Juliet Immortal

might make you rethink everything you—”
    “I don’t care what you—”
    “I’ll tell you the truth this time, everything about the worldof the Mercenaries. There is nothing to prevent me,” Romeo says, flicking on the companion to the lamp in my hand. Light blushes into the room, illuminating his features, revealing a look of such sincerity that something inside me demands that I listen. “For me, hell is a place on earth. I inhabit the mortal realm but enjoy none of the comforts of humanity. I wear any corpse I choose but am never a part of the world.”
    “I weep for you.”
    “Perhaps you would, if you understood.” He falls onto the couch, his handsome face suddenly haggard. “I can no longer experience physical sensation. Nothing. Not ever. Not in these bodies we inhabit when we are called, not in the bodies I steal when I am alone. No taste, no smell, no touch. I believe the high Mercenaries allow me to see and hear only because I require those senses to function.”
    “No scent? None at all?”
    “None,” he says.
    “Not even my
sweet breath
?” I ask, sarcasm ripening each word. “So you lied about that, as well?”
    “A white lie.” He shrugs. “As is the case with many compliments men give their women.”
    “I am not
your
woman, and I couldn’t care less if—”
    “Listen to me. Hear me.” He jumps back to his feet. “I can feel no pleasure. Very little pain. No hunger, no thirst, not the sun or the rain on my skin, not the shiver of touch, not the pressure of a kiss. Wine passes through me without effect, not even to make me sleep. I can’t sleep, not ever,” he whispers, the madness in his eyes almost enough to make me believe him. Imagining an existence such as he describes makes my soul scream. “There is nothing but a deep, aching emptiness that I would do anything to escape.”
    “Then escape. Put an end to yourself.” I refuse to pity him, not when he’s brought it all upon himself. “I’ll fetch you a knife from the kitchen. If you cut out your heart, that should—”
    “I can’t. The Mercenaries don’t hesitate to punish their converts. The high ones will torture me if I try. They will trap me in a corpse but deny me the release of death, returning my senses only so that I might know what it feels like for a human body to rot all around me. I’ve seen it happen to others. They make us watch such things … as cautionary displays.”
    I fight to keep my face blank, to force the image of Romeo’s real body—already rife with decay—from my mind. I can’t think about what that vision might mean right now. I can’t risk letting Romeo know my secrets.
    “The only happiness I will ever have is what I steal. Now is the time to steal it, the time to take back what we lost.” He steps closer, and this time, I let him. “I could have killed you a hundred times. If I had, I would have been granted a higher position in the order, but I couldn’t end your life.”
    “Because I didn’t let you.”
    “Because the part of me that remembers what it was like all those lifetimes ago still cares for you … loves you.”
    I choke on my next breath.
    “I know you think you can’t love me. But you must know how sorry I am. So sorry,” he says, his voice thick, a shine in his stolen eyes.
    Rage surges beneath my skin, so hot it feels as if it will burn me from the inside out. “Don’t you dare cry for me. Don’t you dare,” I warn in a tight whisper.
    “We must love each other again. Now.” He continues as if he hasn’t heard me. I shiver.
Love now
. I heard the same wordsearlier today, from my own lips. But surely she … 
I
 … couldn’t mean that I’m supposed to love Romeo. It’s … impossible. “I found the spell years ago—the one that will free us—but I had to wait until a sign came that it was time. I believe I’ve seen such a sign.”
    I bite my lip. The temptation to speak, to tell him the things I saw nearly rips me in two. But I can’t. He is the enemy. He is my murderer, a monster, and a liar of unparalleled skill.
    “For the first time in all my centuries,” he says, “I’m certain they aren’t listening. There isn’t a single Mercenary wandering these streets. There should be a dozen or more in a town this size.”
    “Really? And how would you know?”
    “Mercenary converts can see the auras of all transformed people. Black for our kind, gold for yours, pink and red for our darling lovers,” he says, obviously