William by Claire Cray Page B

concern,
hope.
    Hunger.
    I let my bag slide off of my shoulder and
onto the floor so I could unfasten my jacket. I hung it on the hook
without looking away from him. He was staring at me in silence; and
Lord, the house was dark, and his eyes were burning hot as embers.
I drank in the sculpted planes of his face and figure, finding the
shapes of his arms through his fine shirtsleeves, the trim lines of
his body—Christ, the man could wear a waistcoat.
    No, he could not doubt my conviction. He
would not sense a hint of fear in me now.
    Make me a vampire, then, if that was the
price. I’d pay double, triple, a hundred times over. Whatever I had
to do, I would do it, for there was nothing in the world that could
smother the fire Merrick had lit in my heart. What else was I to
feel? He was kind and enlightened. He smelled of cedar and mint. He
knew healing magic and treated the poor and sick. He was handsome
as the devil—and I loved him in every last goddamned intimate sense
of the word.
    And Merrick loved me! This man loved me. What
were the odds of such a union? How was I to turn my back on a
fortune so rare, so intriguing? To Hell with humanity, morality. To
Hell with it all. I crossed the chamber swiftly and embraced him,
hard.
    For months Merrick had held me at a distance.
But now he wrapped his arms around me at once.
    "Merrick," I groaned, sliding one hand into
his hair and letting my lips brush his ear. " I’ve longed for you.
I’ve been sick with it. Let me be with you now."
    Merrick exhaled softly, his hands moving up
my back.
    "Please—"
    "Shhh." Merrick covered my lips with his
thumb, turned my chin, and pressed a kiss to my mouth.
    I wound my arms around his neck, taking it
hungrily. How long? How long since the last kiss? Months! My heart
raced as I held him close, shuddering each time his tongue slid
against mine.
    "William, William," he breathed at last, and
smoothed my hair with a cool hand. His fingertips trailed down the
side of my throat, tracing my vein.
    Somewhere far below my haze of lust, the same
old questions echoed faintly: Would it hurt? Would my heart stop
beating? How long would it take? It didn't matter now—I would find
out.
    Merrick rested his cheek upon mine for a
moment, his fingers still tenderly playing at my throat, and then
he lowered his head and pressed his lips below my ear.
    "Yes," I breathed, closing my eyes. We were
still standing, which I guessed was not ideal, but the matter had
left my hands—and good riddance! I was content to watch all my
doubts and duties float away as I surrendered at last to Fate,
tipping over the edge of no return.
    "William." Merrick lifted his head and
cradled my face, smoothing the pad of his thumb over my cheek as I
gazed up at him in a stupor. His amber eyes had never held more
heat, and he'd never looked at me with such intent. But there was a
calm center in that storm of hunger, and his voice trembled only
slightly when he asked, "Do you want this?"
    I knew now that my answer mattered. The last
time we met, I had been frustrated by his asking if I'd changed my
mind. But now I understood that Merrick was asking me seriously:
Did I still want to be a vampire with him? If I said no, I thought
it very possible that he would kill me. After all this time
thinking it over, if I had decided I could not bear the thought of
life as a vampire, if I could not stomach the killing, if I would
rather die than live without the humanity I was born with, then
perhaps Merrick would give me the choice I’d taken from him.
Perhaps he would grant me the option of death.
    Or perhaps not. What did I know? And what did
he want? I tightened my grip on his waistcoat. What do you want,
Merrick? But he would not say, and I could not guess. I already
knew I would simply have to find out for myself.
    "Yes," I said without guile. "I want it.” And
I thought of Theo, of how fiercely he’d told me to say it until it
was done. “I want to be with you,” I said. “I want you