I stopped for a second and watched him sink down on my bed. "You write songs?"

"Course I do." He patted the space of mattress between his legs. "Sit here."

"O...kay." I sat with my back against his chest, and David took the guitar, positioning it across my lap in front of us. "What's the song called?"

"The Knight of the Rose."

"What's it about?" I asked, letting David take my fingers and place them on the strings.

He paused. "You."

"About leaving me?"

"No. It's not a goodbye song; it's a love song..." his tone softened away to near silence. "It was just written with the tears of farewell."

Somehow, that made it hurt more.

David smiled against the side of my face, then took my hand again. "After the first chord, place your fingers here."

"What's that chord? I've never seen it before."

"I think I invented it." He kind of laughed, then strummed it once.

My eyes went wider. "Wow. That's really...intense."

"Yes." He arranged my fingers on different strings and pressed them down firmly, as if to ask if I had it. I nodded. "Okay. I'll whisper the chords as we go along. I want you to know this song by heart, Ara."

"Why?"

He moved my fingers back to the A Minor-the first chord. "So you can play it when you miss me."

I didn't want to think about that right now. "Who says I'm going to miss you?" I said playfully instead.

"My love-" he pulled me closer, reaching his right hand around to the guitar, "-if you never, not for even one second, miss me once I'm gone, then I will be happy eternally. But we both know that won't be the case," he teased.

"You're so sure of yourself, aren't you?'

"Only with good reason." He pecked my cheek, drawing a smile to my lips, and gave the song life in the same breath, his fingers dancing in an elaborate pattern over the strings. We changed chords then, and the flow of my favourite notes, nearly each and every one I ever loved, filled every corner of the darkness in my heart. I could've sworn the room even illuminated with bright, white light. It was as if he'd written down every song that ever made me feel something, and combined them, crafting the notes with an ethereal life-force.

He whispered the next chord in my ear, moving his fingers with mine.

I wanted to separate myself from this world, try not to feel all the pain, the loss, the dying hope of the future climbing to the surface, making me want to cry. I just couldn't believe he'd be gone soon. Two weeks. Just two weeks, and I would never, ever see him again; never feel his breath on my skin again, never look into those emerald eyes, never kiss his soft, dark-pink lips.

He said it wasn't a goodbye song, but it had all the sadness of parting in the flow of its notes. How could I not cry; how could I not fall to my knees right now and beg the universe for one chance? Just one little piece of hope that there'd be a happy ending for us. I'd give anything. Anything for that.

The song floated softly to a haunting end, leaving the room silent for a heartbeat. I tried to take a breath but it came out of my lungs instead of going in, making the grief shriek from my lips.

I covered my face as David pried the guitar from my tight grip and placed it on the ground, pulling me against him on my pillows. "Shh. It's all okay, my love. Everything will be okay."

But he didn't believe that. He couldn't even convince himself.

He stroked my hair back, tucking me up like he'd never let go. "I'll never stop loving you, Ara. You know that, don't you?"

I nodded, hiccups quietening to soft sobs. "And you know I will too, right?"

He nodded against the top of my head, kissing my hair after, and the last of my strength dissolved. I closed my eyes and drifted away in his arms, allowing myself to dream, for a moment, that things were different-that David and I could be together for the rest of my life.

Our future danced around in my head like a short film-a black and white. I walked toward that boy at the end of the aisle, whose green eyes reflected the awe in his heart as they fell over my white dress, his joy dissolving my nerves, making the people in the pews disappear. It was just he and I, alone, on the edge of fulfilling one of our hearts' greatest desires.

As I finally came to stand beside him, he took my hand and smiled down at my bouquet; a soft, simple piece of completely white roses, with one immaculately blossomed red one set centre.

"What's that one for?" David's soft, warm breath brushed the top of my head, waking my mind a little.

"The part of my heart that will never belong to anyone else; the part of me that will always be only yours."

"How appropriate," he said, and shifted under me as he reached into his pocket. "I have something-a gift for you-which comes bearing the exact same sentiment."

I looked up to the golden light of the morning sun on my walls, my eyes drifting from David's lips, down the curve of his arm around my waist, to his closed fist. "What is it?"

He unfolded his fingers, revealing a pool of delicate silver chain, slightly covering a heart-shaped locket. "So you may never forget that you-" he pointed to the engraved rose, "-are in my heart."

