, usually far enough that they didn't see their family ever again,” he pointed out. “After all, it wasn't as if they could hop a plane.”

“No,” Kate agreed slowly.

“Heck, you even faced a similar choice when you came here to work. You left your family in Nebraska.”

Kate frowned. “That's different. They're there if I need them. It isn't like I will never see them again.”

“Well, they'll still be there for this character, too. It isn't like they will die when she disappears from their
lives. She could probably see them from a distance, keep tabs on them. And if there was an emergency, and she really had to, she could probably approach them in the future. Somehow.”

Kate nodded slowly. She hadn't thought of that. She might not be able to speak to them but…”

“Is this a modern book or an historical like his first?” Chris asked.

Kate hesitated. He obviously thought she was concerned about Lucern's latest book. “Modern,” she said at last, leaving him his delusion.

“Hmm, that makes it a bit harder,” he decided.

“Why?” Kate asked.

“Well…if it was a medieval like his first one, the heroine could move away and still correspond with her family. They would never know she wasn't aging. But nowadays, it would be hard to move somewhere that wasn't a flight away.”

That might work
, Kate thought to herself. She smiled at him. “You're pretty good with plot devices, my friend.”

“That's why they pay me the big bucks.” He gave her a wink.

Kate laughed. None of them got paid big bucks. They were underpaid, overworked and stressed most of the time. And she had moved all the way from Nebraska to do it. They were all insane, she thought with a shake of the head. But they loved books. She picked up her briefcase and headed for the door.

“Where are you going now?” Chris asked with interest. He fell into step beside her.

“Home to bed. I need more sleep before I can consider your suggestions properly.”

 

Kate slept long and hard, mostly because she was sure there was an answer to her problem in what Chris had said. If she could just think clearly, she would find it. That belief eased the ache in her heart and gave her some hope for a possible future with Lucern.

It was mid-afternoon when Kate awoke to the sound of knocking on her door. Stumbling sleepily out of bed, she dragged her fuzzy pink robe and pink bunny slippers on over her flannel bunny nightgown and made her way into the living room.

“Who is it?” she asked through a yawn when she reached the door.

“Marguerite.”

Kate stiffened, her weariness disappearing in a heartbeat. Lucern's mother? Dear God.

The smile she offered in greeting was a wary one when she opened the door. “Mrs. Argeneau. What a surprise.”

“I imagine so.” Marguerite's smile was confident and amused. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” Kate stepped out of the way to allow the woman to enter, then closed the door and followed her down the short hall to the tiny living room. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice?”

“No, thank you.” Marguerite settled on the couch, her gaze slipping over the manuscript on the coffee table, then to the computer set up on the small dining-room table. “I see you are a writer like Lucern.”

Kate's gaze dropped self-consciously to the first ten
chapters of the story she was writing. She'd printed them to edit, then never got the chance.

“It's no wonder the two of you deal well together. You are the same in many ways, but the opposite in others.”

Kate shifted uncomfortably. “Mrs. Argeneau—”

“I asked you to call me Marguerite, if I recall,” she interrupted calmly.

“Marguerite,” Kate corrected. “I—”

“I came to help you,” Luc's mother interrupted again. “Not to badger or berate you, but to help you make what is probably the hardest decision of your life.”

Kate hesitated, then asked, “Can you? Can you really help me? Lucern is your son.”

“Yes, he is. But I also had to make this decision myself several hundred years ago. I know how hard it is.”

Surprise flickered in Kate. “You mean, you weren't—”

“I was human like you when I met Luc's father, Claude. He was dark and sexy and seemed all-powerful to me at the time. I thought I loved him. I thought he loved me. He didn't. His heart had been given to another long before he chose me to mate.”

Kate sat back, feeling as if she had been punched. She had questioned whether she could give up her family for Lucern, but had never questioned her love for him. Not since admitting it to herself in that hotel bathroom at the conference. But what if she didn't really love him, but was merely dazzled by his charm and powers and…Her thoughts died when Marguerite burst out laughing.

