“Anything?”
“Yes.”
“And why would you do that?”
“There are some rules.”
“Rules.”
“My deal. My rules.”He held out one finger even though they were still linked. “One: I can refuse three questions.”
“Okay.” Despite myself, I was warming up to this game.
“Two: you can only ask me ten questions.”
“Okay.” No deal breakers yet.
“Three: you have to agree to the same for me. Answer seven of the ten questions I ask you. Honestly.”
“Honestly.”
“You want me to tell the truth. I want the same in return.”
“And how long does this deal last?”
“Until the questions run out.”
I didn’t see how this could go wrong. I could answer anything he asked honestly. He might not like the answers but I could give them to him.
“All right. Deal.”
He smiled and leaned back. “So ask.”
“Did you really donate your blood to the Red Cross?”
His eyebrows plunged. It was not the question he expected. “You sure you want to ask me that? I already gave you the answer.”
“I want an honest answer.”
“Yes, I donated my blood to the Red Cross. You’re not very good at this game, Delaney.”
“You think it’s a game?”
He lifted a palm in a shrug sort of gesture.
I searched his eyes. The problem with our little truth or truth game was that we had to trust that neither of us would lie. He didn’t look like he was lying, but he might be. Vampire murderers weren’t the most reliable sort, one would suppose.
“My turn,” he said.
“That’s not how it works.”
“It’s how it works. One question for one question.”
“You didn’t say that in the rules.”
“It’s in the small print.”
“What small print?”
