Page 84 of Kiss of Light

He’s in love with her.

Shade looked at Lemar thoughtfully.

“Stay as long as you want. My head servant Pasha will be outside the door at all times. Ask for anything you need.”

Lemar inclined his head. He met Raya’s eyes.

“Thank you.”

“Good luck. I hope she comes back to you.”

Raya took Shade’s hand and they left the room, closing the door behind them.

Thirty Five

He lay next to her on the bed. Her skin was cold and clammy, and he cursed his useless vampire body for not being able to warm her. He pulled her boots off, hesitated, then pulled her jeans off too.

The ankh marking stood out vividly against the paleness of her skin. A shaitun symbol. A sign of immortal life. He brushed it with his fingers, hoping it had some power over whatever darkness was swallowing her. She didn’t move a muscle as he tucked blankets all around her body.

Then he lay on the bed next to her and spoke softly to her all night.

He spoke of inconsequential things, things he thought she might find interesting. How Vetali aged rapidly until their twenties, then didn’t age at all for the next ten centuries. How the signs of maturity only began again in their thousandth year.

He described Palissandra and how the light there didn’t incinerate his kind. Magical light, created for them by some of Nush’aldaam’s greatest sorcerers. He described his childhood and what it had been like growing up as the sole heir to the kingdom of vampires.

He also spoke of things he’d never told anyone. The memories of his mother when he was young. How she’d brought light and joy to every room she entered. How his father had been a different person while she’d been alive. How her death had extracted every last ounce of happiness from Prince Vassago’s heart, leaving him eternally distant from his son.

He talked until the sun came up and he could no longer fight the tiredness that rolled over him. She hadn’t moved a muscle. He kissed her softly and tucked her close into his chest, hoping she would be awake by the time the sun set.

But she wasn’t.

She lay exactly as before. She hadn’t stirred, not even to change position in her sleep. He watched her breathing for a while, counting the shallow lifts and falls of her chest. Her breaths were perhaps a little more regular than before. And surely her heartbeat was a touch stronger? Or was he just trying to fool himself?

Again he talked to her. Stupid stories and anecdotes, tales from his youth, adventures in New York, random stuff that might have made her smile.

He would give anything to see her smile again.

He spent a couple of hours walking around the room with her cradled in his arms, hoping the motion would wake her. But nothing roused her. She remained motionless, her limbs as loose as a ragdoll. Only the slow, irregular beat of her heart kept him from being overwhelmed by dread.

Defeated, he laid her back down on the bed and gently wiped her face and neck with a damp cloth, cleaning the remnants of the blood and dirt that clung to her skin.

In the early hours of the morning there was a knock at the door. He opened it warily, expecting to see Lord Shadeed demanding to know what was happening with Tala.

Instead, Raya offered him a tray.

“Rare steak. Wine. Water. I thought you might need a break.”

“You brought this yourself?” He took the silver platter from her. “But you’re the lady of this castle. Surely you have servants who could do this?”

She gave a small smile.

“I wanted to check on you. Make sure you were okay. Tala?”

“No change.”

“But no worse?”

“No, thankfully. No worse.”

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