Lilith is quiet for the ride back to her house, and Adam wonders if she's having second thoughts. He knows it's entirely possible that the whole proposition is too much for her and she'll wake up in the morning rejecting it all. That they'll go back to transactions in the hospital every Friday midnight with nothing more between them beyond that.
He hopes that's not the case.
Over the last few months Adam realizes he's begun to enjoy time with Lilith. The simple discussions and debates have pulled him out of the rut he's been sinking into of late. The jam sessions have sparked some creativity as well, and overall Adam knows all of this is good for him.
And there's the physical attraction, which has been rising steadily. He's dreamt of Lilith—not something he's willing to admit to her or Eve—and Adam is much more aware of Lilith's scent and warmth and vitality. She personifies the old saying—'the blood is the life.' Certainly she brings life to him in more ways than one.
And yet she's slightly dangerous too. Lilith not only has intelligence, but also the drive to use it. She's made her intentions and ambitions known about studying him and his place between life and death. Adam suspects given time, she might very well figure out exactly what he, Eve and the others are and how they became that way.
He's not sure if that's a good thing or not.
They arrive and he walks her to her door, feeling self-conscious because it's such an old-fashioned thing to do. Adam has lived through decades were women were always escorted to and fro; he still feels a sense of masculine prerogative even walking with Eve, who can take very good care of herself. Still, it will allow him a last moment to suss Lilith out.
They reach the porch, and Adam waits as she fishes out her key and unlocks the door. Lilith lays a hand on the knob and looks at Adam, taking in a deep breath. "I've got a lot of thinking to do, and I'm going to use the entire week until I see you again to do it."
He nods; it's a sensible choice. "Wise."
"In the meantime, I would like a kiss. One kiss, to . . . test the waters," Lilith murmurs.
Adam feels the heat of her blush as she asks. He holds back a moment, waiting until she looks up again, then glides closer. "One," he echoes.
Lilith raises her face and he bends closer, pressing his mouth to hers as gently as he can, but the warmth of her soft lips sends a shudder through him that Adam can barely suppress. It's dizzying, this heat, sensual and compelling, but it's not all. Her flavor is of sugar and Amaretto; he wants more, flicking a tongue to the corner of her mouth, tickling her, making her laugh and break the kiss.
"You're tasting me!" Lilith laughs, her chuckle a vibration in the air between them. "That's sexy."
Adam hangs his head a little, trying to regain his balance. He shoots her a sidelong glance in the dim light of the porch, trying to judge her reaction while hiding his own. "You taste . . . delicious," he admits.
She pushes open the door, still smiling. "Thanks. See you on Friday."
He waits until she's gone inside and closed the door behind her before he steps off the porch again. Adam goes to the car, but he's too keyed up to go home just yet, so he drives.
The quiet dark streets slide by as he cruises along. Adam smells snow in the air, the dankness of the nearby water and the hints of wood smoke too. He sees distant headlights and the spiky outlines of bare trees, the dark ghosts of abandoned buildings but most of his mind is wrapped around the memory of the last half hour.
Adam isn't sure if he's ready for this, if he can live up to whatever expectations Lilith has of what their relationship will be. But he's unexpectedly hopeful too—an emotion he hasn't felt in a long time, and when he returns home, he finds it easy to sleep.
-oo00oo-
The week goes by, and Adam pushes himself into music to keep from speculation. He lays out arrangements for three songs, adds several tracks over a minor piece he's been toying with and leaves all sorts of requests for Ian that are definitely puzzling for the kid.
"You could order a lot of this over the internet," Ian tells him. "Not that I'm complaining, but you could see what you're getting before you, uh, get it."
"I know, but I trust your judgment completely," Adam tells his assistant, smooth in the lie. He used to merely tolerate Ian but of late he's gotten dimly fond of the lad, who strives so hard to please and takes his work seriously despite the non-disclosure agreement and strange requests. "Besides, cash makes everything easier."
"Yeah," Ian agrees, and heads out with a new list, happily on the hunt.
Before he goes, Adam adds, "The bathroom's fixed too."
"Great!" Ian beams. "Man, I'm glad you didn't have to put up with that for long! It's terrible when you can't, you know . . ."
Adam nods solemnly, amused all over again at how zombies are so tied to bodily functions, although the option of a bath or shower is appealing to him. He thinks hard, trying to remember his last bath . . . shortly after the terrible events at Kent State, Adam remembers.
