“Stephen said the only way to hold off stasis—would be to feed.”
“When did he tell you this?” His voice turned angry. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Whatever was inside me moved through my limbs to my fingers and toes, making everything numb and cold. “Doesn’t matter anymore. I wouldn’t do it, anyway. I won’t hurt anyone like that—not again—no matter what.”
“You should have told me anyway, Sam. Damn it.”
He never called me Sam. Always Samantha. More formal—even though I loved how he said my name. “But I can’t feed. I can’t—”
Then, suddenly, his mouth was on mine. I let out a cry of surprise. He kissed me hard and deep, gathering me in his arms so much that he raised me right up off the sofa.
This is what I’d dreamed about—Bishop’s lips on mine as he kissed me with total abandon.
But it wasn’t supposed to be like this.
“Feed,” he whispered. “Come on. Feed on me, Samantha.”
His heart beat fast against my own weakening pulse. I still sensed his soul, I still craved it more than anything else, but there was a wall there, muting it, closing off my access to it—even if I’d wanted to take it. My heart wrenched at the thought of hurting him. But if he’d done this before, I wouldn’t have had any choice. I would have lost control and destroyed him forever.
I had control now. But there was a very good reason.
No, scratch that. A very bad reason.
“It’s too late,” I whispered.
“No.” His voice caught and twisted. “I won’t accept that.”
“I’m dying.”
“No!” He got up and kicked the coffee table, sending it flying across the room and splintering into the wall. Then he fell to my side again, his expression agonized. “Take my soul. Take all of it. I don’t care. I can’t lose you.”
When he crushed his mouth against mine again and kissed me so hard and desperately, my lips felt bruised.
But nothing happened. It was a while before he finally relented.
My voice was strained and barely audible. “Do your job. Take my life. End this. Don’t let me become like Stephen.”
“I’m not giving up on you.”
Tears streaked from the corners of my eyes. The horrible cold pressed in on me on all sides, despite Bishop’s warm touch. Icy fingers sank into me, freezing me from the inside out. “You’ve killed things like me before. Why is this any different?”
“Because you’re different.” He reached down to clutch my hands in his. His brows were drawn tightly together above eyes that blazed bright blue. “You’re better than this. You don’t realize how strong you really are—not yet. You’ve only just started to know what you are. You’re amazing. And you can fight this.” His voice was broken, raw. “I can try to heal you, Sam. Stay with me!”
As he spoke, his voice had grown fainter and fainter. I wanted to reply. I wanted to tell him that I loved him. I didn’t want to leave him. I wanted to be with him, now and forever. Despite everything, despite my fear over his past, despite it being such a short time since we’d met. Despite the secrets and lies...
I loved him.
But there was nothing he could do to save me.
My vision...my world...faded to gray.
Then to black.
Then to white.
And then...uh, blue.
Blue?
Yes. Blue. With fluffy white clouds.
There was something at my back. Something hard. I pressed my hands down to feel hard sand.
Where was I? What just happened?
“Are you going to lie there all day or what?”
I recognized the voice, but it was a moment before I could put a name to it. I pushed myself into a sitting position and looked around to see that I was in the middle of a wasteland, just the one from my dream about Bishop...where he’d kissed me and then killed me.
I swiveled until I saw Seth sitting nearby at a table, looking at me.
“You,” I said, confusion crashing down all around me. “I...uh...what’s going on?”
“You died, that’s what’s going on.”
I slowly got to my feet, turning around in a slow circle to take in the endless desert that stretched out all around me. The sky was the same flat gray I remembered from the last dream. And it was warm—I hadn’t felt this warm outside, or in, since my soul was taken. At least, not unless I was holding Bishop’s hand.
“I’m dreaming right now. But how can I dream if I’m dead?” I whipped back around toward him. He looked different from the last time I saw him. Cleaner. Better groomed.