THIRTY-FIVE

As Marisol stood before him as if she were about to enter into a bar fight—and win it—Assail felt an exhaustion that had nothing to do with his recovery. Indeed, this was the problem with lying to intimates, he thought. The untruths always came home to roost and never in a way that justified the falsity, however small or large it had been.

Because, in fact, there was never a justification to lie to someone who loved you.

“Do you have cancer or don’t you,” his female demanded.

Assail wished he’d had more time. But for what? As if that would change this part of things?

“Come,” he said, taking her elbow. “I should like some privacy.”

She jerked herself free of his hold, but she did go into his office with him. And as he shut the door, she went over to the windows that ran from ceiling to floor.

“Please do not open the drapes,” he said as she reached out.

“Why. Don’t like the light of day?”

“No, I do not.”

“So?” She turned around. “You want to tell me what’s really going on here?”

Assail lowered himself into the padded chair that was opposite all of his computers. As he propped his chin up with his fist, he stared across at her. “I am sorry you were deceived by my cousins.”

She blinked, as if taking a moment to absorb the news. “So you’re not terminal.”

“I was. But I am no longer.”

Her laugh was short and harsh. “I don’t know whether to be relieved—or get my grandmother and take her back to Miami right now.”

“I am sorry they chose not to be honest.”

Marisol jabbed a finger at him. “Don’t get it twisted. They may have started it, but you kept the lie going.”

“You are correct.”

When he didn’t go any further, she crossed her arms again. “I’m waiting. And I want to know everything, whatever it is.”

As he scrambled in his empty head to find words that made sense, he couldn’t decide what was worse. Baring his weakness before her, or knowing, in the depths of his dark heart, that the real secret was one he could never share with her: He could not tell her what he was. As a rule, his species did not reveal themselves to humans—and in the very rare, extremely rare, case where that operating principle was violated, if the human somehow was able to accept things, they had to leave their life behind and find their way within the vampire world.

It required a complete immersion. A never-go-back.

And he wasn’t prepared to ask that of her—because her grandmother, her most important responsibility, who happened to be a devout, God-fearing Catholic, would either have to be jettisoned at the proverbial side of the road…or Mrs. Carvalho would have to come with.

And that was not going to happen. Even if Marisol could evolve into the reality, her grandmother with her traditions and her strict codes and her God was never going to get there.

Assail was not about to ruin that wonderful old woman’s life.

“You have one more minute,” Marisol announced, “and then I am getting my car keys—”

“I have been addicted to cocaine for a good year now.” Assail took a deep breath. “And by addicted, I mean…vials and vials of it up my nose every night. I was a raging coke addict, Marisol. I am not proud of this, and yes, I was doing it hardcore when I was with you.”

Her brows lifted. “I never saw you do drugs.”

“Why would I ever have snorted a line in front of you? I wanted you—I still want you—to find me suitable as a mate. That is not the kind of behavior that creates such an impression.”

“Were you…did you do anything intravenously?”

“No, I never used needles.”

She seemed visibly relieved. “I, ah, I knew you were dealing it.”

“But you didn’t know I was my own customer.” He focused on her socks because he was afraid of what he would see in her eyes. “When one is in a fancy suit, living in a house like this, drug addiction is far easier to hide than if one is a junkie in a cardboard box in an alley. But the reality is, both the homeless man and I are exactly the same when it comes to being crippled.”

“You detoxed,” she murmured.

“I did, yes. Three months ago, I went to the clinic to be medically supervised while I got off the cocaine. Unfortunately, my”—he touched his head—“my brain did not do well. I had a period of psychosis.”

“Why didn’t your cousins just say this?”

“Would you have come if you’d been told I was dying of insanity?” He wanted to reach out to her, but he stayed where he was because he didn’t want to pen her in. “I am very sorry that you were deceived, and I do believe that you, and you alone, are the reason that I am here instead of still at that clinic. But you shouldn’t have been lied to. That was wrong.”

Marisol opened her mouth, but didn’t speak right away. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I haven’t been thinking correctly. And more than that…I was ashamed. Addiction is an ugly, nasty disease, and I didn’t want you to know I was so weak as to get lost in it.”

She looked up at the ceiling. Refocused on him. “So you are not dying.”

“No, I am not. Not more than any other living, mortal entity.” He shook his head. “And please know I am sorry. I truly am.”

It was a long while before she moved toward him, and at first, he assumed she was leaving the room to go gather her things and her grandmother. But then she stopped in front of him.

Tilting his chin up with her forefinger, she stared into his eyes, and he prayed that she found whatever she was looking for.

“I’m glad you’re going to be okay,” she said after a long moment.

