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“Nothing. Except maybe knowing you’ve done a good deed. You told me you were a hero. Do something heroic.”
He walked to the fire and sat. “You’re thinking Christian hero, dove. And I’m not a Christian.”
A cold breeze wrinkled the lake. I hugged myself. I wanted to ask him about Julie and about other things, but information from him couldn’t be trusted. Get the blood, get out. “Just out of curiosity, what is it about me that makes you think I’m dovelike?”
“I bet you coo in bed.” His black eyes shone, reflecting the flames of the fire. “Come sit next to me.”
“No funny business?”
“I make no promises.”
What choice did I have? I came and sat next to him, basking in the warmth of the fire.
He lay back, his head resting on his arm bent at the elbow. He was muscled like a martial artist or a soldier accustomed to running: lean and hard. And he smelled…he smelled like a man, the way young fit men sometimes smell of sweat and locker room and sun.
Somewhere far an owl hooted and her cry lingered over the pitch-black water. “What is this place?”
“Morrigan’s refuge. It’s her home.”
“She’s here?”
He nodded. “Just not watching at the moment. She sleeps.”
“Does Morrigan ever come down to Earth?”
“Why won’t you sleep with me? Afraid of your Rambo boyfriend?”
“Rambo is a character in a story. Not real. You didn’t answer my question.”
He put his arm around me. “Kiss me and I promise I’ll talk.”
I took his arm off of me. “I don’t think so. That would be a slippery slope.”
His hand stroked my arm. “Ahhh, so you want me?”
“Maybe a little bit.”
He smiled.
“I’m still not sleeping with you.”
“Why not?”
I thought of Saiman dancing in the snow. “I have a friend who can change his shape. Imagine any body and he can transform into it. He’s invited me into his bed.”