Kiss Me Forever/Love Me Forever. Rosemary Laurey

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “For what? For bringing him here? It’s what he wanted. Do something, can’t you? He called you his friend.” Dixie yelled. She hadn’t done all this to be griped at.

      “Who are you?” The voice cut like a knife across the night as he strode towards the house, carrying Christopher as lightly as a plate of cookies.

      “I’m Dixie LePage.”

      “Oh.” He carried Christopher through the garden door. Taking that as an invitation, Dixie followed.

      Christopher looked worse in the light. The color he’d gained earlier faded. He’d gone past pale to a green-gray color that suggested morgues and cold slabs. Her heart clenched cold in her chest. “Is he dying?” she asked Tom’s fast-moving back.

      “He’s been dead four hundred years,” he snapped without turning his head.

      That did it! Half leaping, she caught up with him and grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and walked across the room beside him. “You know exactly what I mean, smart-ass! He said you’d help him!”

      The man stopped mid-stride and turned a pair of onyx-hard eyes on her. Tears welled up behind her lashes. She forced them back. She wasn’t crying in front of this bastard. Why had she ever come? If he did anything to Christopher, she’d clobber him. “He’s safe with me. I’d as soon harm myself,” he said, his voice strangely gentle, “but it may be too late.”

      “No!” The word screamed like a tempest in her brain. “He said he’d be safe if I got him here.”

      “Safe is not the same as sentient. You brought him here. I thank you for that. You’d best leave.”

      “No way, José! How do I know he’s really safe with you?” She parked both hands on her hips, standing square in front of him to block his way. He never spoke. Just looked as if searching her soul. The burr of traffic and the scent of some night plant outside the open door hovered in the background as they fought for Christopher.

      “You wouldn’t have brought him if you really doubted.” He angled his head to the open French windows. “I’m taking him upstairs. There’s nowhere down here to lay him.” She couldn’t argue that one. Wall to ceiling bookshelves, a massive antique desk, a computer, and a pair of swivel chairs were the only furnishings. “Shut the door. I don’t want the house full of mosquitoes or moths.”

      “He’s dying and you’re worried about mosquitoes?”

      “And neighbors who might summon the law if you keep shrieking.”

      Was she shrieking? Probably. It was a wonder she wasn’t screaming the house down. She took a deep breath. Before she exhaled, he spoke again, “Shut it, Miss LePage. Do you want me to waste energy that might save Kit?”

      There was only one answer to that. But by the time she turned back from shoving the last bolt home, he’d disappeared. He wasn’t getting away. She ran through the open door and up a wide, curving staircase. She ignored the three closed doors. In the fourth room, Tom bent over Christopher, two black shapes so close they seemed one through the blur of her tears.

      Tom turned as Dixie approached. “Wait outside a couple of minutes. I’m getting him in bed.”

      “I’m staying.” She closed the distance between them. Christopher looked worse, if it was possible. Moisture beaded on his face and neck. Sweat? “What’s happening?”

      Tom didn’t even look up. “His life essence is evaporating. It won’t be long now. He’ll be gone before dawn.”

      Choking back tears, Dixie grabbed Christopher’s shoulders; they felt like bits of chicken. Dead and lifeless. “Christopher, don’t. Not after everything!”

      His eye opened, like the shutter of a camera without film. “Dixie, thanks.” He never spoke, but she heard him clear as bird song.

      Her hands were shaking as Tom lifted them away. She half-noticed his fingers were bent and twisted. “Go outside a minute. Let me get him ready. I won’t be long.”

      Dixie wanted to laugh. Or scream. It hardly mattered. “It’s a bit late for modesty. I think I’ve seen everything.” He just looked at her. She was tempted to scratch out those piercing eyes. “I found him. Naked. And got him out of the sun. I also yanked the knife blade out, among other things…”

      “What blade?” His hand grabbed her wrist until it hurt. His hands might be deformed but his strength was—like Christopher’s used to be.

      “The one someone stuck in his ribs. And don’t ask me who put it there. He didn’t say.”

      “Where?” He pulled the sweatshirt from Christopher’s waist.

      “On the side, roll him over.” He did that as easily as turning a page. Dixie pushed up the sweatshirt and stared. Now there was just a small knot and a shadow like a fading bruise. “There was a wound. A great gaping one. I didn’t dream it. I swear.”

      His awkward fingers smoothed Christopher’s side. “I believe you.”

      “What happened?”

      “He healed and used up his last strength.” If she opened her mouth, she’d bawl. Tom didn’t comment as she helped pull the sweatshirt over Christopher’s head and the pants down off his cold feet. If he had, she’d have swiped him, vampire or not. They pulled the covers up to his chin, the crisp-ironed linen making Christopher’s face appear even grayer. Tom turned to her, his eyes softened. “There’s a bed in the next room. This is your time to sleep. I’ll watch and call you when the time comes.”

      “I’m not leaving him.” To demonstrate the point, she sat down hard on the edge of the mattress. The bed sagged as he perched on the opposite side.

      “It won’t take long, he’s fading fast.” The choke in his voice made her turn. She wasn’t the only one heartbroken. “Tell me what happened.”

      She condensed the wildest day of her life into half a dozen short sentences. “I thought bringing him here would save him,” she spat out the words with anger and frustration.

      “You did save him—from slow death by torture. Wouldn’t you rather pass away surrounded by friends than scorched slowly by the rising sun?”

      She shuddered hot and cold at the idea. “I thought vampires were supposed to be immortal.”

      “Didn’t Kit answer that one?”

      “We never got the chance to talk about it.”

      He shook his head, as if to shake away tears. “No, I suppose not. It’s quite simple. We’re beyond life and death, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be extinguished. If someone’s determined and knows the way…With Kit, they took no chances: sunlight and an incision.”

      “But I took out the knife, and he slept all day in the dark. Why didn’t that cure him?” She’d given up trying to hold back her tears.

      “He was already weakened when they took him.”

      “How?” Shaking fingers tried to dry her cheeks but tears came as if her heart were draining. Maybe СКАЧАТЬ