“Who you are means more to me than what you are,” I said, knowing I was in no place to point the finger. I had my secrets, too.
His eyes burned into mine. He caressed my cheek with the back of his fingers and slid his hand down my arm to my hand. Goose bumps rushed over my skin and my heart quickened as our faces inched closer together, his breath feathering against my cheek. All those times before we’d been this close I hadn’t been sure what I wanted to happen, but now I had no doubts.
He lifted a hand and trailed his thumb over my bottom lip. His gaze lowered to my mouth and then he tilted his forehead against mine, locked his eyes on mine, and lowered his voice. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to kiss you.”
In the limited light, through the shadows frozen between our faces, I could make out the lines of his face and the brightness of his eyes. I wished he would kiss me. Wished to drum up the nerve and kiss him myself.
Charles closed his eyes and bent his head closer to mine. My eyes closed, too, and the world was silence and we existed in the darkness behind our eyelids. A breeze slipped between us, and, for a moment, I thought possibly his lips had brushed mine.
He pulled away, eyes full of regret. “I may never be able to give you what you want. It’s better for you if I don’t…if I—. Sophia, even if I wanted to grow old with you, I could not.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered, but I wasn’t sure what ‘okay’ meant. The one hope I’d had of a future between us being possible had just been torn away.
“Can you understand why I didn’t tell you?” he asked. “If they knew I was the Strigoi who had helped you at Club Flesh, they’d realize I wasn’t pure. That would have ended badly for us both.”
I cringed at the word ‘pure’. Now I understood why he’d feared being followed when we’d met at the club. Did he live his whole life this way, always questioning the intentions of anyone who crossed his path? Always wondering if someone was ‘onto’ him?
“I would never say anything,” I told him, giving him a long look to impart the sincerity of my promise.
“You might not have to.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked into the distance. “How did you say you found this place?”
“A book my mentor gave me had the address. And some code: LC 47.”
“Local Coterie 47,” he said, returning his gaze to mine. “Every Cruor coterie has a number. What book was it?”
“Maltorim records for the Salem witch trials.”
“Sounds like one of Adrian’s books.”
One of Adrian’s books? It made sense, I guess. Perhaps Ivory had borrowed it and accidentally left it at Sparrow’s Grotto. Paloma probably thought it had shown up out of nowhere.
“So what are we going to do about the Maltorim?” I asked.
Charles frowned. “They must be aware something’s up. That a Strigoi saved you and now you’re with me. If they put it all together…” He shook his head. “We can’t risk drawing more attention to ourselves. Marcus’ interest in you was bad enough. Now he’s finally back in Damascus, and you’ve got Thalia’s attention instead.”
“Do we need to leave?” Was anywhere safe?
“No one would make a move without being sure. I don’t think they’re even considering it, not yet, and they have no knowledge of where I live. If needed, though, my parents have a place in the Japanese mountains where we could stay—one of the few locations left in which the Maltorim has no real presence. We would just have to be careful we weren’t followed there.”
“This dual-breed thing is the real reason you don’t age?” I asked, suddenly uncertain of everything I’d learned up until this point.
“Even if I stop shifting, I’m still part Cruor. Only pure Strigoi can age.”
I didn’t care if he was part Cruor, but if we could turn him into a pure Strigoi, then there was hope of a future for us. Us, together. Though I wasn’t looking for any major commitment, I needed to know if it was possible. I needed to know how much to protect my heart.
“What about the procedure?” I asked. “The one the Ankou once used.”
“I said I’d be able to age,” Charles said darkly. “I didn’t say I would.”
At his sudden change of tone, I pulled back, trying to keep my face a mask of indifference.
After a long moment, he added, “I have my family, understand? And the Ankou might turn me over to the Maltorim.” He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. “I can’t think about this right now, Sophia. I’m sorry.”
I gave him a solemn. “You mentioned the Ankou as a third elemental race,” I said. “There are more?”
He nodded. “The Chibold, once, but not so much now.”