Adam picks up the garment bag he arrived with. "I have something for you."
He walks over and holds out the bag for me. I'm totally confused, but stand to take it from him.
"What is this?" I ask, not knowing what to do with the bag.
"A dress for the opera." He returns to the sofa, making himself comfortable.
"You bought me a dress? Why?" I ask, dumbfounded.
But the little girl in me is dying to see what it looks like. I don't remember the last time someone, especially a man, bought me a gift. Part of me wants to cry, and the other part doesn't know what to think about this.
"I didn't see an appropriate gown in your closet. Why don't you try it on? See if you like it. You can exchange it if you don't," he says matter-of-factly, but there is that challenge in his eyes again.
I look at him blankly, and then for reasons I may never understand, turn and walk into my room to try on the dress.
***
The dress is a beautiful strapless satin dream. It fits me like another skin, and accents my curves perfectly. The bodice is tight, and fitted down to the swell of my hips where multiple gathers cascade down to the ground in soft waves. The dress is exquisite, and I look fabulous wearing it. I've never seen a more stunning gown. There is no price tag to be found but it must have cost a small fortune. Pushing that thought aside, I pile my hair on top of my head in a messy bun, and add some black strappy heels before walking back into the living room.
Adam actually stands as I enter the room. The look on his face is unguarded and raw. He stares at me with what looks like wonder in his eyes. He recovers quickly as his serious mask falls back in place, but I saw what he is now hiding. I'm suddenly reminded of the gentle look between he and Katherine from my dream.
That was the type of look he gave me.
I turn in a circle, unable to hide my pleasure. "Well, how do I look?" I ask, grinning.
If I could forget about agreeing to let him bite me, I could get excited about the opera.
He continues to stare at me, now with an unreadable look on his face.
"Beautiful, and fragile," he says softly.
I look at him for a moment, then walk over and turn my back to him, asking, "Can you start the zipper? I barely got it up on my own. Way too much flexibility required for me to try that again in one night," I say, holding a few loose strands of my hair up and out of his way.
There is no response at first, but then after a moment I feel his hand on the zipper. He brings it down slowly, and I can feel his warm breath on my neck. I stifle a shiver, and turn to look at him. He's closer than I expected. I look up into his face and see desire so raw that my breath catches. I back up quickly, not wanting to be in this position with my dress ready to drop off if I wasn't holding it up.
I turn and hurry into my room, shutting the door.
***
I call Russell and invite him over for Thanksgiving this Thursday. He happily agrees to come. I let him know I might have a few other friends over, and he says, "the more the merrier." If he only knew.
Next, I call Dayna and ask if she has plans for Thanksgiving.
"Not really. Do you mind if I bring Jacob? We've been spending a lot of time together. I like him, Sam. He's incredibly sexy, sweet, and he thinks I'm funny, intelligent, and beautiful," she gushes.
I can tell she's smitten, and I start to worry about her getting hurt when this blows over and Jacob leaves. He should have kept his distance and watched her from afar.
"You know; Adam tells me Jacob moves around a lot. How are you going to feel when he has to leave? Have you both discussed that?" I ask cautiously, trying not to sound like too much of downer.
"We have, and he says he has no plans to leave anytime soon. I know it's unsure, and kind of wild and crazy, but I feel like there's something here, you know? I want to see where it goes. Do you think I'm being foolish?" she asks, sounding hesitant.
Who am I to rain on her parade? She's a big girl, and she sounds so happy. I never heard her this happy with Robert. They've always...been together. I assumed that it was a good match, but they have always had issues come up that put them on the outs or on hold, so obviously they weren't a good match and she's only now realizing that she deserves to be happy.
"No, you're smart, beautiful, and the funniest person I know. You deserve to be happy. Just make sure you keep the communication going so that you're both on the same page, okay?" I ask, sounding more like a therapist than her best friend.
"I will. He's unbelievably easy to talk to. So, it's okay to bring him?"
"Of course. Want to bring some bread?" I ask.
"You got it. Anything else that I can help with?"
"No, just bring you and Jacob. I'll see you Thursday," I say.
I hear her say good-bye as I hang up. Now to ask Adam if he will join us. I'll feel bad if we all get together and he's absent.
I walk back into the living room and find Adam is standing on the patio looking out over the city lights. Sounds of light traffic drift on the air but it's a quiet evening. I stand at the patio doors and he looks back at me.
"Would you like to join Dayna, Jacob, and myself for Thanksgiving this Thursday? I don't have any food that I'm willing to give you, but it could be fun, and you know Jacob," I say.
"I would enjoy that. I don't remember ever celebrating Thanksgiving before. This will be a first," he says.
I look at him like he's sprouted another head, but then I remember that he isn't an American native. Also, the holiday is centered on food that he doesn't eat. Makes sense now that I put it in perspective.
I'm starting to look forward to having new and old friends over for a holiday.
Now, back to planning a murder.
"Are we ready to start our planning?" I ask, rubbing my hands together.
"You are a strange creature, Samantha. Yes, by all means, lead the way to the war council." He motions for me to move into the dining area.
