CHAPTER FIVE

Clearing the barrier between Edward and me was literal in more ways than the obvious. I gave up my pretense of not enjoying our visits, while rigidly keeping my work ethic and decorum above reproach. In response, Edward opened up as well, answering more in-depth questions about vampires in general and his experiences in particular, as long as I avoided the subject of his family. He gave me insight into the vampire mind and psyche I'd never dreamed of having, as well as glimpses into his own unique character.

He went into great detail about feeding—the process and compulsion, the instinct and base need that drove them into a frenzy. He enjoyed pushing the boundaries between us, nudging me, trying to shock and seduce, which made him seem more like the young man he'd been before his change. And when he did speak to me about his transformation, I fairly buzzed with excitement and accomplishment at the information I gathered on a process no human had ever seen or heard discussed.

"I didn't want to be a monster," he said idly, sitting at the piano bench and running elegant fingers over the closed lid. "Not at first. I was horrified at what happened, at what I'd become and what I must do to survive. The bloodlust, though…"

He rolled his eyes and smiled, lying on his back along the bench, spread out before me like a secret offering. Of information, of course. He did give beautiful information.

"Once the bloodlust took over, I never looked back." He rolled his head to the side to gauge my reaction, smirking when I just swung back and forth in my chair. "There is no going back. It is what it is, you know, and being a vampire isn't without benefits."

"Benefits?"

"The strength, the speed—oh. Man, I miss running." His voice took on a wistful note as he switched his gaze to the blank white ceiling. "I love to run. No point in hoping I could get a chance to do that? I'd almost trade the piano for a chance to run again."

I'm sorry trembled on the tip of my tongue, but I held it back with iron will. Edward sighed and continued.

"The ability to see and hear everything. The indestructibility, that's nice. I love fast cars, fast motorcycles. Almost as much as finding a great new artist or reading my favorite classic for the first time all over again." He sat up, scrubbing his hands through his hair. "The physical is great, but the mental is amazing, too. I can remember everything, digest a thousand things at once. But when we feed, it all comes together in this perfect synchronism—the looks, our physical perfection and the scent we give off to attract, our voices, our strength and speed to capture and immobilize, our teeth to strike and pierce, all of that so that the monster takes over and glories in it, so we can drink our fill, feed, and survive."

He shivered, and my gaze followed the defined muscles in his arms to his clenched fists. He noticed the tenseness and relaxed his hands at his sides.

"Sorry. The memory, the programmed drive… Being a prisoner doesn't dull the desire, and trust me, animal blood doesn't satisfy it either." He gave another repressed shudder and stalked to the other side of the small room.

"But you've overcome that for the most part, better than any other vampire I've ever seen. Different," I allowed. "Most vampires, especially here, are reduced to that primitive state, feeding, fighting, caged animals. But you… Not you. Your books, your music, your cultured manners. I've never come across a vampire quite like you, Edward."

"You do know there is no such thing as a tame vampire, don't you?" Edward asked. He stopped in the center of the room, arms clasped behind his back before continuing to stroll the perimeter of the cell aimlessly, although I had my doubts anything he did was aimless.

"Yes," I responded dryly, wondering what had brought on that particular question. "You, predator. Me, prey."

A hard expression tightened his features, but then he shook it off with a low chuckle. I'd let a lot of things slide since that fateful day I'd first heard him play the piano for me and let him see me, but I still knew him for what he was—dangerous. Lovely, enthralling, intriguing, and my own personal brand of heroin, he was like the drug, deadly and dangerous for all the euphoria it produced.

"You feel safe behind your barriers. These—" his arm swept the small confines of the room, tipping his head toward the thick glass separating us "—and the ones you put up yourself, your personal defenses. For all your studies, your years of experience, have you ever been in the same room as a vampire? Face to face, nothing between you? No protection, no barriers, no safety net, nothing but you and your subject, the creature that fascinates you? Your life's work?"

"No," I admitted on a breath. "I've only ever been close to a vampire when they're brought in, unconscious."

A poison was used to capture them, one the Institute's scientists had developed that was absorbed through a vampire's mucous membranes or ingested in affected blood.

"But the vampires are in a titanium cage with only panels of mesh that you can barely see through, so the handlers can check on the status of their…captive."

"Yes," Edward murmured, turning away. "Yes, I remember."

