"Adrian," I said, putting my hand on his arm to get his attention. He cocked an eyebrow in question, his eyes going sapphire. I lifted my hand, about to ask him if he was going to be all right, but stopped when his eyes went sky blue. I blinked a couple of times, then put my hand back on his arm.

Twin irises of the purest sapphire regarded me with growing confusion.

"This is so cool! Your eyes change color when I touch you. Look!"

I lifted my hand again. Adrian rolled his (summer blue) eyes and started to turn away. I leaned forward and put my hand on his chest, over his heart. His eyes turned navy.

"Hoo! You're like a giant mood ring! I wonder if I can make different colors show up depending where I touch you."

Adrian followed my speculative gaze to his fly, jumping up to stand in front of me in an aggressive pose, arms crossed over his chest, legs spread. "I am not a mood ring! I am not a toy! I am dangerous and feared by all! You are not to treat me in such a flip, irreverent manner—"

I put my hand on his thigh, close to his groin, but not actually touching naughty parts. His eyes turned a dark midnight blue.

"This is so fun!" I giggled, admittedly a bit less than sane after the very strange twenty-four hours I'd spent. "I could touch you all day! I wonder what would happen if I were to kiss you…"

"There will be no more kissing," he answered on a growl. "Kissing leads to the fifth step, and I refuse to go any further."

"Why?" I asked, tipping my head to the side as I gave him a once-over, starting at the mid-calf-high black boots, moving up over the tightly fitting black jeans, the caress of silk across his stomach and chest, to the width of his shoulders as highlighted by the long black duster. I smiled into eyes as black and shiny as onyx. "You said that if I was this Beloved person, I would be able to save your soul. Considering I can't charm that curse that binds you, it seems to me that I'm pretty much your get-out-of-jail-free card. So why aren't you kissing my feet and begging me to save your soul?"

He sighed again and sat down next to me, silent for a few minutes before he said, "You aren't my Beloved. You can't be her. My Beloved does not exist."

Pain, disappointment, and something very much like regret fought for superiority within me. I put my hand on his, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. "You mean she's dead? I'm so sorry, Adrian. I had no idea. You must have been devastated."

He looked down to where my fingers gently caressed his, not saying anything, but I saw the sorrow in his eyes. I looked away, but from my peripheral vision I examined the red pattern that twisted around his torso. Even if I wanted to charm the curse, I knew it would be beyond my embryonic skills, skills that had been stunted before they even had a chance to grow. There was no way I could do what he wanted, but now it seemed I didn't even have to make the choice about whether or not I wanted to bind myself to him in order to salvage his soul.

Which was a shame, because despite his fierce appearance and gruesome reputation, I was beginning to believe he was a man well worth saving.

"She did not die."

"I'm a little confused," I said slowly, still stroking his fingers. "She didn't die, but there is no one for you? I saw into you, really deep into you, remember, and you don't have a soul. If this woman didn't die, what happened to her?"

"Nothing," he said, his voice rough with emotion. His hand twisted under mine so that our fingers were twined. "My Beloved does not exist because I am not allowed to have one. To have a Beloved would imply that there is hope for me, and I can assure you from many centuries of experience, hope is one grace that has forsaken me."

"You can't say that," I said again, at a loss as to what I could do to relieve the pain shadowing his beautiful eyes. How could I make him believe I was his hope when I myself wasn't sure I wanted to take on that role? "Adrian, I really wish I could help you, I honestly do. But as I told you back at the castle, I can't charm. You saw what happened when I drew that ward—something I truly didn't know I remembered—but it's pretty clear to me that my brain does not want me messing around with all that woo-woo stuff. I know you're hoping I'll lift the curse, but I can't. I wish I could, but I can't."

"You have the ability," he insisted, his fingers tightening on mine. "You have the power. I see it in you. You are frightened, but it is a foolish emotion. No," he said, forestalling me as I was about to protest his high-handed dictates. "There is nothing to debate—you must charm the curse. There is no other alternative."

"You can't make me charm the curse," I pointed out. "I don't remember much from the few times I chatted with my friend's Wiccan aunt who told me I was gifted with special abilities, but I do clearly remember her saying that I had to want to use my skills in order for them to work. You can't force me."

"I can, and I will. I do not wish to force you to do anything, but about this, I am immovable. It is too important." His grip on my fingers was painful, but the agony in his eyes made my heart bleed. Through the touch of our hands I could feel the need within him, the endless torment that filled him with blackness, a torment that he was confident I could end. I shivered at the silent desperation in his eyes, turning my head so I could look away.

"Tell me about what a Beloved does." I couldn't charm the curse without destroying myself in the process, and quite likely him as well, but perhaps there was something I could do to help him. Maybe I could help relieve the suffering and anguish that gripped him so tightly. The time had come for a decision, and suddenly there was no choice to be made. I knew what I had to do—what I was meant to do. "And before you say it, yeah, I know, you don't think you're allowed to have one because you're the big bad Betrayer and all, but maybe, just maybe I've been given the nod to pinch hit for whoever your Beloved was supposed to be, but who isn't, because of the whole curse thing. If you understand what I mean."

I could feel him studying me as I watched people at the far end of the waiting area. We were seated in an isolated corner, tucked away from the hustle and bustle that made up life at the train station.

"Once a Beloved has Joined with her Dark One, his soul is redeemed. She becomes his lodestone, his reason for living. He cannot exist without her."

"You mean he's her love slave?" I couldn't help but smile at the thought of Adrian being wrapped around anyone's finger. "Sounds cool to me! Wanna give it a whirl?"

"He cannot exist, because to drink blood from anyone but his Beloved is poison," he answered with a heated look. "He is not a slave to her, but the two are bound together for eternity."

"So the Beloved becomes immortal as well?" A wistful desire filled me to be made whole, to be able to use my affected limbs as they were meant to be used, to never have to suffer the stares and quickly averted eyes when the weak muscles on the left side of my face were noticed. Surely such a gift would be worth regular blood donations. My eyes slid to Adrian, who was looking at our entwined fingers. It would certainly be no hardship to have him around me for eternity. I doubted I would ever get tired of looking at him, and the strange tension I felt around him, the promise of something profound, left me yearning for the completion I was sure we'd find together.

"Yes. She is made immortal once the final step of Joining is made."

"Hmm." The idea was starting to sound better and better with each passing moment. Adrian by my side for eternity, a body without weaknesses, all the time I needed to study the past… oh, yes, the thought of being his Beloved presented a glittering temptation.

"Nell, I will not allow you to become my Beloved."