Dark Melody Page 0,7
was of another species? That he had been on earth a thousand years? That he needed blood to survive?
Dayan watched her fingers turn that small gold band. With every touch, every stroke, his stomach knotted tighter and tighter. He tried to force his gaze back to her face, but that small betraying movement fascinated him.
Corinne shrugged her shoulders. "To make a long story short, John and I were married and he was murdered a few months ago. I didn't even know I was pregnant. I haven't said anything to Lisa because... well..." She hesitated, searching for the right words.
That brought his dark gaze back to her face. She felt the impact of his focused stare all the way to her bones. His hands covered hers, stilling the nervous play of her fingers over her ring. Her heart leapt, a curious sensation that alarmed her.
His black eyes never left her face. Not once. And he still hadn't blinked. She felt almost as if she were falling forward into those strange, hypnotic eyes. What difference did it make if he thought she was a basket case? She hadn't asked for his sympathy, nor did she want it. She wasn't telling him the story for sympathy. Why was she telling him her story? Her chin lifted and she looked at him almost defiantly. "I have a heart condition." He could run like a rabbit and she'd be very happy. He was a complication, a fantasy, the worst sort of "bad boy," and she wanted no part of him.
Dayan touched her mind very gently. He caught an image of hospitals, machines, endless tests. Her asking about a waiting list for a heart. Doctor after doctor shaking their heads. She had severe allergies. She bled easily, too much. The specialists were amazed she had lived as long as she had. Dayan rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully, his eyes intent on her face. "So the baby is a danger, then. Lisa would not like that."
Corinne let out her breath. It was almost a relief to tell someone. "No, Lisa won't like it all. She'll be so frightened." Corinne had waited until there was no possibility Lisa might try to talk her out of having the baby. She wanted a baby. Her little girl. Long after her death, after John's death, their daughter would live and breathe, run and play, and hopefully lead a perfectly normal life. Corinne had absolute faith that Lisa would cherish and love the baby. She pulled her hands away from his to place them protectively over the small mound where the baby rested.
"You are very small. How far along are you?" Even as the words left his mouth, he marveled that he could say them. In all his imaginings, he had never thought to be asking such a question. Heat blossomed and spread. A sense of belonging. Strangely, he felt as if he had a family already.
"The doctors are a little worried about that, but she looks good. She's growing fine. They've told me it's a girl. I'm six months along."
His breath hitched in concern. She was tiny. "Are the doctors concerned about your heart problem also? Do they view this pregnancy as risky? Perhaps very dangerous?" His voice was still as gentle as ever, yet it had an effect on her she couldn't seem to shake. He sounded almost as if he were reprimanding her in some way and assessing what he was going to do about the situation.
Corinne felt compelled to answer him, although it wasn't what she wanted. "My heart has enough trouble working for just me, let alone a child too," she conceded reluctantly. Her fingers once again found the circle of gold and began to twist, a nervous habit betraying her inner turmoil.
Dayan nodded his head even as his entire body knotted in protest against that small action. "And your husband - " He forced the words out despite the fact they wanted to stick in his throat. "Why was he murdered?" He couldn't help himself, he reached out and caught her hand, pulling her palm to his chest, right over his heart, effectively stopping her from touching the ring again.
Corinne's gaze flew to his. Electricity arced between them. The air sizzled with the charge. She found it difficult to think with his black eyes mesmerizing her and his touch scattering her senses. Discussing the murder of her husband with him should have been impossible, yet she found the words tumbling out. "The