“I'm sorry, my dear,” the woman apologized, cover
ing her mouth for a moment. She explained. “It's just that your thoughts are quite the silliest I have heard in a long time. Dazzled by his charm and powers? You are half repulsed by those powers—they frighten you silly. As for his charm, Luc is my son and I love him, but even I must admit he is sadly lacking in charm. The man was as surly and grouchy as a bear with a burr up his butt until you came into his life.”

Kate was shocked to hear the woman use such modern terms, but she was more concerned with: “You can read my mind?”

Marguerite nodded.

“But, Lucern said my mind was too strong for him to read. He said—”

“
He
couldn't read your mind,” Marguerite assured her. “You guarded it from him because you were already half in love. You don't bother to guard it from me, however, and I have read your mind and recognized your reluctant respect and love all along. Never doubt your love for him, Kate. You recognized his true character from his books, and that his off-putting behavior hides a sensitive soul. You have learned much more since meeting him and you do love him…despite those special abilities you find so abhorrent.”

Kate was silent for a moment. “But you didn't love your Claude.”

“No. Not with the kind of love you and Lucern share. Claude wasn't as strong as our children have grown to be. He was an essentially weak man, though I loved him as such. By the end, he was like a fifth child rather than the partner and helpmate a husband should be. He didn't seem to have hope—I think that's why he
turned to drinking from alcoholics and drug addicts and died the way he did.” She sighed. Then, shrugging, she said, “But that does not matter. What matters is that, despite that, I have never regretted my decision to cleave to him. I have four wonderful children and two children-in-law from it. I have seen the world change and reshape in ways I never imagined. I have done almost everything I ever wanted, yet every day I come up with more things I want to do.”

“But what if I'm not strong enough? What if I turn out to be like Claude?”

“You are strong enough,” Marguerite assured her. “I have seen your mind. You, Lucern and all my children—you have hope. No matter how bad the situation gets, or how low you feel, there is still one little grain of hope left in your heart, and that makes you strong. It forces you eventually to wipe away the tears, slap a bandage on your wounds, and reenter the fray. You would do well as Lucern's lifemate.”

Kate agreed. But that still left one concern. “My family?”

Marguerite's expression turned sad. “Yes. Your family. It must seem like we are asking you to give up everything to be with one special man.”

Kate suddenly held her breath as Marguerite's words made her recall the psychic:
“He is special, your man. But to be with him you will have to make a choice. You will have to give up all. If you have the courage, everything you ever wanted will be yours. If not…”

“We would be your family, Kate,” Marguerite said softly. “And so long as they lived, you could always have contact with your other family.”

“Lucern said that after ten years—”

“Yes.” Marguerite interrupted. “After ten or twenty years, Kate C. Leever must not be seen by those who know and love her—at least not those who are not of our kind. But you could still write to them. They must simply never see that you are not aging. You will have to avoid them and travel, make excuses not to visit or not to attend funerals. It would be easier for Kate to have an accident and be thought of as dead, but there are other more intricate ways to work things out. Surely Lucern is worth that effort?”

 

“Thanks,” Lucern muttered as Bastien closed the van door on the coffin he and Lucern had just moved out of the basement.

“No problem,” Bastien assured him. “I'll store it in my basement until Etienne can bring himself to part with it. I'll just tell my housekeeper not to bother cleaning down there for a while.”

Lucern shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. He supposed he should invite his brother in for a drink or something, but he really didn't feel like talking much right now. His mother had come by that morning to see how he was doing. Apparently, Etienne had mentioned that Kate had come by. Marguerite had made him tell her what had happened between them, then had left him to his own devices. He suspected that Bastien's coming by to pick up the coffin had just been an excuse to check on him again, and he fully expected that Etienne and Lissianna would find their way to his home sooner or later to check as well. He supposed he should be grateful for the distraction they offered. He
had been driving himself nuts pacing his home, waiting for Kate to make up her mind.