"David, it's beautiful." I turned the locket over and ran my finger over the fine inscription on the back; though I wasn't sure, it looked like it was written in French. "What does it say?"

"Tu m'appartiens." He kissed my cheek and smoothed my hair back, leaving a cool tingle behind where he linked the chain around my neck.

As it fell onto my chest, just below my collarbones, my hand rose up instantly to hold it tight. "What does that mean?"

He slowly pressed his lips to my ear. "You belong to me."

"For as long as I live?"

"No, mon amour. For all time."

"I like that," I said, sitting back against him, and he wrapped his arms across my waist, holding me that way until the sun went down, stealing away the last day of our forever.

Chapter Twenty-Six.

Orange shadows stretched across the highway in the early morning sun, and my thoughts, distant and reflective, seemed lost far beyond the car window too. I leaned my weary head on the glass, trying to hold on to that last moment before everything changed.

Today, for the first time, I woke to the sting of normality; coffee, with its unusual ability to make everything seem okay; toast on the table when I came down, feeling the early morning chill on my bare arms, and quiet conversation with Dad-trying not to wake the rest of the house.

Even though Mike was arriving today, excitement was not the first feeling I had as my alarm startled me from peaceful slumber; it was devastation, weighed down with a tight ache in my throat called sorrow. It was kinda fitting really, that the last time I saw Mike, I was in exactly the same state of mind as I was now-miserable. I really thought Mike's coming to stay would ease the pain of losing David. But I was wrong.

Dad moved his gaze from the road and smiled at me; I knitted some semblance of a grin across my face, but the world couldn't make me smile for real, and in two weeks, when David left forever, I'd never smile again. Unless I became a vampire.

Thing was, with the days of losing him coming closer and closer, the idea of killing for love seemed less horrific. Not enough that I was ready to tell him that-or think it around him. I just...I just needed guidance-a sign.

The music in the car became louder when one of Dad's favourite songs came on, and as we turned onto the long stretch of highway toward the airport, a black billboard with a white circle of light caught my attention. I spun in my seat and read the words as we whizzed past: Let Fate Decide.

Let Fate decide?

Dad turned the radio off then, leaving me feeling exposed in the silence as an idea took shape. I sat back in my chair, smiling. Maybe if I couldn't decide what to do, I could ask a higher power to grant me an epiphany-or at least an answer. Mike loved me, but he, in no way, loved me like I loved him. It would take some miracle for his heart to change, just like the kind of miracle it would take to convince me to go with David and be a murderer. So maybe that was it; maybe that was my answer. If Mike magically confessed his undying love for me, I'd stay human, live my life, have babies, and one day die. But, if I was right, if he really only loved me as a friend, then it'd be a sign that I should throw away childish beliefs about meeting ghosts of the past in the hereafter, let go the hope of one day being a mother, discard all my moralistic beliefs, and go with David-become a vampire.

It was perfect; like rolling the dice and saying 'seven'.

Dad looked sideways at me and changed gears as we slowed, coming into the airport. "You excited?" he asked.

"Kinda nervous, actually."

"Nervous?" he said. "Why?"

Part of me wanted to tell Dad about the 'Tragic Rejection Moment' between Mike and I, but the sensible part said, "It's just been a while, is all. I'm not sure if we'll be friends like we used to."

"Honey." Dad pulled over in the pick-up zone and placed his hand on mine. "I'm sure you'll be fine. You may have been apart for a while, but Mike's been there the whole time. I've been talking to him every couple of days-giving him updates on you."

"Dad?" I groaned. "Really? I mean, I knew you were talking, but-updates? Come on-"

Dad shrugged. "He asked. I told."

"I don't know how you thought telling me that would make things better." I folded my arms and looked out the window.

"Because I don't want you to feel like he abandoned you by not pushing you to talk to him. He's just been giving you some space."

I unfolded my arms and looked beyond the glass entrance of the terminal to the people flooding the airport, gathering around the baggage collection for flight 728. Mike's flight. "He's here." I unlatched my seatbelt, ignoring the intoxicating surge of adrenaline seeping into my arms and chest, making my heart pick up about ten paces. I wished I could see him-just make him out among the crowd so I could sneak up on him-see how different he looked before he saw me.

