me here. But I've been wracking my brain for six months and I haven't been able to come up with any truly viable explanations as to why a vampire who's been around nearly three centuries needs an assistant. You can hypnotize people—"
"Only those with weak minds."
"You can cause a freeze that makes liquid nitrogen look wimpy."
"Thank you."
"You can make yourself invisible—"
"Not invisible, just intensely uninteresting."
"You run like you're strapped to a rocket. Your hearing's remarkable. You're stronger than Paul Bunyan… am I leaving anything out?"
His eyebrow rose ever so slightly, but I was so attuned to him I knew he was making a wry face. "Is that not enough?"
"Why me?"
He waited awhile to answer, shaking his head slightly every once in awhile as if he was trying out reasons and discarding them one by one. Finally he said, "After what happened to you November last, most people would have just curled up and died." I stared at him, ready to walk if he even brushed against the heart of my pain. "You did not. You survived, but with Gifts that have only just begun to surface. I felt you needed help to develop these Gifts. And since I needed an avhar—"
"What's that?"
"A partner, just like you."
"And?"
"You are right, there is more. I must ask you to be patient. When the time is right, we will both know."
Nuts
. "Okay," I grumbled. I suddenly wanted my cards. I took them off the bedside table, and as I did my eyes strayed to the clock. "It's almost time," I said. "Do you need me to help you set up the tent?"
Vayl has never slept in a coffin. Now that I knew he was phobic, I suspected lying in one probably gave him the heebie jeebies. I don't know what his sleeping arrangements are when we're home. Hell, I don't even know where his home is. But when we travel he brings a custom-made tent that covers his entire bed. The material is impermeable to light, so if someone was to accidentally open a curtain or something, he won't singe. I'd love to have one myself, just because the kid in me thinks it would be a real hoot, like camping out only without the bugs.
Vayl's fingers slipped into my hair. The pins began to fall out and he combed each bit as it loosened. I closed my eyes and leaned my cheek against his thigh, totally lost to the sensation. It felt great, soothing. It shouldn't have. Why wasn't I backing Vayl off?
I opened my eyes and looked up at him, catching my breath at his expression. Passion lit his eyes with an intense green flame. I could not look away, not even as he lowered his face to mine very slowly and deliberately. At the last second I turned away, the feeling of his lips against my cheek making me gasp.
"So tired," I murmured, though I'd never been more aware.
Can't do this, Jaz. It's wrong. It's bad. It's
…
"Sleep then," he whispered, his lips so close to my ear I felt his words tickle my eardrum. I felt him slip the cards from my hand and heard him put them back on the table.
"Okay." I snuggled under the blanket he draped over me and promised myself that tomorrow, as soon as darkness fell, I would definitely put Vayl in his place.
----
Chapter Six
You know how sometimes real sounds can invade your dreams? Like one time, I was napping on the couch and dreamed I was interviewing Steven Tyler. Then I woke up and there he was on MTV talking to some bimbette who asked such stupid questions I was glad to wake up and find it wasn't me.
Now I dreamed that Vayl and I were discussing the mission. I said, "So what do you think this virus does?" And Vayl answered by making a strange trilling noise, like he had a cricket stuck in his throat.
"How do you think it gets transferred?" I asked.
"Trrrill."
"And what's the deal with this vampire/terrorist connection anyway? The Sons of Paradise hate supernatural stuff, and vampires are just seething with it. So why ally with them, especially if you have your own cadre of mad scientists?"
"Trrill."
"Vayl, it's so weird, you sound just like