Will you stay, he thought as he put his hands lightly on her hips. Will you still stay with me?

He kept those questions to himself. He was too afraid of the answers.

---

God was so odd.

As Sola stood in front of Assail, she thought she probably needed to rephrase that, even though it rhymed. After all, she had prayed at that mass for just this kind of break in the bad news, had hoped for this unbelievable outcome, this reprieve.

But instead of jumping for joy, she was left off-kilter and feeling betrayed. Part of her told her to get off her high horse and understand Assail’s and his cousins’ point of view. The other half, though, was feeling manipulated.

“I hate that you’ve put me in this position.”

He nodded. “Myself as well.”

“So I guess I should just go home.”

“Your home is not Miami and you know it.”

“It’s not Caldwell, either,” she countered. “I’ve been here for ten years, and you know something—they’ve all sucked. Which is a helluva commentary considering how bad the decade before this was.”

“Your grandmother is your home. Wherever she is, you are at your place of residence.”

Damn you, she thought. For knowing me.

“Marisol, I am out of the life. I am as free as you are. I would like to start a new chapter—anywhere. Miami, Caldwell, overseas. Like you, my home is where another is, not specific to any particular zip code.”

As he stared up at her, his moonlight eyes were steady and sad.

“So you’re at home with your cousins.” She took a step away from him. “Wherever they are you—”

“Don’t be daft. This is naught to do with them.”

“Watch your tone. You are not in a position to get pushy.”

“I can protect you. My cousins and I are a safer bet for the two of you, and well you know it.”

Sola narrowed her stare on him. “I’ve been doing a pretty good goddamn job on my own.”

“Are you willing to gamble your life on that? Your grandmother’s? There is safety in numbers.”

“Do you really want me to stay with you only through self-interest?”

“Whatever it takes.”

She shook her head. “You have no pride.”

“Nope. None. Not when it comes to you.”

Sola went back over to the drapes that he wouldn’t let her open. Jesus, it was like living with a bunch of vampires in this house, everything buttoned up during the daylight hours. Then again, that was the way of drug dealers. Night owls, the lot of them.

Staring at the opaque fabric, because there was no looking through it, she tried on for size the idea of them moving around together as a pack, Assail, her grandmother, the two cousins, Markcus, herself.

Turning back to him, she looked at him for the longest time, weighing everything. He was right, there was strength in numbers. And he was still so weak, his body frail under the button-down that he’d tucked into those too-loose twill slacks.

In her mind, she heard him say that he was ashamed. Then she recalled when he had first opened his eyes to her and she had seen that the whites were all red…

Such suffering.

“Are you going to stay clean?” she demanded, even as she wondered how in the world she could trust any answer he gave to that.

“Yes. On my life, Marisol. I will never do any drug again—I have learned too well where that takes me.”

Shit, she thought.

After what felt like a lifetime, she shrugged. “I catch you lying to me or doing coke, and I’m leaving. I have no interest in enabling you, making excuses for you, or pretending I will spare you any kind of a backward glance. You have one chance and that is it. Are we clear?”

Pushing himself upright, he nodded immediately. “I understand and I accept this.”

“And she’s going to make you convert. My grandmother does not play—and you’re going to have to learn Spanish and/or Portuguese. She’ll teach you it whether you like it or not.”

“Marisol…”

When Assail’s voice cracked, she went over to him and embraced his thin body. He had been through hell, and the medical staff had certainly assumed they were going to lose him—and as much as Sola would have preferred the truth right from the beginning, he was correct. She probably wouldn’t have come up here if it had been just a he-isn’t-coming-out-of-his-addiction or he’s-lost-his-mind thing.

And that was kind of ugly to admit. Like cancer was a noble disease, but if your biochemistry had conspired with a drug to your mortal detriment then you were undeserving of sympathy, support, understanding.

“I am sorry,” he said into her hair.

“Me, too. And I love you.”

The shudder that went through him made her feel as though she was doing the right thing: He was relieved like that because he didn’t want to lose her as badly as she didn’t want to lose him.

“I will take good care of you and your grandmother,” he said roughly.

Leaning back, Sola pegged him with a hard eye. “That’s a two-way street. I’m not a damsel in distress who needs to be saved, I’m a partner who will help you to survive, too. If there is a price on my head, then the Benloise family has one on yours, too. You need me as well.”

“Yes,” he murmured. “I most certainly do.”

Sola had to smile. “Guess I told you, huh.”

“You certainly did. And it’s a huge turn-on. You want to go upstairs and order me around some more?”

She narrowed her eyes again. “Say please.”

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease…”