Free The Knight Of The Rose by A. M. Hudson Page B

perfect combination of caramel skin against a plane of wet white—shining in the
    silvery light. “How can I not savour those l ast few nights?” I melted against hi m again, then, after a
    moment he added, “After all, it will be our last…won’t it?” He turned my face so I looked into his
    shimmering green eyes. “I just need to hear you say it—from your own lips.”
    “You mean…have I decided if I’m coming with you?”
    He nodded. “More if you never will.”
    I knew the answer, but I also knew that if I told him the truth, he’d see fit to just leave now—
    why waste time—so I shook my head, and he groaned.
    “Ara, I’m leaving for two years. I’m not sure wh en I will next come along this way. Please
    stop playing these games with me. Tell me the truth.”
    “That is the truth, David. My mind makes up its mi—well, my mind makes decisions all the
    time—doesn’t mean I agree with them.”
    “Stop it.” He drew a back a little further. “Ara, just say it. Just tell me you’re not coming with
    me.”
    “No. Because that’s not what I’ve decided on.” I folded my arms.
    David stood up and moved away from me. “You must make a decision either way, you know
    that.”
    “Okay, then…ask me on the last day of our two weeks.”
    “That’s the night of the Masquerade.”
    “Then…” I stood up and caref ully touched his elbow until he turned to face me, “ask me on
    the last dance.”
    “The last dance?” He dropped his folded arms and raised a brow. “On the last str oke of
    midnight?”
    I nodded, smiling. “On the last stroke of midnight sounds great.”
    He grabbed me gently by the arm and pulled me unt il my chest fell against his. “I’m sorry I
    yelled at you.”
    “That wasn’t really yelling, David—just a harsh tone.”
    He nodded. “No matter. I shouldn’t speak to you that way, despite how I feel.”
    “I yell at you all the time.”
    He laughed, and I looked up to see his smile. I love that sm ile. “But you’re harmless. When
    you yell, it’s merely amusing.”
    “Thanks. Glad to know you take me so seriously.”
    He drew a breath of concentration and gent ly repositioned his ar ms around my body; the
    silky, wet skin of his forearms made me shift my shoulder blades to feel him against me right where I
    wanted him. “We should go.”
    “No.” I gripped my fi ngers over my wrist and held my arms around his back—making a
    chain of unyielding force. He will not tear me away. Not this time. “We’re staying for a little longer
    today.”
    “Is that so. And...” he lift ed my chin; I held fast, refusing to even look at him. He gave in.
    “What exactly are you going to do if I decide to force you?”
    “You won’t.”

    “Hm, you’re so sure of yourself,” he said, but I heard the smile in his tone, and the fact that
    he did nothing else except wrap his fingertips in th e base of my hair and hold me, proved that I was
    right. My bones turned to rubber inside my flesh, loving the closeness of skin on skin—with my
    vampire—and though the summer rain continued, I felt only warmth.
    It was like we didn’t care about the thi ngs that others would run from, because we knew a
    pain much worse than rain on cold skin.
    We let it come, let it fall around us and chill us to the bone—it mattered none, for in that
    moment, we existed in a world a mil lion miles away from anything that could change. We both
    knew, deep down inside, that the eternity of pai n David must face alone would come, but we would
    not let that fear tear us apart.
    His blood had fl ooded me with warmth—like a powerful drug—and mine had fil led his
    veins—giving him life, fuelling his movements.
    Right now, with the awareness of our final two weeks resting on the backdrop of the moment,
    we both pretended there was still hope out there, while secretly, inside, I was praying for it.
    But I could not feel the fear—feel the weight of the truth that one day he’d be gone, and