“Um…hasn’t he been dead a long time?” she asked. “How could you have heard him play it?”
He seemed caught off guard.
“I meant…um…what I meant to say was that I heard a recording of him playing it.”
But Sage looked flustered, as if caught in a lie. And as Scarlet thought about it, it seemed odd—they didn’t have recording devices hundreds of years ago. How could he have heard Beethoven playing it?
But he quickly got up from the piano and took her hand, and began to lead her through the house—and her focus changed. The feel of his hand on hers was electrifying: it was hard to think of anything else.
She was nervous as he led her through all the rooms, and wondered where he was taking her. Could he be leading her to her bedroom? If so, what would she say?
Scarlet got even more nervous as she started to think about how attracted she felt to him. She thought back to her time with Blake, by the river, of how she had changed. Wanted his blood. She felt so nervous that something like that might happen again—this time with Sage. She couldn’t allow that to happen. She couldn’t ruin things. Not twice. She willed her body to stay normal. She prayed that she wouldn’t suddenly freak out again and have to run out of here.
Please God. Make me be normal. Just tonight. Just let me get through this.
Finally, Sage led her to a set of tall, French doors. He reached up, unlocked the antique brass hardware, slid the bolts and turned the delicate knobs. He pulled open both doors and took her hand and led her outside onto the wide, stone terrace.
The night air was crisp and refreshing. The terrace stretched forever, fifty feet in each direction, and culminated in a wide, marble railing.
He led her to it and as they leaned against it, she looked out at the huge full moon over the Hudson, the water sparkling. The air was filled with the sound of the ancient trees swaying in the wind.
Scarlet felt as if she’d walked into a postcard. She wanted to freeze this moment forever.
It also made her feel a more pressing need for answers. Who was this boy, really? Was this all too good to be true?
“Tell me about you,” Scarlet said, as she turned and faced him. His mysterious grey eyes were glistening, reflecting the color of the moon as he looked out at the horizon.
“Like what?” he asked.
“Anything. Everything. I really don’t know anything. You’re so…mysterious. Nobody really knows anything. It’s like you just showed up one day, out of nowhere. Tell me about you. Your past. Where you’re from. Your family. It’s all so…different. You’re so different from everyone around here. Don’t you see that?”
He looked away, and she hoped she hadn’t pushed too far. But she was dying to know, and she had to ask.
“I don’t understand why different isn’t okay,” he answered.
“It’s fine. I don’t care. I guess I just want to know who I’m with.”
He sighed.
“My family is pretty intense. I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you more but I can’t. Maybe one day I’ll be able to, and you’ll understand.”
Scarlet was beginning to feel disappointed. She didn’t understand. Why couldn’t he tell her?
“What I can tell you is this,” he continued, “I know it’s hard to believe, because we barely know each other, but I care about you. Very much.”
He turned and looked into her eyes, and the full force of his stare was overwhelming. She felt butterflies.
“The first second I saw you, in the cafeteria, and when I saw you again outside your house, I felt like I knew you. Like we’re connected somehow.”
He looked into her eyes and as he did, Scarlet felt her heart pounding. It was eerie, because that was the exact same thing she had been thinking. And she didn’t understand how it was possible, either. It made no sense. They barely knew each other. How could they have such strong feelings?
“Do you feel it, too?” he asked.
Scarlet hesitated, not knowing how to respond. She got nervous.
“Maybe,” she said, her voice trembling.
He reached up with one hand and gently brushed the hair from her face. As he did, he ran his fingertips along her cheek—and his touch was electrifying. She could barely breathe as he took a step closer, leaned in. He came closer and closer, and she leaned in, too, just a bit.
And for the first time, their lips met.
Their kiss sent an electric shock throughout her entire body, and she felt everything she knew about the world starting to change. First, it was a soft, gentle kiss, then he kissed harder, and so did she. She closed her eyes, and felt her world melting.
She feared she might transform again, might be overwhelmed with a desire to feed on him, as she had been with Blake.
But to her relief and surprise, the desire never came. She couldn’t understand why, and she was beyond grateful. Her prayer had been answered. She was normal again.
Suddenly, to her surprise, Sage backed away. He suddenly took two steps back, turned from her, and faced the river. As he did, he raised one hand to his chest, and looked to be in pain.
She was confused. Had she done something wrong? Was he sick?
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
She came over and placed a hand on his back, wondering if he was okay. She was shocked: as fate would have it, the roles had reversed. He was the one that was suddenly backing away—not her.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“What is it?” she asked, wondering if it was her. Had he changed his mind?
“I wish I could tell you,” he said. “I’m sorry,” he added. “But I have to go.”
Scarlet stared back, shocked.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“It’s not you,” he answered. “It’s my…family.”
“Your family?” she asked, confused.
He closed his eyes, as if in pain, and slowly shook his head again.
“I’m sorry. Here. Please. Take my car. Bring yourself home. You have to leave now. I’m sorry.”
She looked at him as he held out the keys to his Lamborghini, flabbergasted and hurt.
“I can’t take your car,” she said, shocked. “I don’t even have my driver’s license. And it’s like a million dollar car.”
“It’s okay. Take it and bring it back tomorrow. You have to go now. I’m sorry. Please. Go.”