She nodded. “I had the same dream. We were on a farm, at an old house. Is that your home?”
Yearning yawned wide in his chest. “It was.”
“How is it that we share dreams?”
“It’s a gift.” However, sometimes he couldn’t reach her. “Did you take your medicine last night?”
She glanced at the countless prescriptions stacked beside the lamp and papers. “I fell asleep and missed my evening meds.”
“Your soul was lucid.”
“Are you saying I don’t dream when I’m medicated?”
He wasn’t sure. “I know little of such things, but it’s a theory.” He wanted to go to her. He wanted an invitation to hold and comfort her.
“How can you be killed?”
Her pivot into much darker topics jolted him. “Do you wish to wound me, Clara?”
She rolled her eyes. “I wish to understand how someone who believes they are immortal dies.”
He adjusted his posture, suddenly uncomfortable seated on the settee. “All right. If we’re mortally wounded and trapped in a fire, we will die. On very rare occasions, the sun can burn us alive if shelter isn’t available. Decapitation is unfixable. As is having our heart ripped out. Seldomly, a blood disorder can be transmitted to us. If ignored, some disorders can become fatal. To my knowledge, those are the only ways.”
“That’s why I only see you in the evenings.”
He nodded. “My condition limits me.”
“Will it always be that way?”
He chose his words carefully. “If I don’t accept the cure, yes.”
“And the cure is?”
He held her stare. “You.”
Keeping her expression unreadable, she looked to the window again. “You know, my grandson can read minds. I’m not sure how he does it. My daughter never believed he could because he could only hear other children’s thoughts. Whenever we would test him and think of a number or color, he would usually get it wrong. But, over the years, I’ve seen enough proof to believe he can actually do it. Cybil hasn’t spoken a word since their mother died, but Dane knows what she’s thinking most of the time. We believe in God but not in Santa Clause. Our government steadily searches for signs of life in outer space, yet we arrogantly assume we are top of the food chain here on Earth.” Her eyes narrowed as she returned her sharp stare to him. “Are humans the most advanced species, Jonas?”
“No.”
“And what, exactly, do you call yourself and your son?”
“Immortal.”
Her lips firmed, her stare holding him prisoner as she studied him. “And your main diet?”
“Blood.”
She kept her expression blank, but her eyes moved as she appeared to process his claim. “Like Dracula?”
Jonas once read of the fictional creature. “Only when our humanity is forsaken. We live peacefully, removed from society, and devoted to a gentle set of values.”
Her glance moved over his stained attire of a simple shirt, black trousers, and suspenders. “Amish?”
“Yes.”
“Clever.”
“We do it for our protection.”
“I imagine you do it for ours, as well. I’ve seen you lose your temper.”
He dropped his gaze. “I apologize.” He had no memory of any such outburst. “My condition leaves me especially irritable. I’m not always in control of my actions.”
“So Cain has explained. He says you won’t intentionally hurt me, that it would hurt you to cause me any suffering. Is that true?”
“When I’m in command of myself, yes.”
She noticeably relaxed with a deep breath that stirred a brisk cough. “Tell me more about your condition.”
“I’ve been called. God has decided it’s my time to mate.”
Her brows lifted. “Your kind doesn’t usually mate?”
“This is different. The calling is a sacrament among our kind. The bond goes beyond intercourse.”
She held up a hand. “And your claiming God called you to me?”
“Yes. Once called, a clock starts. My time is running out. Every day I will get worse until my humanity disappears. The only cure is claiming my mate.”
“I assume this bond you speak of is a little more involved than a secret handshake.”
The side of his mouth quirked up in amusement. “Yes.”
She stared at a stack of papers and bills on the table. “There’s no other cure?”
“No.”
Her intuitive gaze returned to him and narrowed. “You don’t want this?”
He couldn’t agree or disagree. “My soul recognizes you as my salvation, and my instincts have lured me here like an addict. But my heart…”
“Belongs to someone else.” When he nodded, she said, “And my heart will always belong to Arthur.”
He growled at the thought of another male touching her.
“Do I need to get the gun?”
Seething, he curled his hands into fists and forced his temper to calm.
“What’s really happening here, Jonas? You don’t wish this. I’m an old lady. I’m dying. You, from what your son tells me, are very much in love with your wife. Why do this?”
“I have no choice. To ignore the call is to choose death and damnation over eternal salvation.”
“And if we bond, as you say is required, I’ll be like you? Immortal?”