Free Incarnation by Emma Cornwall Page B

moment, I had not realized how much I missed such simple human contact. Surely that, rather than any quality unique to the man himself, explained the deep, undulating pleasure that rippled through me.
    “Your skin is cool,” he remarked. I drew some satisfaction from the fact that his voice was not as steady as he no doubt wished. Imperturbable though he might look, Marco was not immune to the unexpected attraction between us.
    “You are not breathing,” he continued after a moment, “and if I move my fingers down just the slightest degree to the vicinity of your carotid artery, I dare say I will find no pulse. And yet—”
    Abruptly, I regained control of myself. “And yet what?” I demanded, jerking away from him. More than his effrontery at touching me, I was alarmed by my own reaction. Pleasure still strummed within me, a siren song I was determined to resist.
    “I am all too well aware of my state; you do not need to inform me of it.”
    He looked at me curiously. “Are you? Unless I am very much mistaken, you do not seem to have embraced it fully.”
    I remembered the supplicants vying to be fed upon for thechance of receiving what had been given to me through no effort of my own. They both horrified and fascinated me.
    “I did not ask for this existence . . . whatever this is. I am neither alive nor dead. I am trapped somewhere in between.”
    He nodded thoughtfully. “So you appear. No longer human, yet perhaps not entirely vampire. That would explain why you can tolerate exposure to the sun. And why those two last night didn’t recognize you as one of them.”
    The thought that some human part of myself might still survive was more than I dared to hope. Before I could stop myself, I asked, “Do you really think that it is possible to be both human and vampire?”
    “I would not have thought so . . . until now. I have never known vampires to exhibit lingering human traits or spare a moment’s thought for their lost humanity. To the contrary, they delight in being rid of it.”
    “Is that so?” I could not hide my skepticism. My transformation engendered many emotions—shock, disbelief, curiosity, a certain animalistic exhilaration—but delight was yet to be among them.
    “How could it not be?” Marco countered. “You are endowed with powers no mortal possesses. Your strength and speed are without equal. Your senses are stronger by far, allowing you to experience the world in a way no human ever will. You need never know illness and you need never age. Do all these attributes of your kind count for nothing with you?”
    “The price is very high, some might even say that it is too high,” I reminded him. When he appeared unconvinced of my regrets, I continued, “Right now, I can smell your blood. The scent is tantalizing . . . enrapturing. I have been tormented by hunger because I have refused to feed on humans, as Iperversely yearn to do. But I have no idea how much longer I will be capable of such restraint.”
    My gaze drifted to the portion of his throat visible above his high collar, there where the life force pulsed. I swayed a little toward him. “Do you have any notion of how easily I could—”
    Far from appearing concerned by my desires, Marco seemed much more interested in my unwillingness to act upon them. “You do not feed on humans?”
    “The notion repels me, yet I yearn to do so.”
    As I spoke, my gaze was drawn to the glowing red pendant on his chest. Why did he wear it? How had he come by it? Did it play a part in his ability to confront vampires without fear?
    I felt no danger in his presence, but perhaps that was due to my own ignorance, which I had to acknowledge was considerable. Apart from what I had gleaned from the mishmash of Mr. Stoker’s lamentable novel and my brief contact with the vampires of the Bagatelle, I knew nothing of my own kind. By contrast, I remembered enough of what it had meant to be human to be keenly aware of all that I had