"It would be the pinnacle of my work to be able to interact one-on-one with a vampire, to see and feel the things I've only observed, read about, or heard, but that's impossible."

"Work? Is that all it would be? A person such as yourself, a scholar and scientist, someone who is as involved and dedicated as you are… Wouldn't it be just a bit of a personal coup, as well?"

I wondered if I'd made a mistake in revealing that desire to him. It wasn't safe or smart, but my innate curiosity and spirit of scientific diligence wondered how I could call myself an expert when I had only ever been physically near a vampire once in my life, and then only for a few seconds. I knew rationally it was for the best, that anything else would be a risk to my life, but… I always felt like a faker, a phony, because I'd never had that experience.

We were both silent for many long minutes before he spoke.

"I want you to know, if you ever wanted to… You can't trust me, not too far, but you could trust me enough for that. If you wanted to. If you wanted to, you know, touch me. Or whatever."

I gaped at him, and he turned his back once again. I couldn't help but notice the muscles bunching under his shirt as he brought his arm up and then dropped it to his side. He gave a short laugh and spun to face me again.

"I apologize. I know how that must sound. I assure you, I didn't mean it that way. I just thought… Well, I just thought if you wanted to, out of professional curiosity, I could handle it for a few minutes."

I wanted to—oh, how I wanted to. But I didn't trust him. I wanted to, but… I didn't. I wasn't stupid. If he wanted to grab and eat me, he would, and nothing could stop him. It would be over before I even knew what had happened. I knew the unbearable temptation I'd present to him. He'd been on a diet of animal blood for the past few months, and the scent of human blood so close, so available, would be more than he could bear.

But, oh, how I wanted.

-o-o-o-o-

"I've thought about what you said the last time we spoke." All I'd done for the past sixteen hours was think about it.

He'd been lying on the bed but sat up at my words.

"The 'me, predator' part? I didn't scare you, did I?" He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before opening them and settling an amused, knowing gaze on me through the cleared barrier. "No, not scared."

I fidgeted before controlling the telltale motion and cleared my throat. "Well, yes, that, too. I don't ever forget you're dangerous, Edward."

And that's what had consumed my thoughts all night, preventing any rest. I knew he was dangerous with every cell in my body, but my damnable curiosity, my desire to know, to learn, to have an opportunity no one ever had or was likely to get again… The fact that he was deadly was part of the conflict, but more so my inappropriate and inexplicable fascination with him. I wasn't sure I could trust my instincts and career-driven interests, my thirst for knowledge. I couldn't lie to myself. I was attracted to my subject. Not just physically, not just sexually, although I wouldn't deny that rush of awareness, but he'd pulled me in with his thoughts, his character, his mind. I wanted to know everything he'd allow, experience all that I could, and I wanted all that from him.

He inhaled again and lounged back on the bed in a deceptively relaxed, purposefully enticing pose.

"I smell the heat of your blood, which must mean your heart is pounding. But the adrenaline isn't tinged with fear." He inhaled again and shivered, causing an echoing tremble in my body. "Just a touch, but…"

Golden eyes fixed on my face and one side of his mouth quirked. "Curiosity. That's what makes you tick, isn't it? It'll get you in trouble one day."

"I don't doubt it," I murmured. I was uncomfortable he could scent so well through the barrier, and he knew it. He tried to make me self-conscious, and I needed to figure out why.

"And something else." His head tilted as he examined me, and my fingers itched to darken the glass between us. I laced my fingers together in my lap, and his lips quirked again as if he could read my mind. "Excitement again. And…"

If he said arousal, I would blacken the screen, crawl under the counter, and never come out again.

"Well." He smiled, doing that mind reading thing again. "Anyway. You were saying?"

"I was?"

"You were thinking about what I said yesterday?'

"Oh. Oh, yes. I was. I have a question."

"You always do." His voice was amused and indulgent, but his eyes gleamed.

"Well, yes. And I know before I ask it how silly it is, and that's why I debated about this last night, because I know what the answer is and what I want it to be, and they aren't necessarily the same thing. So I shouldn't ask, and I don't know what—"

His rich, rolling laughter interrupted my mortifying verbal barrage.

"While you do love to talk my ear off, I don't think I've ever heard you say so much at once. Ask your question."

"Well, here's the thing. I don't know if I can trust you."

