Page 25 of His Virgin Vessel

If this conversation was becoming a little battle, scoring points off each other, then that was a point to Asa. Of course my dad hadn't done any of those things. He had paid for art supplies and classes, and he had dutifully 'appreciated' every painting I brought home as I strove to get better. He'd done everything a good parent was supposed to do, except wanting me to pursue it. I guess he worried.

"I know he loves me," I said, awkwardly. "But he loves me so much that he wants what's best for me all the time. And to him, 'best' means what he wants, what he thinks will make me safe and give me a good solid career. It's love that feels like a constant pressure pushing down on me. Do you have any idea what that's like?"

Asa shook his head. "No. I really don't. Sounds awful."

Something about the tone of his voice told me that in a 'who had the worst childhood competition,' I would lose.

"I love art." It was strange how easy it was talking to him. "But it was also my little act of rebellion. My chance to be something other than what Dad wanted. To be imperfect. So I ran off to the city to find my path. That's where it all went to hell. Repeatedly."

Asa absorbed this. "Let me take a guess: you met a lot of artistic rebels there, and you wanted to fit in with them. But you didn't. Because they really wanted to rebel (because that's something those pretentious assholes think matters), while you just wanted to be accepted as less than perfect."

That was irritatingly near to the truth. If I'd thrown myself into the scene—the wild parties, the all night drinking, the mind-expanding drugs and uninhibited sex— then I would have had people around me to help when things went wrong. But I didn't want that stuff, and so when I had nowhere to live, I had no friends to turn to.

"I'm very bad at being a rebel," I admitted.

"Then be yourself," Asa reiterated.

"I told you ..."

"You don't know who you are," nodded Asa. "Okay, try this: Think of one thing that has made you feel like yourself. One thing you've done that is totally Corinne. Build from that. One thing. Name it."

"Loving you." I said it without thinking but it was absolutely true. Loving Asa was the only thing that felt real and right. Being with him was the only time I had felt like myself, even when I had been pretending to be someone else.

Asa accepted this with an unreadable expression. "Well," he said finally. "I guess it's a starting point."

"Sorry." I didn't know why I said it, but it seemed the thing to say.

Asa shook his head. "Don't be. I mean ..." He shook his head in frustration. "Dammit, if things were different—if your father wasn't trying to arrest me, if I wasn't ten different kinds of bad for you— maybe ..." He trailed off as he looked into my openly hopeful face. "You're like nothing I ever look for in a woman, and everything I wanted and never knew."

Like a lot of girls who struggle with men and relationships and sex, I read a lot of romance novels, but I had never heard or read or imagined anything more romantic than that.

"We could still make it work," I breathed, desperate to believe it. "I wanted to go back to the city anyway. If we went together, we could ..."

"You don't just walk away from War Cry," said Asa grimly, cutting me off. "And if they didn't follow me, then there are others who would. I've made enemies, and some of them wouldn't hesitate to target my loved ones. Which is one reason I don't have loved ones."

"But ..."

"No buts."

"We could start fresh."

This time he seemed to consider it, and I thoughtI could see in his eyes a dream of what might have been, if only his life had gone differently. But in the end he shook his head.

"It's not just what I've done, Corinne. It's who I am. And you can't do the things I've done without becoming something very dark indeed. You're a good girl, try as you might to otherwise be. Pretending to be something you're not changes nothing. I'm a bad man. I could trade my leathers for a suit and tie, but sooner or later that stuff is going to come out, and I don't want you around when it does."

"I don't care!" I implored him.

"And that's what makes it worse. You'd let me drag you down to my level. And I won't let that happen. If I can do one good thing in my life then it'll be to keep you out of it." He stood. "This whole thing was a bad idea. I should have known better."

"Well, I'm still glad we did it," I said, still the quiet little rebel.

He gave me a half-smile. "I am too. But tonight is it."

I stood up to face him. "Then we'd better make it count."

I kissed him.

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