Midnight 01 - Luisa's Desire

similar circles in Paris and Seville. At least one more upyr lived in Florence, but we rarely did more than nod in passing. He was different, that one, dangerous. I suspect he was an elder."
     
    "An elder?"
     
    "One of the old ones who knows how to perform the change. My master claimed there were only two—himself and his student, Nim Wei—but I think he may have been wrong."
     
    His thumb smoothed the orbit around her eye. "And you do not age once you are made?"
     
    She shook her head. "Not physically."
     
    He leaned so close she thought he meant to examine her cell by cell. Knowing her passivity would increase his trust, she allowed him the inquisition. Remaining still was not easy. His scent curled around her while his breath brushed her mouth like velvet. An inch would have brought them to a kiss.
     
    She made a sound she had not intended, soft and hungry in her throat.
     
    At once he pulled away. "Forgive me," he said, reluctantly drawing his hand out of her hair. He rubbed it across his chest as if it itched. "I have been rude."
     
    "Some would say a creature like me deserves no better."
     
    "Some lie. All living beings deserve respect."
     
    She could see he meant it. Dazed for more reasons than she could name, she obeyed his gesture to step inside. The room was small: a stone floor, a low, beamed ceiling. One arrow-slit window overlooked a snowy courtyard. The only furniture was an unlit altar and a pile of squared-off dusty cushions. Luisa assumed these were what she'd sleep on.
     
    "I will bring blankets," Martin said, "and a brazier."
     
    She smiled at him. "That would be kind. I think I must have been changed to suit the climate of my birth. I can stand more cold than most, but we do not have these extremes at home." A burst of childish laughter drew her to the window. A group of boys were engaged in a kicking game with a ball. The shadows were long now, the sun sinking swiftly behind the peaks. After all she had been through, the lingering light did not affect her much.
     
    "I hope the chelas will not bother you," Martin said. "They like to play there between their lessons."
     
    "Chelas?"
     
    "That is what we call young boys. Older students are trapas."
     
    "And you?" She turned to find him a step behind her.
     
    His gaze remained on the scene outside. "I am also trapa. I have not been here very long. A year only. There were… reasons I could not join the lamasery as a boy. But someday I hope to be gelong." If she had not been watching closely, she would have missed his tiny scowl. "Gelong is a special ordination. My teacher will tell me when I am ready."
     
    "You seem quite advanced to me. Your powers—"
     
    He waved her words away with his hand. "Having power is not the same as being holy."
     
    "Certainly not in my case," she said with a coaxing smile.
     
    Martin did not return it. "I have been a monk before," he said. "That is why my progress has been swift."
     
    "Before?"
     
    "In previous lives." He glanced at her, weighing her response to this exotic claim. "My memories drew me back to this place, to my teacher. He has never failed to guide me, even at my most stubborn. Always he took me in."
     
    Devotion rang in his voice. As if he heard it himself, and judged it unsuitable for display, he pulled himself straighter and stepped away. "Unless you have further need of me, I will take my leave."
     
    She inclined her head. "I await your teacher's convenience."
     
    He paused beneath the lintel of the door. "If I bolt this, will it keep you in?"
     
    She could not restrain a laugh. No one else would have expected her to be honest. "Probably not, but I pose no immediate danger to your colleagues."
     
    "I can bring food," he offered. "Tea."
     
    "And I could pretend to drink it, but it would not sustain me."
     
    She watched him take this in, his thoughtfulness an echo of his teacher.
     
    "Will you become ill if you do not eat?" he asked.
     
    "There is time before that happens."
     
    "But you will not be comfortable."
     
    "No," she agreed, "I will not be comfortable."
     
    He nodded at this. She sensed he also heard what she had not said: that she was more likely to take what she needed by force than to allow herself to grow much weaker. At any rate, she would try. From what she had seen of him, the outcome of a confrontation between them would not be sure.
     
    Only when he pulled the door shut behind him did she remember where she'd first seen eyes his shade of