He had left her again. There was no note this time, no written words of farewell.

With grim certainty she knew he would never come back.

With equal certainty she knew she would not let him go.

It was Monday, and there were no performances scheduled. She straightened her apartment, wrote Jennifer a short letter that would account for her absence but explained nothing. Next, she penned a letter to her parents, telling them she loved them, saying she'd met a man and they were on their way to Europe for an extended holiday.

She took a long, hot bubble bath, shaved her legs, washed her hair, and then she stood in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door, studying her face and figure, knowing that, if her plans went as intended, she'd never see her face again?wondering, in a distant part of her mind, how a woman applied lipstick and mascara without the benefit of a looking glass.

Before she could lose her courage, she ran down the stairs to the garage, got into her car, and drove toward Jason's house.

She lingered on the porch, watching the sun go down in a blaze of color, imprinting the image on her mind.

And then, resolutely, she turned her back on the myriad colors splashed across the sky. Taking a deep breath, she took the heavy brass key from her pocket and opened the front door.

The inside of the house was as still as death.

Her footsteps made no sound as she made her way to the service porch, but she was sure the thudding of her heart could be heard as far away as Catalina.

As she'd done once before, she sat down and waited for him to rise, wondering, as she did so, if there was some kind of vampire law that would prohibit them from sleeping in a bed.

She felt her heartbeat increase as the basement door swung open, and then she forgot everything else but her love for Jason, and her reason for being there.

So, he thought, he had not imagined her presence, after all.

"Leanne," he said after a lengthy silence. "Why are you here?"

"You know why." She tilted her head back, baring her throat to his gaze. "Do it, Jason, do it now."

"No!" He turned away from her, his hands knotted into fists. He recoiled as if in pain when he felt her hand caress his back.

"I love you, Jason. If you can't, or won't, try to live in my world, then I'll live in yours."

"No. No. No!" He whirled around, his eyes blazing. "How can you even consider it?"

"Because I want to be with you!" She placed her hands on his chest and gazed up at him, her eyes filled with love. "I love you. I don't want to live without you."

He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and then he took her hands in his.

"Look at me, Leanne," he said quietly. "Take a good look. Tell me what you see."

"I see the man I love, the man I've waited for my whole life."

"No. I'm not a man, and I can't pretend to be one any longer, not even for you."

He saw the protest rise in her eyes, and he silenced her with a look. "Face it, beloved. I'm a ghoul, a monster."

"No."

He lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed her palms, first one, then the other. "Go home, Leanne."

"I won't leave you, Jason. Nothing you can say will make me change my mind."

It was tempting, so tempting. He closed his eyes as he contemplated the ecstasy of bestowing the Dark Gift on her, of knowing that, as a creature of the night, she would be his forever. Never again would he be alone, his existence empty. She would bring him the sunlight he had not seen in three hundred years. He would know love and laughter, the taste of her kisses, the sound of her voice. They could travel the earth together. He could show her the wonders of the ancient world, take her to London, to Paris, to Rome. And perhaps, if he loved her enough, she'd never miss the sunlight, never regret forfeiting the opportunity to bear children?

He held the image close, savoring it, even though he knew he would not do it. Every day of his miserable existence, he had cursed Marguerite for what she'd done, for the mortal life she had stolen from him. He would not selfishly bequeath the same horrible fate to the woman he loved.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, drinking in the sight of her beloved face, knowing that, after this night, he would never see her again.

"I love you, Jason." She spoke the words with the simple faith of a child, as if they could make everything all right?

"And I love you," he replied fervently.

"And you'll stay with me forever?"

Tenderly, he brushed his knuckles over her cheek. "Only death will part us, beloved."

At his words Leanne shivered violently, as if someone had filled her veins with ice water. She knew then what he meant to do, knew it as surely as she knew the sun would rise in the morning.

"No!"

"Yesterday, you asked me for one last night. Now I ask the same of you."

"Jason, you can't mean to do it."

"You cannot stop me."

"I will not live without you!" She pummeled his chest with her fists. "Do you hear me, Jason Blackthorne, I will not live without you! If you kill yourself, you'll be killing me, too."

She looked up at him, her eyes awash with pain, though only a single tear trickled down her cheek.

He watched it for a moment, and then, compelled by an urge he could neither understand nor deny, he bent down and licked the tiny drop of moisture from her cheek.

For a moment he gazed into her eyes, and then he reeled back, his whole body on fire.

"Jason, what is it?"

He couldn't answer; he could only stare at her, the salty taste of that single tear incinerating his tongue, burning through every fiber of his being like a shaft of liquid sunlight.

He heard her voice sobbing his name as from a great distance, but he lacked the power to answer. He dropped to his hands and knees, his head hanging, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Go." He forced the word between clenched teeth.

"No, I won't leave you." She knelt beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder, only to jerk it away when the heat radiating from his flesh burned her palm. "What is it? What's happening?"

"Go!" With an effort he raised his head and met her gaze. "I'm dying."

She shook her head, her eyes filled with denial. "That's impossible."

"It's true." He groaned low in his throat as his body convulsed with agony. His blood was on fire; his skin seemed to be shrinking, melting. "Leave me." He took a deep shuddering breath. "Please, Leanne, if you love me, go from here."

She was sobbing now, her tears falling to the floor, splashing like liquid fire over his hands.

"Please, leave me," he implored her. "I don't want you to see?"

Using the chair for support, she stood up. If he wanted her to go, she would go, but only as far as the other room.

"I love you," she whispered brokenly. "I'll always love you."

But he was past hearing.