His laughter faded, and we stared at each other through the barrier. It was the most information I'd given him about me personally, my thoughts and feelings, and we both realized it. He studied my face for a long time, his expression serious, before he stood and moved to the middle of the room.

"I'll try," he finally said. His voice was low, but it echoed through the cell and my will. "I promise you. I'll do everything I can to answer your question honestly."

I shut my eyes and took a trembling breath, the first time I'd let him see the reaction, the weakness, the desire for all the things he caused within me. When I opened them again, it was to find him standing very near the barrier, breathing deeply. I stared into his eyes, and all my qualms, the uncertainties and anxiety I'd dealt with over the past twenty-four hours or so, disappeared.

"If I did take you up on your offer—to you know, touch you, be in the same room and experience you, a vampire, firsthand… Are you sure you can handle it? I mean it, Edward. It means my life and yours. If we did this—if I do this—and something happens, if you hurt me, they'll kill you. It wouldn't just be my life at risk. My life is my decision, but you have to make the same choice about yours."

He bowed his head and walked around the perimeter if the room before stopping in the exact same spot he'd started from.

"I have absolutely no doubt that my instinct, my will, would be my own. Under my control. I promise you, I will not feed from you, take your life, against your will. Never. You have my word."

"Are you…" My voice wavered, and I swallowed to steady it. "Are you one hundred percent positive, Edward? How can you be?"

"I am. I swear it to you. On my family. I'm strong enough to resist."

The air left my lungs in a gust as I sat back in my chair, examining his face for the slightest sign of deceit. I doubted I'd see it even if he lied to me, but every line in his body showed quiet, determined confidence.

"I told you yesterday, there's no such thing as a tame vampire. Feeding is primal to us, uncontrollable for most. But I can do it for a short amount of time. I've mastered those base impulses, denied myself before, so it's a promise I can make you."

"I wouldn't normally even consider it. Never ask it of you or any vampire, but… You are different."

And that was the crux of my decision. No one in the centuries-long history of the Institute had ever come across such a complex vampire, one with such staggering control over its base instinct. One who not only wanted to rise above its animalistic nature, but was driven to do so and succeeded. Only that vampire. Edward. The only chance I'd ever have in my lifetime. My one shot to know—to really know and experience—a vampire face to face. The one enticement I could not reject, no matter the consequences. And if I was going to hell anyway, it might as well be with him. He would either be the pinnacle of my career, what I'd focused my entire life on, or the death of me. If the opportunity slipped through my fingers, it would a kind of death, anyway. Nothing to look forward to but living with regret. At least, that's what I told myself to validate my choice. That, and the serious, worried, and determined set of his golden eyes.

"Would you really consider it?"

"I've already considered. I've already decided. You've just made me feel better about the decision. Well, somewhat better. I'll never have another opportunity like this. If you tell me you can handle it, if you honestly believe you can, I want to do it."

"Be in the same room with me," he said, almost musing. "Are you sure? Absolutely sure?"

"I am." My voice didn't betray my nerves but only showed my conviction. "I want to see you, touch you. That is, clinical curiosity, of course. I don't mean anything inappropriate."

"Of course you don't. I can handle that, but not much, and not for long."

"Of course." I echoed his words, excitement growing by leaps and bounds. I felt dizzy and reckless with anticipation. The fulfillment of everything I'd hungered to know was so very close and so very tempting, both literally and figuratively. I wanted it so badly I would risk my life.

"You have to promise me that you'll do what I say, when I say it. Swear to it. Once you get in here, you have to listen to me. If it gets too much, if I tell you—"

"I know," I said softly, sitting on my hands and biting my lips to control their trembling. "I'll listen. No matter how much I might not want to, or how bad my curiosity and fascination get, I'll listen to you. I can swear my control is good enough for that."

"That makes us far from even, but that will have to do."

"I trust you, Edward."

A humorless smile lifted one corner of his mouth.

"Don't."

I blew out a breath and sat forward. "This is completely your call—how we do it. If we can… Can I ask that it be after hours, so no one will see?"

His jaw tightened. "No one to see, no one to hear, if it goes badly."

"If it goes badly, no one could help if there was a full SEAL team standing next to me."

"Yes." His smile lifted both corners of his mouth. "That's true."

"I'd rather not have anyone here to see, or to, well, stop us. Stop me. Cause any complications I can't control. We're going to have enough control issues between us, yes?"

