I looked up into his big brown eyes and wanted it. But I couldn't lie to him. That would be worse than cruel. "This is awkward."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing. It's not your fault. It's mine."
He shook his head. "You can't help how you feel."
"My first instinct is to cut and run, Richard. Stop seeing you. No more long conversations. No touching. Nothing."
"If that's what you want." His voice sounded sort of strangled, as if it cost him dearly to say those words.
"What I want is you. I just don't know if I can handle all of you."
"I shouldn't have proposed until you'd seen what I really was."
"I saw Marcus and the gang."
"It's not the same as seeing me go beastly on you, is it?"
I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "No," I said, "it isn't."
"If you have someone else you can call to wait with you tonight, I'll go. You said you needed time and I practically move in. I'm pushing."
"Yeah, you are."
"I'm scared that I'm losing you," he said.
"Pushing won't help," I said.
"I guess not."
I stood there staring at him. The apartment was dark. The only light from the kitchen. It could have been, should have been, very intimate. I told everybody that lycanthropy was just a disease. It was illegal and immoral to discriminate. I didn't have a prejudiced bone in my body, or so I told myself. Staring up into Richard's handsome face, I knew it wasn't true. I was prejudiced. I was prejudiced against monsters. Oh, they were good enough to be my friends, but even my closest friends, Ronnie and Catherine, were human. Good enough to be friends, but not good enough to love. Not good enough to share my bed. Is that really what I thought? Was that who I was?
It wasn't who I wanted to be. I raised zombies and slew vampires. I wasn't clean enough to throw stones.
I moved closer to him. "Hold me, Richard. Just hold me."
His arms enfolded me. I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my face against his chest. I could hear his heartbeat, fast and strong. I held him, listening to the beat of his heart, breathing his warmth. For just an instant I felt safe. It was the way I'd felt before my mother died. That childish belief that nothing can hurt you while Mommy and Daddy hold you tight. That utter faith that they can make everything all right. In Richard's arms, for brief moments, I had that again. Even though I knew it was a lie. Hell, it had been a lie the first time. My mother's death had proven that.
I pulled away first. He didn't try and hold on. He didn't say anything. If he'd said anything remotely sympathetic I might have cried. Couldn't have that. Down to business. "You haven't asked how it went with Jean-Claude."
"You were almost mad at me when you came through the door. I thought if I started questioning you right off the bat, you might yell at me."
He'd made coffee all on his own. That earned him at least two brownie points. "I wasn't mad at you." I poured coffee into my baby penguin mug. Regardless of what I take to work, it is my favorite mug.
"Yes, you were," he said.
"You want some coffee?"
"You know I don't like it."
How do you trust a man that doesn't like coffee? "I keep hoping you'll come to your senses."
He started dishing out his meal. "Sure you don't want some?"
"No, thanks." It was some small brown meat in a brown sauce. Looking at it made me nauseous. I'd eaten later than this with Edward, but tonight, food just didn't sound good. Maybe getting my head bashed into concrete had something to do with that.
I sat down in one of the chairs, one knee drawn up to my chest. The coffee was Viennese cinnamon, one of my favorites. Sugar, real cream, and it was perfect.
Richard sat down opposite me. He bowed his head and said grace over his meal. He's Episcopalian, did I mention that? Except for the furry part, he really is perfect for me.
"Tell me what happened with Jean-Claude, please," he asked.
I sipped my coffee and tried to think of a short version. Okay, a short version Richard wouldn't mind hearing. Okay, maybe just the truth.
"He took the news better than I thought he would, actually."
Richard looked up from his meal, silverware poised. "He took it well?"
"I didn't say that. He didn't burst through a wall and try to kill you immediately. He took it better than I expected."
Richard nodded. He took a sip of water and said, "Did he threaten to kill me?"
"Oh, yeah. But it was almost like he saw this coming. He didn't like it, but it didn't catch him by complete surprise."
"Is he going to try and kill me?" He asked it very calmly, eating his meat and brown sauce.