strangely peaceful after the last few days, a quiet, dimly lit oasis where the outside world couldn’t intrude.
We needed to talk, and I fully intended to. But I was willing to postpone it for a few moments. This was nice.
Louis-Cesare’s hair had gotten a bit windblown on the ride over, so I undid the clasp at his neck and ran my fingers through it because I didn’t have a comb. It was the only drawback to having your purse turned into an armory: you no longer had a purse. I had pockets on the outside, but they were usually stuffed with weapons, too. It was a dilemma . . .
“I don’t want you here,” Louis-Cesare said abruptly.
My fingers stilled. “That . . . was not what I expected you to say.”
“But it is the truth.” He looked up at me, and the sapphire eyes were sober. “I want to be the knight in the fairy tales, defending his lady. I want, with all of my being, to know that you are safe, and that whatever happens to me, you will remain so. When I saw you there, in that alley, when I realized that Jonathan had hurt you, and that he’d been able to do so because of me—”
“It wasn’t because of you. You heard Hassani; the fey were everywhere that night. If I hadn’t followed you, they’d have gotten me somewhere else—”
“Perhaps; perhaps not. But then to see you in that temple, and to know that your pain was my fault, that I had failed you once again—”
“You didn’t fail me,” I said, getting exasperated. So much for the warm, cozy feeling of a moment ago. “That had nothing to do with you—”
“But it did! I should have been there! Even after I saw that Jonathan hurt you, that he had targeted you, I gave him the opportunity to do it again—”
“You gave him nothing. I chose to go down there. It was my decision—”
“But if I had been there—”
I got up suddenly, because I couldn’t think straight with auburn silk cascading over my legs. And because I needed to move. Louis-Cesare followed me with his eyes, and there was no question in them. He believed, absolutely, in what he was saying.
“You know it’s true,” he said, echoing my thoughts.
“What I know is that you’re acting like a master vamp who let down one of his family.”
“Is that not what I am?”
“No.” Damn it, I knew it. “I’m your family in that Radu is my uncle and he’s your sire. But I’m with you because I choose to be. I chose you; I marked you because I see you as an equal. I always have. But I wouldn’t have done that if I’d had any idea that you see me as an inferior—”
“I do nothing of the kind!”
“—who needs protection because she can’t handle herself!”
“I want to protect you because I love you!”
“I believe that,” I said, working to rein in my temper. Because he had to get this. I had to be able to explain this, or we were through. I loved him—so much—but I wasn’t going to live like this. I wasn’t going to be the little woman to be cherished and lied to and protected, while her man went out to face the world’s terrors alone—
And didn’t come back.
That wasn’t who I was; wasn’t who I could be, even if I’d wanted to. Dhampirs ran on adrenaline and anger and action, needing combat as much as they needed air. Yes, I got beat up sometimes, even a lot of the time, but I came through it; I always had. And even if, someday, I didn’t, I’d rather die fighting by my husband’s side that sitting at home, wringing my hands, and waiting for news that would kill me anyway.
Not to mention the fact that we were at war. Did he really think I’d be that much safer back home? There was no safety anymore, except for what we provided each other.
I just wished I knew the words to get him to see that.
I walked back over and knelt beside him. I took his hands in mine, stupidly huge things that they were, because this was a last-ditch effort so I might as well go for broke. “I believe that,” I told him again. “But I also believe that you see me as someone who you give information to when you feel like it, who you protect whether she likes it or not, and who you make