He grabbed her by the arms. “You're dying?»
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “The doctors say that I have six months, if I'm lucky.»
«And if you're not?” His scar was a vivid white against his skin.
«Two months.»
He swore viciously and closed his eyes.
«So, you see, I don't have anything to lose.” She had to make him understand, had to make him listen. He must give her the kiss!
His eyes opened slowly and he stared down at her, his expression fierce. “What's wrong with you?»
She rubbed her throbbing temple with a tired hand. What wasn't wrong with her? She couldn't remember what it was like to feel healthy, strong. She'd spent the last five years of her life in and out of hospitals. Going through endless exams. Endless treatments. Nothing had helped her. Nothing could help her.
«I have a brain tumor.” Her voice was perfectly calm. She'd gotten used to telling people. Her stomach didn't clench anymore. Her hands didn't shake.
«Surely the doctors can—»
She shook her head. “There's nothing they can do. They tried. Believe me, they tried, but…” She shrugged.
His eyes seemed to burn down at her. His face was like carved stone. Had her words affected him? Would he help her now?
«You understand, don't you? You understand why I must have the kiss?” She waited, hope flickering through her heart.
He turned from her and stared into the night. “No, I don't understand.” He paused, seemingly lost in thought. “You said you didn't have anything else to lose. You're wrong. You still have your soul.»
Unlike Savannah, William had lost his soul long ago. The moment Henry had taken his last, shuddering breath. The moment the blood had stopped flowing from the gaping hole in his chest, William's soul had died.
And he just couldn't bring himself to destroy Savannah's soul.
«So you're going to let me die?” Her voice was sharp, angry.
William felt his throat tighten at her words. Let her die? He shuddered at the thought. She had such strength, such passion within her.
He moved quickly, turning to capture her against his chest. “I'll help you. I'm rich. I can send you to the best doctor in the country—»
Her eyes flashed. “Didn't you hear me? The doctors can't help me! I'm dying, William. I will be dead before the year is out.»
William knew that doctors could perform miracles these days. It wasn't like it had been in his time. Sickness could be cured. “With the right care—»
She laughed savagely. “The right care? They cut into my brain. They shaved my head, and they cut into my brain. Then they told me I was saved. That the cancer was gone.” She took a deep breath. “Within two years, the tumor was back. And it was bigger than before. They made me endure their tests again. The therapy. The shots. Nothing worked. Nothing.” She looked deeply into his eyes. “The doctors can't help me. Only you can.»
His jaw clenched against the pain he heard in her voice. Against the images her words aroused in his mind.
«Please.” A whisper of sound. “Help me.»
The moonlight caressed her skin, illuminating the two tears that trickled gently down her cheeks. He caught the tears on his fingers, stared wonderingly at them.
Savannah grabbed his hand. “William—please.»
She looked so beautiful in the moonlight. So pure. So alive.
Could he really just stand back and watch death take her?
Her gaze beseeched him, a silent echo to her plea. Her firm br**sts pressed against his chest. The warmth from her body reached out to him, wrapped around him. The delicate scent of lavender rose once more to tease his nostrils.
«Please. I will do anything you want…»
His body stiffened as lust tore through him. “Be careful what you offer, sweet Savannah.»
She shook her head and pressed ever closer to him. “No, name your price. If I have it, I'll give it to you, I swear!»
Need and hunger battled against his judgment.
«Anything,” she whispered, her voice desperate.
«Why? Why, Savannah?»
She bit her lip and her lashes fell, cloaking her gaze from him. “Because of Mark.»
«Who is Mark?” William asked softly, as an unfamiliar rage swept through him. “Your lover?” The words were a growl, and he knew his gaze pierced her.
«A dead man.»
William frowned.
Savannah pulled away from William and rubbed her arms, telling herself that the chill she felt was caused by the night air and not the memory of her brother. “He's been gone almost a year now.»
«I'm sorry.” William's voice was solemn. “Death is never easy.»
And he would know. Savannah nodded, accepting his sympathy. For months after Mark's death, she'd hated the empty words that her friends gave her. The empty condolences. They hadn't understood what she was going through. They hadn't understood what she felt.
He understood. She knew it. William understood her loss.
«What happened to him?»
«He was … killed.” A scream echoed in her mind, and a flash of blood filled her vision.
William's gaze was intense. The moonlight seemed to reflect in his eyes and shine back at her. “How was he killed?»
She took a deep breath. “A vampire killed him. Him and his wife.” They'd only been married for a little over a year. They'd gone to the family cabin in the woods, planning to have a nice, romantic weekend getaway.
«How do you know it was a vampire?»
«Mark and I were twins. We always had a special connection. And, when the second tumor came, something happened to me. It … changed me. Changed my mind. After that, Mark and I weren't just close emotionally, we were—” She broke off, not certain how to explain. “Sometimes, I could read his thoughts. Share his dreams. We were connected. More connected than I've ever been to another person.” At first, the connection had been frightening, overwhelming. But, then, with each day that passed, she'd grown more accustomed to the feeling of sharing another's mind, another's thoughts.
William nodded once, accepting her words. “Were you connected to him the night that he died?»
She swallowed and looked down at her hands. They were clenched into tight fists. “I thought it was just a nightmare. I could see him, I could see Sharon, and they looked so happy.” When she closed her eyes, she could still see them sitting by the fire, laughing, kissing.
«There was a knock at the door.” Her voice was hollow, wooden. “Mark had barely opened the door before … it attacked him.” A shudder racked her body. “Its eyes, his eyes,” she corrected, “were red, like they were on fire. He picked Mark up by the neck and threw him across the room.” A scream echoed in her mind. “He killed Sharon. Before she could even stand up, she was dead. Blood soaked her neck. Her gown. The floor…»