His body, he knows, is in a perpetual state of self-care, self-cleaning.
Adam has spent so much time in his current state that it's hard to think back to when he was among the living. Dimly he recalls aches and fatigue, chill and tension. Now, he lives with only pain and pleasure as his responses. Sunlight and hunger bring pain, as does injury. Pleasure comes from the good stuff and sex and some sense of accomplishment, Adam supposes. It's been a while since he thought about it.
He knows he and Eve have no particular scent, which is one of the first things zombies notice about them. For all their touted higher intelligence, zombies are still very much hard-wired to their animal natures. For years he wore cinnamon or myrrh while Eve preferred smoky herbs or a touch of resin—throwbacks to her first days in the dark woods that used to cover most of England.
As a joke years ago Eve once presented him with a bottle of Bay Rum, laughing with delight at his distaste. He supposes it's still somewhere in the house, gathering dust. Now Adam rarely bothers with scent, letting the woods of the guitars or the dust of the house rest on his skin.
He considers taking a bath.
Waking up at sunset on Friday, Adam opens his eyes from his latest dream and sighs. He'd been climbing a hill in unfamiliar terrain, never reaching the top, but closing in on it with every stride. No one else had been there, but the way seemed familiar. He's not a big one for dream analysis but he's fairly sure it's symbolic of his relationship with Lilith.
Sigmund would have made much of it, Adam thinks dryly.
He rises, runs a bath, and carries his glass of good stuff to the tub, drinking it after he climbs into the hot water. It's good—surprisingly so—and Adam considers bathing a bit more often. He also makes a note to check out Lilith's bathroom and see what she stocks there. It's only when he climbs out that Adam realizes he has no towels, and he glares at his reflection in the glass, naked and dripping, acutely aware of the foolishness of moment.
"You're not one of them," he tells his image with cutting sarcasm.
Still, it's only a mild annoyance and he shakes himself off before finding something to wear. Adam dresses, collects the empty flasks and makes his way outside where fresh snow blankets everything. He doesn't feel the chill, but what does annoy him is that he'll leave tire tracks when he goes. At this point he can't do anything about it, though.
He thinks of the kiss as he drives the frosted streets.
Caution makes Adam remember to park a bit away on the edge of a 24 hour convenience store next to a VW. He takes his time walking to Lilith's house, deliberately keeping his pace slow. Part of it is to avoid attention of course; he's gotten very good at not catching anyone's eye. The other part is simple trepidation. Jaded he may be but Lilith's choice isn't predictable, and the uncertainty holds a bit of delicious dread for him. Eve accuses him of deriving masochistic pleasure in moments like this, and he's not sure if she's wrong.
Adam manages a smile at that, and turns up the walk to Lilith's house. The porch light is on, and when he rings the bell, it's a short wait before the door opens.
"Wow. You're at the front door," Lilith murmurs, clearly surprised. "Not just waltzing in the back door."
"It's . . . a formal occasion," Adam points out. Lilith is in a dress; a burgundy cashmere one that hugs her hips and chest and complements her curls.
She notices his stare and blushes. "Agreed. Come in."
He follows her, catching a hint of perfume in her wake. This would seem to be a good sign. Lilith moves to the kitchen, taking a seat at the table and motioning to him to sit at the other end.
There is a folder on the table. Adam eyes it cautiously as Lilith purses her mouth.
"What's this?"
"Our stipulations," she murmurs.
"Stipulations?" Adam feels himself tense up.
Lilith sighs, and pushes the folder towards him. "Yes. I'm sure you and Eve have made a lot of agreements in your lifetimes, formal and informal, but I've only got the next forty years or so and I'm cautious. I've put down what you can expect from me and what I'd like to expect from you if we're going to be in any sort of relationship."
Adam stares at her, but Lilith holds his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. He does note the faintest of quivers along her chin. He picks up the folder and flips it open, scanning the first page, and then as the first line catches his attention, reading more slowly.
After five minutes, Adam looks up at Lilith, choosing his words carefully. "You're serious."
She nods.
Adam looks again at the page. "You are offering me and Eve a year of hospitality, support, and blood in exchange for research access? How romantic," he growls. "Clearly my kiss made an amazing impression on you!"
"It did," Lilith cuts into his rant before he can get rolling. "Really it did. I enjoyed it enough to stay up all night working on the rough draft of what you're looking at, because I don't want the two of you to keep existing on reckless arrangements, bubeleh."
