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"Hush," she whispered again, and he felt that coolness on his skin. He couldn't help himself; he put<br />
his arms around her, holding her to him.<br />
"What we do now has nothing to do with that," she said, and reached out her slim fingers to stroke<br />
his throat.<br />
He understood. And felt a flash of fear, which disappeared as her fingers went on stroking. He<br />
wanted this, wanted anything that would let him be with Katherine.<br />
"Lie back, my love," she whispered.<br />
My love. The words sang through him as he lay back on the pillow, tilting his chin back so that his<br />
throat was exposed. His fear was gone, replaced by a happiness so great that he thought it would<br />
shatter him.<br />
He felt the soft brush of her hair on his chest, and tried to calm his breathing. He felt her breath on<br />
his throat, and then her lips. And then her teeth.<br />
There was a stinging pain, but he held himself still and made no sound, thinking only of Katherine,<br />
of how he wished to give to her. And almost at once the pain eased, and he felt the blood being drawn<br />
from his body. It was not terrible, as he had feared. It was a feeling of giving, of nurturing.<br />
Then it was as if their minds were merging, becoming one. He could feel Katherine's joy in drinking<br />
from him, her delight in taking the warm blood that gave her life. And he knew she could feel his<br />
delight in giving. But reality was receding, the boundaries between dreams and waking becoming<br />
blurred. He could not think clearly; he could not think at all. He could only feel, and his feelings were<br />
spiraling up and up, carrying him higher and higher, breaking his last ties with earth.<br />
Sometime later, without knowing how he had gotten there, he found himself in her arms. She was<br />
cradling him like a mother holding an infant child, guiding his mouth to rest on the bare flesh just<br />
above the low neck of her night shift. There was a tiny wound there, a cut showing dark against the<br />
pale skin. He felt no fear or hesitation, and when she stroked his hair encouragingly, he began to suck.<br />
Cold and precise, Stefan brushed dirt off his knees. The human world was asleep, lost in stupor,<br />
but his own senses were knife-keen. He should have been sated, but he was hungry again; the memory<br />
had wakened his appetite. Nostrils flaring wide to catch the musky scent of fox, he began to hunt.
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