The diner seemed like a logical place to find some lonely human to lure out into the woods, so when Jasper Whitlock noticed another vampire there--noticed her as soon as he walked through the door--the muscles in his arms clenched and hair rose on the back of his neck.
That was when he realized she was smiling at him. Her emotions, too, were odd: it felt something like… joy. He'd felt that kind of thing before: with other vampires who expected him to be an easy kill before. That kind of joy was a sort of pleasure mixed with superiority, as if they were savoring the idea of breaking his neck. But her joy was the pure kind, a butterfly-in-the-stomach bliss that he sometimes felt in couples or the odd individual who seemed to have an otherworldly calm and confidence--but it was never, ever, directed at him.
Lust was another matter. Maria, cruel Maria, had felt that for him, but never joy, or love, or those kind of emotions. He had endured her swings from that lust to rage simply because he thought that love would come. He had worked ceaselessly at everything she asked because he thought his devotion would make her love him. She never did. Now he could never trust another woman.
The vampire in the diner hoped down from her stool and started coming towards him. He glanced to the sides, backing towards the door a half-step. What were her intentions? He could read nothing in her eyes but certainty, nothing in her heart but peace. Maybe she had a power he had never encountered--maybe she was could trick his own abilities. If he'd had a heart, it would have been pounding.
She continued coming towards him, moving gracefully, and lifted a hand to brush her short black hair out of her eyes. With that small motion, everything went into slow motion. He remembered his mother doing the very same thing--brushing her hair out of her eyes and smiling at him, five years old then, as he held up a finger-painting he'd just done. As if this new vampire could see the very inside of his mind, she smiled. It was the image of his mother.
"You've kept me waiting a long time," she said, stopping in front of him.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," he said automatically, ducking his head. His southern training would never vanish altogether, it seemed.
She stuck out her hand, then. A simple gesture--between friends or lovers, maybe. But Jasper couldn't stop his mind from racing at the sight. Maria had never done such a thing. And in his human life, he hadn't had enough time to learn about women--he'd gone off into the war before he had time to fall in love. What could it mean? When Maria had wanted him to hold her hand--for show, usually--she had ordered him to. It had never been a pleasant thing for Jasper, holding hands.
But… this woman's palm was turned up, open and vulnerable in a universal sign of peace. That still didn't mean he should take it, but amazingly his hand seemed to take on a mind of its own. Out of curiosity--or stupidity, the more likely reason--he took her hand.
At the contact of skin her emotions surged and flooded more deeply into him. He felt like he'd just stuck his hand into an electrical outlet, an experience as intense as when he was forced to kill, and he felt death rush past him. But this was nothing like death. In fact, it was complete opposite. For such a little person she certainly had lots of emotion. Instead of a shock or pain of any kind, her emotions were warm and gentle, but still so intense he felt a warm heat behind his eyes. Was that…? Could those be… tears starting to form?
He blinked, shaking his head. Jasper Whitlock did not cry. That was when he felt her hand moving. His shoulders tensed, and then he realized what was happening. She was running her small, soft thumb over the ridges, bumps, and scars on the back of his hand.
He glanced over at her, expecting to see her watching for his reaction, but she seemed completely oblivious to what she was doing. As if she'd done it a million times.
She noticed him looking and smiled again, sending a shiver all the way through him. "Ready?"
She was asking him if he was ready to leave the diner. Instead, it felt like she was asking him if he was ready to leave behind everything he'd done, everything he'd been, every horrible thing he had felt, and go out into the rain, which would wash those things away forever. As he took a step forward, following her, it felt like hope.