I sit at the table, where I lay out a tablet and a couple of pens. Picking one up, I get ready to start writing notes if the need arises. Adam stands at the bar to the kitchen and leans his elbow on the counter watching me.
"So, like I said, I think we can use me as the bait. That's the most obvious way to draw Zac out. Do you think you and Gabe working together can bring him down? Is that feasible?" I ask, getting right to it.
My pen is poised and ready.
"I don't like putting you in harm's way, but I agree there is no better way to draw him out. I believe his desire to kill you now overshadows his hatred for me. There must be a believable moment when you are without myself or Gabe." He's thinking out loud. "There can be no mistake, and at no time may he be alone with you. I do not believe he would kill you instantly. It's not his style. He lives to hand out pain. Killing you quickly would rob him of his ill-sought pleasure. Jacob must be a part of the plan, so your friend Dayna will need to be somewhere safe when we set it in motion," he says, rubbing a hand over his five o'clock shadow.
"But at what point would you not be with me?" I ask, racking my brain. "Oh, what about my gym? Even if you hang out while I work out, you wouldn't follow me into the girl's locker room," I say, excited that I actually have an idea worth considering.
I start drawing out the gym layout even before he answers.
"That could work. I'll need to take a look at the gym. He is watching our movements, so it will need to appear as part of your routine to be there, but you won't be using the shower before we have a firm plan," he says, considering the scenario. "This is a start. Are you certain you can take part in ending a life? It's not as easy as it sounds." Adam studies me, looking for signs of weakness, I suppose.
"It's either him or me. It's either him or Dayna or anyone else I care about. I didn't ask for this, but I sure as hell will finish it," I say, looking him in the eye without a glimmer of doubt.
He studies me closely, and seeing whatever it is he's looking for, heads to the sofa where he proceeds to kick off his shoes.
That's my signal to hide in my room. Gathering my notepad, pens, and book off the coffee table, I still can't manage to miss him pulling his shirt over his head. Of course, I can barely pull my eyes away, and he catches me staring as he always does. I bite my lower lip before making one last bad choice tonight.
I stop and stand up fully, taking in the purely male calendar version of Adam in faded jeans, and no shirt. Oh my lord, he looks good enough to eat. Adam seems to know what I'm thinking, and then I remember he can sense my emotions.
Damn it! This is soooo frustrating!
"I want to talk to you about something else, but I'm not sure how to bring it up," I ask, feeling shy and awkward inquiring about the dreams. "Do you think you could put your shirt back on for a few minutes? It's rather distracting." I look away.
He stands there enjoying my discomfort, making no effort to put his shirt back on. I give him a frustrated look, and throw my book at him. He snatches it out of the air and sets it on the coffee table. He then pulls the shirt back on and stands there waiting.
"I've...been having dreams. Strange dreams that started the first night I saw you in the garage," I say, watching his expression for any sign that this is familiar.
His expression doesn't change, so I continue.
"Some of the dreams seem like a premonition or something along those lines. I can't explain it completely, but they're the most realistic dreams I've ever experienced. Some feel more like a memory, but they're not my memories," I say, pausing.
When he doesn't respond, I go on.
"The first was of you and me in a forest. I think you were...hunting me." Now his look changes.
He draws his eyebrows together in a slight frown.
"And I could see and feel what you felt when we had our encounter in the garage. I could actually feel your bloodlust, but I didn't understand what it was at the time. The second one was more..." I'm searching for the words.
"Sexual," he says casually.
"Romantic, let's say. Another one I'm attacked by a vampire, but it wasn't you. I think you were trying to warn me or save me, but I'm not certain; but the ones that concern me the most are the ones that I suspect may be your memories." I wait to see what he will say.
"Why do you think they are my memories?" he asks.
"Because they felt like a memory, and you were there with Katherine," I say, watching his reaction closely.
"Where did you hear that name?" he demands.
His eyes are a bright blue now. I've touched a chord. His face looks as though I've struck him. But then the hard mask is back in place. It must be exhausting to always be so in control. For the mention of her name to cause so much pain after so long a time, he must have truly loved her.
"Only in my dream. I've seen her twice, and both times you were with her. The first time you were riding off to track someone doing terrible things. The last dream—" I can't say it as my throat closes, and tears threaten to fill my eyes.
I look down, and a single tear slides down my face.
"You saw her death," he finishes for me. His voice is barely a whisper.
His eyes confess his emotion, but his face tells nothing of the pain I know he feels. I nod my head to confirm.
"She was my childhood friend, and then my wife. She was carrying our son when Zachariah butchered her. She loved him, even with all his many faults. But he lost his mind, and then his soul when she chose me over him," he says in a flat empty voice.
As though he's locked it all away again in order to keep going.
"I don't know why you seem to have a connection to me or my memories. It would appear that it has nothing to do with my blood, since the dreams began before then."
He walks to the patio doors and stares out into the night, as is his habit.
"Thank you for telling me. I know that must have been difficult for you. Good night, Samantha."
I turn with a heavy heart and walk to my room, closing the door quietly—leaving him with his ghosts to wrestle.