Lucky for him, they couldn’t, though the gun in her hand was problematic.
“I should kill you right here.”
“I would never hurt you, Lisa.”
“Shut up, Stephen.” Her eyes were red, dark circles underneath. “I should have staked you when I had the chance.
“I was protecting you,” he pointed out unnecessarily, but women were women no matter what the century.
“Shut up. Just shut up!”
He raised his hands. He wanted things over, but forced himself to remain calm and slow. Sometimes, overwhelming force worked. Other times, not so much. He didn’t want to have to hurt her, too.
“You killed Bobby,” she said, voice raw. “Marty. Mary Jeana.”
Well, he hadn’t killed them all, but he knew better than to argue. She was just worn out enough to circle back around to staking and re-staking.
“Why,” she asked.
He was directly in front of her then, one hand closed around the gun, turning the barrel away from them both.
She smelled deliciously of the life he’d lost a thousand years ago. “Because,” he said softly, “You are my home.”