Fallen Embers by P.G. Forte Page A

well the choice is taken from us. To live with what we’ve done is hard enough. To live with the knowledge that we were so depraved we’d ask for such a thing?” She sighed. “Ah, well, perhaps I’ve over-thought the matter after all. Perhaps those who would willingly choose such a path are immune to guilt and suffer far less than those of us who fought it.”
    Quintano said nothing for a moment. He stared off into the distance, his expression brooding. “I understand very little about these matters,” he said at last. “Indeed, if these past few weeks with you have taught me anything, it’s that I know even less than I thought I did. I learned long ago to take nothing for granted, to trust no one, to take no one’s word on anything—especially not the word of a…of a vampire . But if there’s anything in this world of which I’m sure, it is this; you would not have made that choice. You are not the monster I mistook you for at our first meeting and I apologize for having so misjudged you. You give me hope. That is something I have not had in a very, very long time.”
    â€œThank you,” Georgia replied, swallowing hard. When his eyes met hers she glanced away quickly, before he could read her gaze and mark the confusion in it. Her emotions roiled within her. Her thoughts were equally turbulent. And that look on his face just now—hot, hungry, intense—made it even more difficult to think clearly or calmly.
    Was it his words that moved her so? His faith in her character? Or was it something else altogether? Whatever the cause, she was finding it suddenly hard to breathe. Oh, how she wanted to be the person he believed her to be, to live up to all his expectations, to do whatever was necessary to keep him looking at her like that—always like that. Oh, how she wanted him .
    The thought shocked her. Not because she hadn’t already been considering it. She had, of course. But not like this. Up until now, she’d been thinking of it as a challenge, a form of entertainment—a short, relatively meaningless interlude intended to provide mutual satisfaction and an incentive for him to stick around for as long as she might need him. What she had in mind now was…well, what exactly? She didn’t even know.
    Still not meeting his gaze she walked back over to the log where he sat. Her heart was pounding as she seated herself beside him. She knew he could hear it, for how could he not? She took comfort in the fact that he likely had no way to interpret what it meant.
    The beat of Georgia’s heart was loud and insistent. As usual, Quintano had no idea what to make of it, but it blended with his own in a manner that was oddly pleasing. As she slid closer to him, he could feel the heat of her body brand him all along his side. For a moment he thought she might move even closer, thought she might lean against him, or even slip her hand into his. She didn’t, of course, and he had to fight to suppress the disappointment her hesitation brought, the urge that arose within him—no, the need —to wrap his arm around her and pull her flush against him, to erase even the slight distance that remained between them. Her scent, as it washed over him, carried its usual warning: Vampire! But this time that knowledge came softly, as though it were whispered, rather than roared. This time it came nuanced, layered. That was only one aspect—a single facet—not the sum total of who she was.
    And perhaps, just perhaps, it wasn’t all he was, either.
    â€œDid you wish to go in search of something else to eat?” she asked again after a moment had passed.
    â€œNo.”
    She glanced behind her. “Then shall we change camp? Perhaps another location would please you more. Have you tired of this locale? Do you wish to move on?”
    He shook his head. He liked their present location well enough. But, in truth, he couldn’t