and housetops, shimmering with moisture. And all around him, he could hear the sounds of Christmas carols and laughter as families gathered together to celebrate the most joyous day of the year.
He walked for miles, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his face turned to the wind. She sensed his loneliness, his separation from the rest of the world. She felt his hunger, saw him pause outside an all-night drugstore, his nostrils flaring as he came upon an old man huddled in the doorway. She felt the hunger clawing at him, urging him to take what he needed, to satisfy his thirst. She felt his hesitation, and then, with a muttered oath, he passed the old man by, and she knew it was because it was Christmas, because the old man was on his way home to his invalid wife.
And then she saw him in the house he had bought, and she knew he had bought it because of her, that he had hoped she would share it with him.
She saw him walking through the dark, empty rooms, heard his voice whisper that he needed her, that his life had lost all hope, all meaning.
And then she saw him standing outside again, his head thrown back, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. He spoke her name, and then, riding on the wings of the wind, she heard the melancholy wail of a wolf...
She awoke with a start, her heart pounding as she glanced around the darkened room. "Grigori?" But of course he wasn't here. He was back in L.A.
She lifted a hand to her cheek, surprised to find it damp with tears.
"Why do you weep, Marisa?"
She should have been frightened, or, at the very least, surprised. Instead, the soft, husky sound of his voice sent a warm glow pulsing through her. "Don't you know?"
"I'm trying not to read your mind, since it upsets you so."
"I was dreaming." She wrapped her arms around her waist and looked up at him. He stood beside the sofa. Wrapped in a flowing black cloak, he looked tall and dark and dangerous. The light from the fire haloed his hair. "But you know that, don't you?"
He shook his head. "No. What was it about?"
"It doesn't matter. What are you doing here?"
"What do you think?"
Her heart began to pound. Her mouth went dry. "I - " She swallowed. "I don't know."
He knelt beside her, the cloak settling around him like a pool of black ink.
"I missed you," he said quietly. "I came to see if maybe you had missed me, too." His gaze found and held hers. "Did you?"
She couldn't lie to him, not when he was looking at her like that. She could feel his loneliness as if it were her own. It made her feel powerful and humble at the same time, to think that he had come here. It was frightening, to know she had the ability to hurt him, to shatter his pride and wound his ego.
She looked at him and reminded herself that he was a vampire, but all she saw was a faint ray of hope in a pair of deep black eyes.
She looked at him and tried to see a monster, but all she saw was a man who had been alone too long, a man who needed her.
"Did you think of me at all while you were here?"
"Yes." She had thought of him constantly. At church on Christmas Eve, she had wished he could be there beside her. All day today, she had thought of him, lost in the dark sleep, alone, while the rest of the world celebrated the wondrous birth of the savior of the world.
"You missed me then?"
She nodded. "Yes. I didn't want to, but I couldn't help it."
The hope in his eyes burned brighter, its heat enveloping her. "Marisa."
"Merry Christmas, Grigori," she whispered, and held out her arms.
He could only stare at her, momentarily stunned by the love he read in her eyes, and then, with a cry, he drew her down into his lap and wrapped his arms around her.
"Marisa... Marisa..." He buried his face in the silky cloud of her hair and held her tight.
She clung to him, feeling the tremors that shook his body as he whispered her name over and over again.
"Aren't you going to kiss me?"
He drew back a little, a faint smile curving his lips. "As often and as long as you wish."
Happiness bubbled up inside her like champagne. "I wish," she