"Yes," he said again. "We need to do it after I feed. A lot. If you can get me predator blood, that would be better. It's somehow more satisfying. Mountain lion would be best. It's closest to what I drank...before."

His sweeping hand encompassed his cage, and I shivered.

"That might take me a day or two to see how much I can get."

"As much as you can. It won't be too much or go to waste, I assure you."

I told William the mountain lion blood was for Edward, of course, to further my studies, and I only felt a slight twinge of guilt when he was able to get me ten pints within forty-eight hours. I only told the truth, after all. It was for Edward, and we would be furthering my research on vampires. I just didn't go into detail on what my new methodology was, and I'd worked for William long enough that he didn't ask.

I sent the blood into Edward's cell on the cart so he could feed in private, not wanting the other vampires to scent the different blood, but also because I wanted to give him something in return for the opportunity he gave me. Yes, it was a liberty I didn't provide for others, but what greater one could I give him than with my life? I didn't—couldn't—watch him feed. Not that afternoon or later, when I arranged for the extra pints to be delivered an hour before the Institute closed down and all employees left except for the security detail. For some reason, it felt odd to watch him prepare himself for me.

No one thought it strange I stayed late, as that was my usual routine. I sat at my desk and stared at the glowing screen of my laptop, too excited and nervous to concentrate on anything coherent. The office staff trickled out, then my colleagues, and finally William, rapping on my doorframe as he wheeled past with a "don't work too hard."

Fifteen minutes passed, then thirty. By forty-five, my leg was jittering against the bottom of my desk, but I forced myself to stay put for fifteen more. Sixty-five minutes after William had left, I closed my laptop, left it on my desk, and made my way down the familiar corridors to the vampire holding area and Edward.

I took a deep careful breath and held it once I reached the observation room, then took another. Shaking my hands out and rolling my shoulders, I forced myself to calm and opened the door.

"Hello, Edward." I cleared the screen that allowed him to see me, and he turned from where he stood in the middle of the small room.

His shoulders had relaxed at the sound of my voice, but tightened up again as he searched my face.

"Haven't changed your mind?"

"No." I shook my head. "Have you?"

He took a deep, unnecessary breath, mimicking the one I had taken outside the observation deck. I glanced at the closed door between where I stood and the corridor automatically, opening my mouth to ask him if, somehow, he'd known I was there, could hear or sense my actions outside the room, but he spoke again.

"No, I haven't changed my mind. I can do this. Thank you for the blood, by the way. It was good to taste something a little more potent like the mountain lion, even if it was quite stale."

"Was it enough?"

His head tipped back and forth. "It will do. In this situation, I don't think I could ever get enough, but I'm sated for the moment. My belly is filled, but still."

He placed his hand over his stomach and smiled. "I'm not sure how much it will help with the pain."

"The pain?" I asked, wondering what he meant. Was he that hungry? If he slipped, it would be me experiencing pain, and I didn't see how mountain lion blood would help.

"Being so near a human, human blood, when I've been denied for so long." He shook his head. "It's going to be excruciating, the burn, the need to slake my thirst, but I can handle it. I promise."

"You're sure, Edward?"

"As sure as you are," he answered.

"I am," I whispered. "I'm sure."

"Okay."

"Okay." I took a deep breath, laughing nervously as I held up my shaking, perspiring hands. "I'm nervous."

A look came over his face, too fleeting for me to analyze. He stepped forward, close to the barrier, and put his open palm against it. I stared at it and then him. His gaze captured mine and held.

"I am, too. I'm just incapable of having a similar physical reaction anymore."

I hesitantly reached out and placed my hand on the thick, clear material, directly over his.

"Take a deep breath. Calm down. Whatever you do, please calm down. Don't come in here with your heart pounding and smelling of fear and excitement. That would be…" Golden eyes fluttering shut, he took a deep breath as if imagining the fragrance and shivered slightly. "Bad. It would be bad. Can you do that?"

"Yes. Yes, I can. I will."

"Good." He nodded, keeping his gaze on mine. "The next time I reach for your hand, I'll be able to take it."

I couldn't stop or hide my tremor of reaction, and he stepped away from the clear wall.

"Whenever you're ready."

Slowly, my hand dropped to my side, and I took a step back. A phrase from my childhood popped into my head, and it was certainly apropos.

"Ready or not, here I come."

eeek!