thing. We talked every night. We laughed a lot. He didn’t try to seduce me. He was very sweet.
Can you show me those memories? Again, he was hesitant to ask.
She wasn’t in the least bit tentative. At once he saw Barnabas seated across a table from Julija. All around them were humans, reading, talking quietly or ordering coffee. Barnabas sat with his gaze fixed on Julija. He was so focused, he didn’t appear to notice anything or any other person in the shop. Twice the waitress tried for his attention but failed. He didn’t look up. Not once.
Isai didn’t think it was contrived. For the first time in his existence, probably, Barnabas had been intrigued by his prey. And Julija had been prey to him. The mage had set the stage and begun the biggest illusion of all and he’d trapped her. Isai could see why. Barnabas was utterly fascinated by her. He enjoyed the conversations they had. She wasn’t trying to impress him. She simply was offering a friendship with no strings. She had no idea she was being groomed by a cruel monster.
Often, you are laughing, but there are times when the conversation turns very serious and you go very still. He does most of the talking and he often touches your hand, almost as if he is reassuring you. What are you discussing?
Sadism and masochism. They were a big part of his class. At first, in class, it was a very intellectual discussion. He said they weren’t even called that anymore by any of the top psychiatrists, but that because we would have a better understanding of the two terms and what they might mean to individuals, he preferred to continue using them.
Here, in the shop, when it was just the two of you, what was he telling you? He clearly is reassuring you about something.
He confessed to me that he was a sadist and that because of that, he was ultimately very lonely. No woman would ever want him for a life partner. I felt terrible for him. I told him I didn’t understand how he could want to hurt someone, how that would arouse him, but that didn’t make me like him any less. In all honesty, I didn’t know how I felt about his admission. Mostly, I think I didn’t fully comprehend what he was saying, that it could be the truth.
Isai allowed the frame to move forward, paying close attention to Barnabas’s expression. He seemed to be totally wrapped up in every word Julija said, her expression. The way she parted her lips, the sweep of her lashes. The man might be the best at illusion, but he couldn’t fake something like that. Not without her feeling it. Julija was too sensitive. She was far more Carpathian than any of them realized—including her.
What did he say?
He thanked me and then said he didn’t know if he was born so flawed or if someone had shaped him into that being. He also said that he could teach others to enjoy pain, to crave it and that in the end they became so devoted to him that they were worthless to him. Again, I said I didn’t really understand. That if he needed to inflict pain, and he found someone who liked pain, then wasn’t that the perfect combination. I was a little shocked when he said no.
Isai could see by her expression that she had been shocked. She’d showed it openly. She’d also looked so compassionate that Barnabas had actually moved closer to her, taking in her sympathy, consuming her energy just as a vampire might take her blood. He’d been devouring her. And she was addictive. Isai knew. Just being in her presence gave those around her an element of whatever they needed. She had some way of providing for others and Barnabas had discovered that well. Sitting there, in that coffee shop, he’d been bathing in her aura.
It was after this particular conversation that you woke up needing sex. He made it a statement. This was the defining moment, he was certain of it. He could see that Barnabas not only wanted to seduce her but was hoping she would be the one he could keep—that she wouldn’t break. She would never crave the pain he needed to give to his lover. No doubt the man went through multiple women, training them to like what he dished out, but Julija had never given in to him. No matter what he’d done to