"Yes, I know, but child, I am not a vampire."

"Am I here so you can kill me?"

"No"

"Are you going to tell me why I'm here?"

"Eventually"

She wrinkled her nose. "Are you always so cryptic? Hey, if you aren't a vampire, what are you?"

Chevalier had been waiting for this. "I am a heku."

"A what?"

"A heku. My kind was here long before your ancestors were mere specks on the ground. We've watched civilization grow and have tried to stay out of the way. Mythical creatures of the night, the vampires, werewolves, ziang shi, zombies... they were all designed to explain our presence, but we are none of those." It wasn't nearly the entire story, but it was enough for now.

"I should have known that you aren't a vampire. Your fangs aren't long enough."

"Fangs?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do. However, my teeth get the job done."

"That's nasty."

He removed the tray, and she laid back against the soft down pillows, her sore muscles complaining.

"It's my turn," he said, pulling the rocking chair closer to the bed.

"For what?" She tensed.

Chevalier braced himself, and for a brief moment, he wondered if her reaction was any indication that the burning pain would begin. "For questions. I have some for you."

She relaxed some, and in return, so did he.

He started his well thought out plan, which began simply as getting to know as much about her family as he could. "I want to know about your mother."

"My mother?"

"Yes"

She looked up at him, confused. "She's been dead for quite a while."

"Yes, I know, but what do you know about her?" He smiled warmly, making sure his sharp teeth didn't show.

"Well, she died when I was two. She was in a car wreck."

That answered one of his questions, about how truthful Sam and her dad had been to her. This would complicate some of his plans. He would have to start further back in her history if he was to make her understand her abilities.

"And your brother?"

She frowned. "I don't have a brother. I'm an only child."

"So sorry, my mistake. Do go on."

"Mom wasn't very old when she met my dad. He inherited the ranch from his father. All I really know about her is that she had a way with animals and that she was very beautiful."

Chevalier nodded. He had no doubts about that. "I see. What about Sam? Do you know much about him?"

"Sam... what's not to say about Sam? He's taken care of the ranch and my dad for as long as I can remember. Dad once said that Sam's dad worked for my Grandpa."

He leaned closer to her as she continued, her eyes suddenly faraway.

"He's always been a friend. I remember when I was six, and a strange man followed me home from school. Dad was out with the cattle, so it was just Sam when I got home. I was so afraid." She shuddered slightly. "He held me like his own daughter while I calmed down, and then he left me with hot chocolate and instructions to stay put. When he got back, the man was gone."

"Strange man?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Did a lot of strangers follow you home?"

Again, she nodded. "Dad said I had a magnetic personality." Her face was suddenly serious. "He warned me to stay away from them, but there always seemed to be someone there, hiding in the shadows. Sam helped them stay away somehow. He is like a grandpa to me."

"Did anyone ever tell you anything about the strangers?"

She looked over at him. "How could they know anything about them? They were just strangers."

He shrugged. "I was just asking."

"Dad once mentioned that Mom had the same problem. I guess everyone does if it comes down to it." She looked back up at the ceiling.

Chevalier wondered if he could ever convince her how wrong she was. He noticed how she winced a bit, her breath catching.

"That's enough for tonight. It's time for some pain meds, it seems." He stood up and grabbed the syringes from the bedside table. When he turned back, Emily was watching him, her eyes a mixture of pain and fear.

Suddenly, her face dissolved into a relaxed gaze and her eyes became unfocused and glassy.

Thinking quickly, he yelled, "Emily, stop!"

She jumped slightly, her eyes coming back into focus and staring at him. The look of fear had returned. "Don't come near me with those."

He fought to control his breathing, aware that he had been only seconds from the burning pain. "It's morphine for the pain."

She shook her head. "No."

He hesitated, afraid to move near her. "Are you saying that you aren't hurting?"

Emily set her jaw. "No shots."

"Are you hurting or not?"

She flung the covers back and threw her legs off the bed, grasping her side and groaning when the world began to spin. She was barely aware that he was at her side. The slight pinching in her arm let her know she had lost. She'd had the pain medication. Emily began to protest but felt herself fall back into unconsciousness. She fought to surface, but soon, the morphine took over.

He laid her back in the bed and covered her with the blankets, his hands shaking. He flashed to the front room with his hands against the windowsill. Chevalier's entire body was tense, realizing how close he had come to becoming a pile of ash. He thought of how suddenly it happened, her fear turning to nothingness. None of her attackers had a chance. He was sure they ran as soon as they were done with her, too far away to stop what was inevitable.

Once his nerves calmed and his hands were steady, he stood up and gazed out the window. The snowstorm had added at least 24 inches of new snow. He couldn't leave that day if he wanted to. Even the snowcat would have problems on that night. Sighing heavily, he returned to Emily's room and sat in the rocking chair. He watched her sleep, again marveling at her intense beauty. With the patience that centuries granted him, he waited, going over the plans once more in his head.

