"Jason." She whispered his name, just his name, but it conveyed all the loneliness she'd felt during their separation, her anguish at the thought of never seeing him again, the deep void his absence had left in her life.
"I know," he said, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I know."
Gently, he placed her on the bed, his hands moving over her face, lightly tracing the outline of her lips, her brows, the delicate curve of her cheek.
"Leanne, beloved…"
He bent to kiss her again, and yet again, knowing he could never get enough of her, knowing that, if he existed for another three hundred years, he would never love like this again.
Leanne stroked his brow. It was so good to touch him again, to know that he still cared. Their separation had not been easy for him, either, she thought. There was a dark, haunted look in his eyes that had not been there before, a pain so deep it made her want to weep.
"Jason, let us go on as before."
His expression mirrored his surprise. "You can't mean that?"
"I do. I don't care that you're a…"
"You say you don't care," he remarked quietly, "yet you can't even say the word."
"Vampire. Vampire! I don't care what you are, only say you won't leave me, that you'll be a part of my life again."
"What kind of life can you have with me?" he asked in a voice filled with self-loathing. "How long will you be content with a man—a monster—who can never share the daylight with you, who can come to you only at night, who sometimes feeds on the living because he can't resist the urge to kill, because he can't always control his fiendish hunger, his rage?"
"I'll help you," she replied fervently. "I'll love you so completely you won't have to be angry anymore. And if you need to take someone's blood, you can take mine."
He gazed into the depths of her eyes, eyes filled with trust and hope, and for a moment he let himself believe that such a life was possible.
Knowing it was wrong, knowing that to touch her now would only bring them both pain later on, he kissed her.
Kissed her because he loved her so much, wanted her so much, needed her so desperately.
He began to undress her then, his hands moving reverently over her body as he reacquainted himself with the gentle contours of her body, the softness of her skin.
He closed his eyes, his joy so fierce it was almost agony, as she rid him of his clothes. She explored his hard-muscled body freely, letting her fingertips glide over the width of his shoulders, down his flat belly, the length of his thighs.
His response to her touch was instant, bringing a smile to her lips and a warm glow of pleasure to her eyes. He groaned softly as he drew her up against him, the lush curves of her body filling the emptiness in his.
His mouth covered hers again in a long, hungry kiss, and he knew if he held her and kissed her for the rest of his life, it wouldn't be enough.
Trembling with the need to merge his flesh with hers, he rose over her, wondering what miracle had brought her into his life. Surely, he had done nothing to deserve her love, her trust. He was a creature of the night, a man who had been cursed, but now felt blessed beyond belief.
Her arms wrapped around him as she lifted her hips in welcome invitation, taking him deep within herself, cherishing him, loving him, until he wanted to weep with the wonder of it. She whispered that she adored him, and her words fell on his heart like sunshine, chasing the darkness from his soul, filling him with warmth and light, making him forget, for a moment, that he was more monster than man.
He held her tight as her body convulsed beneath him, felt his self-control begin to slip as he watched the pulse that throbbed in her throat. A red mist veiled his eyes, reminding him that he wasn't a man, but a monster masquerading in human form, a fiend who had no right to love this woman.
He gazed into her eyes, eyes so like Jolene's, and into his memory came an image of his wife, her beauty fading, her health deteriorating, as time and disease ravaged her face and body while he stayed forever young. He could not endure the agony of watching Leanne grow old, could not bear the thought that she would die and leave him alone.
Neither could he bear the thought of being parted from her again, and yet he knew that, if he stayed, it would be only a matter of time before he succumbed to the awful craving for her blood, a need that even now was raging through him, as hot and fierce as his desire for her flesh.
As surely as he knew he must shun the sunlight or perish, he knew that he would force the Dark Gift on Leanne rather than watch her die. And he knew, just as surely, that she would hate him for it forever.
Painful as it would be, it would be better to leave her now, before he did something they would both regret, before her love turned to loathing.
He held her close, listening to the soft sound of her breathing as she fell asleep in his arms.
He had always feared dying, feared the prospect of an eternity, writhing in the flames of hell, but he feared it no longer.
Hell was not a place awaiting his soul, he thought in despair. Hell would be waiting for him when he kissed her good-bye.
He held her until the last moment, until he could feel the sunrise trembling on the brink of the horizon, feel the promised heat of it.
She murmured sleepily as he drew the covers over her, then bent and kissed her one last time.
And still he lingered, imprinting her image on his mind that he might carry it with him through all the endless days and nights of eternity.
Tomorrow night he would leave Los Angeles. It was the only way to keep from seeing her—the only way to keep her safe.
Chapter Ten
He had left her again. There was no note this time, no written words of farewell.
With grim certainty she knew he would never come back.
With equal certainty she knew she would not let him go.
It was Monday, and there were no performances scheduled. She straightened her apartment, wrote Jennifer a short letter that would account for her absence but explained nothing. Next, she penned a letter to her parents, telling them she loved them, saying she'd met a man and they were on their way to Europe for an extended holiday.
