Page 118 of Sinner's Sacrifice

Yvgeny sighed. “I will try to explain, but it’s a very long story, and parts of it are...horrible.”

He sat on the narrow bed with her, then pulled her so she was sitting across his lap. “I’m sorry, I just...need to have you in my arms.”

She snuggled into him, sliding her arms around his waist. “I’m not complaining.”

He grunted. “The medical staff would like us to wait until we’ve landed and we’re settled before I start explaining.”

“Why?” As soon as the word was out of her mouth, she knew the answer. “They’re afraid I’m going to freak out?”

“Yes.”

“Because you’re a vampire.”

“Yes.”

She considered the situation. “How did you, all of you, get this way? Is it because of magic?”

He laughed. “No, there’s a perfectly scientific explanation.”

“Well, that’s reassuring. I would have had a hard time believing in magic, despite the fact that you’re alive when you shouldn’t be.”

He didn’t say anything for the longest time, simply sat there, rubbing his hand in circles on her back.

“Just tell me, Yvgeny. Give me the elevator pitch.”

He snorted. “You never cease to amaze me. Okay, here goes.” He tightened his hold on her before he started speaking as if expecting her to try to escape him.

“I and several members of my family have an auto-immune disorder triggered by the exposure to a very specific disease.”

“You have something like arthritis?”

“Nothing so pedestrian. Instead of my immune system attacking itself, it repairs itself. Continuously.”

“I don’t understand. How does that work?”

“My body hasn’t aged since the disorder was triggered when I turned twenty. If I’m harmed, I heal rapidly. I can survive most injuries, though if I lost my head, I’d die and stay dead. No disease can affect me. I’m stronger and faster than someone without my disorder. There are some drawbacks. I lost the ability to sleep. I’m allergic to sunlight, and I can no longer process food to provide nutrition.”

She put her hand on his chest. “That does sound very vampiric?”

He sighed. “We don’t like that term. It’s derogatory. We’re still people.”

“How old are you?”

“Old.”

“Yvgeny, just tell me.”

“About eight-hundred years.”

“Wow, that’s...” She leaned back so she could meet his gaze. “No wonder you’re so old-fashioned.”

“You’re taking this extremely well.”

Her hand clenched on him. “I’m terrified you’re not real at all,” she whispered. “I’m so scared I’ll wake up and you’ll still be dead, and I’m stuck somewhere with Benson, convinced I’m like you. Or some other situation I can’t get out of.”

His arms tightened on her and he bent over to whisper in her ear, “I’m never leaving you again.”

Oh, how she missed his arrogant pronouncements. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Yvgeny.”

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