"So where'd you like best?" I ask, having just cleaned my plate of every last morsel and feeling the beginnings of a nice languid fullness.

"Right here." He smiles, having barely eaten a thing but making a pretty good show of moving his food all around.

I squint my eyes, not quite believing it. "I mean, sure, Orange County's nice, but it can't possibly compare to all of those exciting European cities, can it?"

"Seriously. I'm very happy here." He nods, looking right at me.

"And you weren't happy in Rome, Paris, New Delhi, or New York?"

He shrugs, his eyes suddenly tinged with sadness as they drift away from mine and he takes a sip of his strange red drink.

"And what exactly is that?" I ask, peering at the bottle.

"You mean this?" he smiles, holding it up for me to see.

"Secret family recipe." He swirls the contents around, and I watch as the color glows and sparks as it runs up the sides and splashes back down. Looking like a cross between lightning, wine, and blood mixed with the tiniest hint of diamond dust.

"Can I try it?" I ask, not entirely sure that I want to, but still curious.

He shakes his head. "You won't like it. Tastes just like medicine. But that's probably because it is medicine."

My stomach sinks as I gape at him, imagining a whole host of incurable diseases, horrible afflictions, grave ailments—I knew he was too good to be true.

But he just shakes his head and laughs as he reaches for my hand. "No worries. I just get a little low on energy sometimes. And this helps."

"Where do you get it?:' I squint, searching for a label, an imprint, some kind of mark, but the bottle is clear, smooth, and appears almost seamless.

He smiles. "I told you, secret family recipe," he says, taking a long deep swig and. finishing it off. Then he pushes away from the table and his still-full plate, as he says, "Shall we go for a swim?"

"Aren't you supposed to wait an hour after eating?" I ask, peering at him.

But he just smiles and reaches for my hand. "Don't worry. I won't let you drown."

Since we spent most of the day in the pool, we decide to hang in the Jacuzzi instead. And when our fingers and toes start to resemble small prunes, we wrap ourselves in oversized towels and head up to my room.

He follows me into my bathroom. I drop my damp towel on the floor, then he comes up behind me, pulls me to him, and holds me so close our bodies meld right together. And when his lips brush across the nape of my neck, I know I better lay down some ground rules while my brain is still working.

"Um, you're welcome to stay," I mumble, pulling away, my cheeks burning with embarrassment when I meet his amused, gaze. "I mean, what I meant to say was, I want you to stay. I do. But, well, I'm not sure that we should—you know—"

Oh god, what am I saying? Um, hello, like he doesn't know what I mean; Like he wasn't the one getting pushed away in the cave and just about everywhere else. What is with you?

What are you doing? Any girl would kill for a moment like this, a long, lazy weekend with no parents or chaperonesand yet, here I am, enforcing some stupid set of rules—for no good reason.

He places his finger under my chin and lifts my face until it's level with his. "Ever, please, we've been over this," he whispers, tucking my hair behind my ear and bringing his lips to my neck. "I know how to wait, really. I've already waited this long to find you—I can wait even more."

With Damen's warm body curled around mine, and his reassuring breath in my ear, I fall right to sleep. And even though I was worried I'd be way too freaked by his presence to get any rest, it's the warm secure feeling of having him right there beside me that helps me drift off. But when I wake at 3:45 A.M., only to discover he's no longer there, I throw the covers aside and rush to the window, reliving that moment in the cave all over again as I search the drive for his car, surprised to find it's still there.

"Looking for me?" he asks.

I turn to find him standing in the doorway, my heart beating wildly, my face gone crimson.

"Oh, I—I rolled over and you weren't there, and—" I press my lips, feeling ridiculous, small, embarrassingly needy.

"I went downstairs for some water." He smiles, taking my hand and leading me back to the bed.

But as I lay down beside him, my hand drifts to his side, brushing across sheets so cold and abandoned, it seems he's been gone for a much longer time.

The second time I wake, I'm alone again. But when I hear Damen banging around in the kitchen, I pull on my robe and head downstairs to investigate.

"How long have you been up?" I ask, gazing at a spotless kitchen, the previous night's mess having vanished, replaced by a lineup of donuts, bagels, and cereals that didn't originate in my cupboard.

"I'm an early riser." He shrugs. "So I thought I'd clean up a bit before running to the store. I may have gone a little overboard, but I didn't know what you'd want." He smiles, coming around the counter and kissing me on the cheek.

I sip from the glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice he sets before me and ask, "Want some? Or are you still fasting?"

"Fasting?" He lifts his brow and gazes at me.

I roll my eyes. "Please. You eat less than anyone I know. You just sip your... medicine and push your food all around. I feel like a complete pig next to you."