Page 113 of Forsaking All Others

“Then what’s the problem? You’ve already bitten me twice.”

“I told you,” he rubs his eyes as though he can’t stand the conversation any longer, “it comes with strings. It can do terrible things. I’ve sworn I’d never do it. I won’t break my vow.”

“You also swore you wouldn’t suck women. Yet here we are,” I shrug.

“Yes.”

His tone is mournful when he replies, and I immediately feel bad for reminding him of something he finds shameful. Over the past couple of weeks I’d seen him gradually smile more, laugh even, but in between his sadness reigned, just as I’d sensed it had the first night I met him.

“I didn’t mean that,” I look down at my painted toes in their stilettoes. “I know you’re a man of honour. We all make mistakes. I’m just trying to understand your rationale. Vows can be broken for a good cause.”

“Dishonourable deeds with honourable intentions,” he murmurs, “yes, I know. I can’t give you what you want, Cat. I can’t give any woman that.”

“All I want is to live a long life in comfortable surroundings, freed from the fetters of family obligation. Most of all, I want to be safe.”

“The last,” he says, turning to look into my eyes, his own flicking down to my lips and back, “I can do. You’ll be safe with me, Cat.”

‘Does he think of that kiss too? Or is he thinking of my blood?’

“Safe but not immortal,” I reply, my eyes falling to his lips, so close to mine, yet so tantalisingly far away. I wish I could stop recalling that kiss. I wish I didn’t want more of his mouth on mine or his teeth in my neck. But what I want most right now is something he could give after marriage, but just won’t commit to no matter how I’ve argued.

“Yes. Is that something you could accept, as my wife?”

It’s not, but he doesn’t need to know that right now.

“Yes.”

“Then we need to strike a bargain,” he says quietly, pulling away and leaning back in his seat next to me, crossing his legs.

When I turn to him, his expression is businesslike.

“A bargain?”

“Yes. You and I both know there’s a chance you’ll survive the next challenge, a strong chance since you’ve triumphed in almost every challenge so far. But the last one is the real test.”

I shrug. “I mean, outdoor survivalist is not my thing,” I grimace. “If I’m being real, of all the challenges that’s the one I feared the most coming into this, apart from the baby thing.”

“Yes,” he smiles, shaking his head at the remembrance of that challenge. “And yet, I know you’ll succeed in this one and make it to the last.”

“You know?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he shrugs, “I haven’t managed to rig it or have any extra insight other than my usual gut feelings. I believe you’ll be standing at the end.”

“Well, I appreciate your vote of confidence,” I murmur, frowning, “but you and I both know I’m facing some very stiff competition. And like I said, it’s not this one I’m concerned about. It’s the next. I’ve never camped in my life, let alone survived alone in a wilderness setting…”

“Which is why my bargain should appeal.”

He leans to the side and pulls out a chocolate bar from his pocket, offering it to me.

“No thank you. I prefer jubes.”

“Really? What kind?”

I shrug.

‘Where is this weird conversation heading? Just get to the point.’

“Gummy babies, jelly beans, jelly snakes, any kind of soft jube.”