She took a long, hot bubble bath, shaved her legs, washed her hair, and then she stood in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door, studying her face and figure, knowing that, if her plans went as intended, she'd never see her face again—wondering, in a distant part of her mind, how a woman applied lipstick and mascara without the benefit of a looking glass.
Before she could lose her courage, she ran down the stairs to the garage, got into her car, and drove toward Jason's house.
She lingered on the porch, watching the sun go down in a blaze of color, imprinting the image on her mind.
And then, resolutely, she turned her back on the myriad colors splashed across the sky. Taking a deep breath, she took the heavy brass key from her pocket and opened the front door.
The inside of the house was as still as death.
Her footsteps made no sound as she made her way to the service porch, but she was sure the thudding of her heart could be heard as far away as Catalina.
As she'd done once before, she sat down and waited for him to rise, wondering, as she did so, if there was some kind of vampire law that would prohibit them from sleeping in a bed.
She felt her heartbeat increase as the basement door swung open, and then she forgot everything else but her love for Jason, and her reason for being there.
So, he thought, he had not imagined her presence, after all.
"Leanne," he said after a lengthy silence. "Why are you here?"
"You know why." She tilted her head back, baring her throat to his gaze. "Do it, Jason, do it now."
"No!" He turned away from her, his hands knotted into fists. He recoiled as if in pain when he felt her hand caress his back.
"I love you, Jason. If you can't, or won't, try to live in my world, then I'll live in yours."
"No.
No. No!" He whirled around, his eyes blazing. "How can you even consider it?"
"Because I want to be with you!" She placed her hands on his chest and gazed up at him, her eyes filled with love. "I love you. I don't want to live without you."
He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and then he took her hands in his.
"Look at me, Leanne," he said quietly. "Take a good look. Tell me what you see."
"I see the man I love, the man I've waited for my whole life."
"No. I'm not a man, and I can't pretend to be one any longer, not even for you."
He saw the protest rise in her eyes, and he silenced her with a look. "Face it, beloved. I'm a ghoul, a monster."
"No."
He lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed her palms, first one, then the other. "Go home, Leanne."
"I won't leave you, Jason. Nothing you can say will make me change my mind."
It was tempting, so tempting. He closed his eyes as he contemplated the ecstasy of bestowing the Dark Gift on her, of knowing that, as a creature of the night, she would be his forever. Never again would he be alone, his existence empty. She would bring him the sunlight he had not seen in three hundred years. He would know love and laughter, the taste of her kisses, the sound of her voice. They could travel the earth together. He could show her the wonders of the ancient world, take her to London, to Paris, to Rome. And perhaps, if he loved her enough, she'd never miss the sunlight, never regret forfeiting the opportunity to bear children…
He held the image close, savoring it, even though he knew he would not do it. Every day of his miserable existence, he had cursed Marguerite for what she'd done, for the mortal life she had stolen from him. He would not selfishly bequeath the same horrible fate to the woman he loved.
Slowly, he opened his eyes, drinking in the sight of her beloved face, knowing that, after this night, he would never see her again.
"I love you, Jason." She spoke the words with the simple faith of a child, as if they could make everything all right…
"And I love you," he replied fervently.
"And you'll stay with me forever?"
Tenderly, he brushed his knuckles over her cheek. "Only death will part us, beloved."
At his words Leanne shivered violently, as if someone had filled her veins with ice water. She knew then what he meant to do, knew it as surely as she knew the sun would rise in the morning.
"No!"
"Yesterday, you asked me for one last night. Now I ask the same of you."
"Jason, you can't mean to do it."
"You cannot stop me."
"I will not live without you!" She pummeled his chest with her fists. "Do you hear me, Jason Blackthorne, I will not live without you! If you kill yourself, you'll be killing me, too."
She looked up at him, her eyes awash with pain, though only a single tear trickled down her cheek.
He watched it for a moment, and then, compelled by an urge he could neither understand nor deny, he bent down and licked the tiny drop of moisture from her cheek.
For a moment he gazed into her eyes, and then he reeled back, his whole body on fire.
"Jason, what is it?"
He couldn't answer; he could only stare at her, the salty taste of that single tear incinerating his tongue, burning through every fiber of his being like a shaft of liquid sunlight.
He heard her voice sobbing his name as from a great distance, but he lacked the power to answer. He dropped to his hands and knees, his head hanging, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Go." He forced the word between clenched teeth.
"No, I won't leave you." She knelt beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder, only to jerk it away when the heat radiating from his flesh burned her palm. "What is it? What's happening?"
"Go!" With an effort he raised his head and met her gaze. "I'm dying."
She shook her head, her eyes filled with denial. "That's impossible."
"It's true." He groaned low in his throat as his body convulsed with agony. His blood was on fire; his skin seemed to be shrinking, melting. "Leave me." He took a deep shuddering breath. "Please, Leanne, if you love me, go from here."