Emily slowly opened her eyes. She still felt groggy from the morphine. She looked around the room and noticed that she was alone. Sunlight was shining in the window, and she wondered how long she'd been asleep this time.

She sat up as quietly as she could, took the remaining syringes out of the drawer, and had them well hidden before Chevalier appeared in the doorway with another tray of food.

He smiled. "How are you feeling?"

She turned and glared at him. "Drugged, thank you very much."

Chevalier found this funny. "Well, do you want to eat before you begin yelling at me for it?"

"How do I know you aren't poisoning the food?" Studying his face, she frowned.

Chevalier chuckled, "Child, if I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be here right now."

She grimaced at the title 'child' and then sat down slowly into a chair by the frozen window. "Fine."

He set the tray down on the small table and looked out the window. "The snow is letting up."

Emily ignored him as she ate, her mind going over her possible options. After she finished, she looked up at him. "You have no right keeping me drugged."

He raised an eyebrow. "Who is going to stop me? Besides, it's not like I'm being mean. You need pain medication to recover."

"I'm feeling fine."

He smiled. "Sure you are. I need you in perfect shape soon, and I'll do what I need to, to get you there."

"What for?"

"I will tell you in due time." He walked over and stoked the fire.

She stood up while his back was turned and fought to keep from groaning. The pain seemed a little better, but turning incorrectly caused extreme pain. "Where are my clothes?"

"Are you going somewhere?" It infuriated her that his tone was light and still amused.

"Yes, I'm leaving."

Chevalier stood up and turned to look at her. The light from the large window behind her illuminated the white nightgown and showed the silhouette of her body underneath it. He composed himself before answering. "No, you aren't."

Emily put her hands on her hips. "You said I could leave when I wanted."

"No, I said when you wanted and when you could handle the trip."

"I can now."

"No, you can't. Why don't you lie back down before you pass out?" He noticed the color was draining from her face.

Emily didn't answer. The darkness was invading her vision again, and her head began to throb. She took a deep breath and steadied herself against the chair until it had passed. When she was sure she wouldn't faint, she turned her hauntingly beautiful green eyes to him. "I'm not going to pass out."

Chevalier shrugged and went over to the nightstand. He opened the drawer and began to reach for a syringe when he noticed they were missing.

"Where are they?" he asked, knowing she wasn't going to tell him.

"Gone"

"Damnit, Emily, where are they?" The anger in his voice made her take a step back, putting the wall to her back.

"Gone," she said again, a little more timidly.

In an instant, Chevalier was at her with his hands on the wall at her shoulders, pinning her. She jerked her head away, her hands rising defensively to cover her face. The gesture infuriated him, not with her but with the reason she did it.

He took her wrists gently in his hands and pinned them at her sides. Chevalier placed his cheek against hers. Breathing in her scent, he flicked her earlobe lightly with his tongue and was pleased that she shivered. "I will never hit you," he whispered into her ear.

He pulled his head back to look directly into her eyes. He locked her gaze and concentrated. It was only a few moments before her breathing matched his. His eyes bored deeper into hers, and he whispered, "Where is the morphine, Emily?"

He could see the conflict in her face and could tell she was struggling to unlock his gaze, to regain control. Softer, he asked again, "Emily, where is the morphine?"

He was amazed at her restraint. Mortals normally became his to control with just a single glance, yet she took immense concentration.

Her voice was soft. His acute ears barely picked up her words when she spoke, "In the bottom of the dresser."

He responded by gently brushing his lips across hers. Emily pressed her body slightly against his, arching her neck up toward him. He couldn't control it any more. He pressed his lips against hers and felt the warmth of her touch. He let his instincts forward, the aching he had in his body for her coming out.

Chevalier let go of her hands, moving one to the small of her back and one to her neck. He pulled her in closer to him. She didn't hesitate, and her body fit closely into his. His lips pried hers open. The smell and taste of her breath sent spasms deep within him. Emily bit his bottom lip gently.

Suddenly, she tensed. Her entire body became rigid, and she placed her hands on his chest, trying to push him away from her. She breathed heavily. "Please, I can't."

The instinct within him demanded that he take her, and he refused to move as his mind fought within itself. She pushed harder against him, even though her arm and ribs screamed in pain.

"Chevalier, don't," she begged.

He took a deep breath and stepped back, caging the beast that had nearly taken over. As his breathing slowed, he trusted himself to look at her. She was still close enough that he could smell the blood pumping quickly through her veins. Emily was watching him, her face a mixture of embarrassment and confusion, and her eyes began to water.

Chevalier moved to her, pulling her into an embrace with her face pressed against his chest. He caressed her cheek with his finger and pressed his lips softly against the top of her head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." He could feel her wet tears against his skin.

"Please, lay down," he encouraged. "I'll behave. I promise."

She nodded against his chest and pulled away from him, refusing to meet his eyes. When she laid down, she admitted to herself that the bed felt nice. The pain in her side lessened as she rested against the soft pillows.