“And then there are those who relish the power they have over us.” Kisten’s lips thinned from a past anger, and he dropped his hands from me. “The clever ones who know that our need to be accepted and trusted runs so deep it can be crippling. Those who play upon that, knowing we will do almost anything for that invitation to take the blood we desperately crave. The ones who exalt in the hidden domination a lover can exert, feeling it elevates them to an almost godlike status. Those are the ones who want to be us, thinking it will make them powerful. And we use them, too, casting them aside with less regret than the sheep unless we grow to hate them, upon which we make them one of us in cruel restitution.”

He cupped my jaw with his hand. It was warm, and I didn’t pull away. “And then there are the rare ones who know love, who understand it. Who freely give of themselves, demanding only a return of that love, that trust.” His faultless blue eyes never blinked, and I held my breath. “It can be beautiful, Rachel, when there is trust and love. No one is bound. No one loses his or her will. No one becomes less. Both become more than they can be alone. But it is so rare, so beautiful when it happens.”

I shivered, wondering if he was lying to me.

The soft touch of his hand down my jaw as he pulled away sent my blood humming. But he didn’t notice, his attention on the coming dawn visible out the window. “I feel bad for Ivy,” he whispered. “She doesn’t want to accept her need for belonging, even as it charts her every move. She wants that perfect love but thinks she isn’t deserving of it.”

“She doesn’t love Piscary,” I whispered. “You said there was no beauty without trust and love.”

Kisten’s eyes met mine. “I wasn’t talking about Piscary.”

His attention went to the clock above the sink, and when he took a backward step, I knew he was leaving. “It’s getting late,” he said, his distant voice telling me he was already mentally somewhere else. Then his eyes cleared and he was back. “I enjoyed our date,” he said as he drew away. “But next time, there isn’t going to be a limit on what I can spend.”

“You’re assuming there’s going to be a next time?” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

He met my smile with his own, the new bristles on his face catching the light. “Maybe.”

Kisten started for the front door, and I automatically followed to see him out. In my stockings, my feet were as soundless as his on the hardwood floor. The sanctuary was quiet, not a peep from my desk. Still not having said anything, Kisten shrugged into his wool coat.

“Thank you,” I said as I handed him the long leather coat that he had let me borrow.