She was sobbing now, her tears falling to the floor, splashing like liquid fire over his hands.
"Please, leave me," he implored her. "I don't want you to see…"
Using the chair for support, she stood up. If he wanted her to go, she would go, but only as far as the other room.
"I love you," she whispered brokenly. "I'll always love you."
But he was past hearing.
Chapter Eleven
Numb, she stared down at him, unable to believe he was dead. A distant part of her mind, a morbid part she hadn't even known existed, wondered why his body hadn't aged and dissolved into dust.
And then reality struck home. Jason was dead.
Slowly, she dropped to her knees beside him and cradled his head in her lap, the pain in her heart too deep for tears.
Gently, she smoothed the long dark hair from his brow. His skin felt warm and alive. Odd, she thought, when it had always felt cool before.
The hours passed unnoticed as she relived every moment she had spent with Jason, remembering how she had found herself looking for him outside the theater long before he introduced himself, remembering the instant attraction between them, the way she had known, that very first night, she could trust him.
A faint smile touched her lips as she caressed his cheek. She would have liked to walk along a sunlit beach with Jason at her side, watched the sun rise over the ocean, borne his children, grown old beside him.
She would have liked to make love to him one more time.
With a sigh she kissed him one last time, and then, very gently, she lowered his head to the floor and stood up.
Feeling empty and alone, she walked out of the house.
She hesitated on the veranda, her gaze caught by the fiery splendor of the sun as it climbed over the tops of the hills.
"I love you, Jason Blackthorne," she murmured, her fingertips absently stroking the heart-shaped locket he had given her. "I love you, and I'll never forget you." Tears welled in her eyes. "Never."
"Never is a long time."
Leanne whirled around, her hand flying to her throat. "Jason! You're alive!"
He held out his hands and flexed his fingers, looking at them as if he'd never seen them before. "So it would seem."
"But… but how?"
"I don't know." A wry grin tugged at his lips. "The love of a good woman, perhaps?" he mused, his finger catching a tear that hovered at the corner of her eye, "or perhaps it was the magic of a single tear shed for a monster who yearned to be a man."
They gazed at each other for a long moment, and then Leanne threw herself into his arms and hugged him tight.
"You're alive." She ran her fingertips over his face, then spread one hand over his chest, above his heart. "Alive," she murmured again. "Thank God."
He looked deep into her eyes, and then he smiled, a beautiful smile that went straight to her heart.
Lowering his head, he teased her lips with the tip of his tongue, and then he kissed her as gently as ever a man had kissed a woman, and it seemed he could taste the sunrise on her lips.
"Leanne," he murmured. "Do you think you could love this mortal man as you once loved the monster?"
"Oh, yes," she exclaimed softly, and the glow in her eyes was warmer and brighter than the sun he had thought never to see again.
His smile grew wider. "And do you think you could make love to me now, here, in the light of day?"
Happiness bubbled up inside of her. "I think so," she replied in a voice trembling with love and joy and excitement.
"And will you spend the rest of your life with me? Bear my children? Grow old at my side?"
"Yes," she promised fervently. "Oh, yes."
Jason sighed as he wrapped his arm around Leanne's shoulders and watched the sun climb in the sky, proclaiming the birth of a new day.<
br />
It was a day of miracles, he thought, and Leanne's love was the greatest miracle of all.
She had been the sun in his sky since the first night he had seen her emerge from the theater.
Now, standing beside her, with the sunlight on his face and the warmth of her love shining in the depths of her eyes, he knew he would never dwell in darkness again.
Epilogue
Five years later
Jason leaned forward as his daughter made her entrance on stage. Facing the audience, Kristi Lynn began to sing, her voice pure and clear.
His daughter. Another miracle that Leanne had wrought in his life. And soon they would have a second child. And after that, a dozen more, if God and his wife were willing.
"She's wonderful, isn't she?" Leanne whispered.
"Indeed," he said. "She has her mother's talent."
Leanne grinned at him. "And her father's charm."
Jason took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. The last five years had been the happiest he had ever known. He had stood beside Leanne and watched the sun rise over the Grand Canyon, sat beside her on a sandy white beach in Hawaii and watched the waves lap at the shore. He grinned at the memory. He had sat there so long he'd gotten one hell of a sunburn. But even that had felt good.
He had watched Leanne's body swell with new life, stood at her side the morning Kristi Lynn had been born, felt his heart swell with awe when the doctor had placed his daughter in his arms. He had been there when she took her first steps, said her first word; ran alongside her the day she had learned to ride a bike.
He had turned to writing again, surprised and pleased when he sold his first book, a novel about a vampire. He had written three others since then, each of which had received rave reviews. His favorite hung on the wall behind his desk. "Jason Blackthorne's vampires are so real, so vivid, one would think he drew on personal experience."
He applauded loudly when Kristi Lynn finished her song.
After Twilight Page 7