"Go on." Dad grinned, watching me edge in my seat.

"I'll be back soon," I beamed as I sprung from the car.

People gathered their bags from the conveyer belt and hugged their families. I pushed against the tightly packed bodies, using my elbows to almost swim through the crowd, my gaze shifting side to side.

"You lost, sweetie?" a man asked when I studied his face carefully under his sandy-blonde hair.

I shook my head and hurried past him, stopping dead when I saw a guy on his phone by the Coke machine; sandy-coloured hair, broad shoulders. I squinted, jutting my neck forward as I took baby steps in his direction-seeing only flashes as the crowd of people stole my view several times.

Then, certainty flooded through me when he threw his bag over his shoulder and flipped his phone in the air before stuffing it in his back pocket.

That was him!

I stopped walking; he was so much taller than I remembered, and bigger, too. His blue shirt fit tightly around the softballs in his arms, but there was still that something in the way he held himself-a sort of tall stance with a kind of confidence that came from being an officer of authority. He looked good. Good enough that I felt my cheeks flush as the perfect word to describe him entered my head...sexy.

"Ara?" He spun around suddenly, eyes lighting up.

I couldn't move. I'd imagined this moment so many times in my mind; how I'd run into his arms and he'd lift me off the ground and kiss me-like he loved me.

However, that was always only a dream, and I left that behind-found another reason to exist. But, as I looked upon my old crush for the first time in so long, my new reason to exist seemed to fade for that one moment, and whether it was by habit or longing, I wasn't sure, but for that moment, I still wanted Mike just as bad as before.

"Ara? Baby?" He ushered me to him. "What ya waitin' for, girl, come here."

With no mind for the family walking in my path, I darted forward, forcing them to part as I launched toward Mike, barely giving him a chance to drop his bag before I jumped into his arms. We stumbled back a few steps with the force of my eager embrace-a physical reaction my steady-legged vampire could never have, unless he was pretending to be human. And I loved how human Mike was right then.

"Whoa, baby. That's happiness to see me." His widespread fingers pressed firmly against the back of my ribs.

I squeezed his neck, wrapping my legs around his hips-probably showing my undies to every dirty old man who cared to look. He just felt so good to hold; a little piece of the past, with a warmth that could only be human-as if he'd carried some of the Perth sun all the way to the U.S. with him.

I rested my cheek in his neck and let myself cry like a little girl. "I missed you so much."

Mike's arms became a band of restriction, stopping air from coming into my lungs. "I missed you too, kid."

When he went to lower me, I held on tighter. "Not yet. Just...not yet."

"It's okay, Ara. Let go. I'm not going anywhere." He unwound my arms from his neck and placed me on the ground. I pulled my dress down to cover my legs. "Let me get a look at you." He shook his head, smiling. "You've gotten thinner. Are you eating?"

"You sound like my mum." I clutched the edges of my dress in fists of nerves. "And, yes, I do eat."

"What's this?" He reached for my locket.

"Oh, um. A friend gave it to me." I took it from his hand and dropped it back into place.

"You belong to me?" His brow folded over one eye.

"Ah, yeah. It's um, a good friend?" I offered, but from the way his lips meshed tightly and his eyes narrowed, I knew he didn't like it.

"David?"

"Maybe?" The corner of my mouth turned up involuntarily.

He just blinked a few times, then drew a deep breath through his nose and placed his arm around my shoulder. "Should I be worried?"

"Mike? You've been here for a whole two seconds. Don't start."

"I don't like it, Ara. It sounds-possessive."

"You're just jealous," I said, smiling.

"Jealous, huh?" His face lit up and his eyes warmed with so much familiarity that all the pain of the separation over these last few months melted away. He grabbed my hand. "So what if I am? You've always been my best friend. Then, out of nowhere, you meet some random guy, fall in love with him, and he brands you with his mark. Now, all of a sudden, you belong to him?"

Brands me? A quick breath came cold into my lungs as I reached for the yellowing bruises on my neck-the ones from the indiscretion under the stage. But when Mike's eyes narrowed as he looked at my hand, I tensed from toes to shoulders, realising that wasn't the mark he was referring to.

He grabbed my wrist and pulled it away from my neck, gasping loudly when he saw what was hiding beneath my carefully styled, bruise-covering hair. "Who did this to you? Was it him?"