really want with Michael? Was there any chance at all of us attaining any lasting happiness? Was I fooling myself, like I had been with Trevor? Michael was nothing like him. No way. Not only did he lack Trevor’s mortal inadequacies. Michael also outweighed him in compassion and heart a hundred times over .
The future was a fathomless wall, looming up before us. No ladder would help us see what might be beyond that darkness. Then something sparked in my memory. There was someone who had the ability to see through that wall and determine what could happen to us. I didn’t know very much about her, but Victoria could tell me. I needed to talk to Meekah.
My cell phone chirped at me suddenly, startling me.
“Hello?”
“Sarah, we’re here.” Victoria’s voice was high and bright.
“I’ll be right down.”
“No. Send Jackson. Michael’s request.”
I hesitated for only a moment or two, my fingers gripping the edges of my cell phone in anticipation.
“Are you sure? I could come down there myself in just a few minutes.”
There was a fleeting silence on the line before a familiar male voice reached through the line and caused preemptory shivers to course through me.
“Sarah, it’s me.” Michael. I almost sighed into the phone.
“Hi.”
“If you would, please ask Jackson to come let us into the containment zone.”
“But why?”
“You ask too many damned questions, woman. Just ask him.”
“Okay, fine.”
Jackson did go down to meet them, but it was an hour before Victoria came to the front door with Jones. Michael was not on the front porch, and I had not seen Jackson since he had gone down the road to let them into the containment field.
Victoria’s smil e was warm and her voice hushed. “He’s waiting for you in the family cabin.”
“Michael? Where’s Jackson?”
“Michael will explain everything. I have to go. Can I have your permission?”
“Yes, of course. You may go.”
Michael was waiting for me in the family cabin? Oh…
CHAPTER 8 – Michael
Victoria and Jones asked if they could help with anything, but I insisted on preparing everything myself. The cabin wasn’t in horrible shape, but I shook out the rugs and wiped down the kitchen and bathroom counters with some lemon-scented cleaning fluid I’d found in the linen closet. I tried to put fresh sheets on the large bed upstairs but grew frustrated with the fitted sheet and tossed a blanket over it all. I hoped Sarah wouldn’t notice. I started a fire in the stone fireplace and then looked at myself in the mirror over the mantle.
My hair was longer than Sarah had e ver seen it. It was a reminder of my early days, crossing Europe time and time again after having become a vampire. Those were dark days for me. And even darker for any humans who se blood happened to pique my interest.
Truthfu lly, I felt like a fool. After my efforts to create a cozy place for us to spend an evening, I began to wonder if Sarah was even the type of woman to be drawn into intimacy with such tactics. What did I hope to achieve once the night was over? My desire was to see her happy, warm and glowing with life. I wanted her to know that s he wouldn’t be cold tonight.
Tonight. And after tonight? After the evening was over and her eyes moved over me with questions, how would I respond? I turned away from the mirror and stalked through the tiny kitchen area, thirst and anger pulsing through my fingertips. I opened the door to the refrigerator and looked at what I had put inside.
Other than the five bags of blood, there were two cans of diet cola and an extra bottle of wine. I hadn’t thought to brin g food for her. It seemed symbolic. Perhaps I expected her to want to become undead like me. She certainly wouldn’t need food in that case. But I had only considered Sarah’s temporary needs for this evening. Not her real happiness or what