Runaway Vampire (24 page)

Dante hesitated. He'd really been looking forward to getting back here with the condoms and actually using them. However, that wasn't looking very likely if he had to explain—Sighing, he pushed those thoughts
away. This was important to Mary. He
needed
to explain, “Immortals can read each other if they do not guard their thoughts. If they are guarding their thoughts, it is impossible to read immortals who are older than themselves, and harder, but not impossible to read the thoughts of immortals about their age or younger than themselves. We quickly learn to guard our thoughts, but it takes constant effort and can be exhausting, and immortals often end up avoiding spending time with each other because of this. Life then can become very lonely if they stay by themselves, or heartbreaking if they befriend mortals who age, sicken and die so quickly in comparison to us. It has led to immortals going rogue and doing things they should not,” he added solemnly. “And that is why we have hunters, or Enforcers.”

“That is also why life mates are so important to us,” he continued without giving her a chance to interrupt. “A life mate is the one person, mortal or immortal, that we cannot read and who cannot read us. We can relax together and enjoy each other without the need to constantly guard our thoughts.”

“If you turn your daughter and she turns her husband and they are not life mates, they would not long stay together. Worse yet, each of them would then be consigned to a life alone with no hope of ever turning a life mate should they meet one.” Dante paused briefly to let that sink in and then added, “And just by the very fact of forcing your grandchildren to turn each other, each of them would lose their opportunity to ever turn a life mate. They would all be left to live a very long, very
lonely life with no hope of respite except through death or going rogue.”

Mary's shoulders dropped miserably. “Isn't there any way—?”

“No,” he cut her off solemnly. “Each immortal can turn only one. And if you tell your family without the intention of turning them . . .” He paused, his mouth firming. “Well, it would be a wasted effort. Lucian would send a group of Enforcers to ensure their minds were wiped of the memory. And then he would have you locked up in the cells in that building you probably noticed at the back of the property until you could be judged by the council.”

“Judged?” she asked weakly. “What would they do?”

Dante shrugged. “I do not know for certain. I suspect they would search your thoughts to see if you were likely to be a future threat to keeping our presence in the world a secret. If not, they might just keep you locked up for a while.”

“But if they thought I was?” she asked with a frown.

“They might simply perform a three on one and wipe your family and past from your memory, or . . .”

“Or?” Mary prompted, when he paused.

“Or, they might terminate you,” Dante admitted on a sigh, and then added, “I, of course, would try to stop them, would no doubt be killed in the effort, and we would both be dead.”

Mary gaped at him at this prediction, and then they both glanced to the door as someone knocked on it.

Sighing, Dante released Mary and turned to cross the
room and answer it. His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed warily when he saw Lucian in the hall. If the man read his mind and got wind of the discussion he'd interrupted—

“In his report, Russell mentioned that Mary lost her RV and all her possessions in the RV explosion,” Lucian said abruptly.

“
Si
. She lost everything except the clothes she was wearing and they were badly damaged too,” Dante admitted. “We were going to take her out to buy clothes, but then the kidnappers took her and . . .” He shrugged.

Lucian nodded. “Bastien will arrange for new ID and bank accounts for her. He'll put in a sum to cover everything she lost, but he needs to know what name to put on the ID and accounts, and what birth date Mary wants. She cannot use her original birth date or the name Winslow anymore,” he pointed out.

“Right,” Dante said with a frown. “I will have to talk to her about that.”

Lucian nodded. “Do that. In the meantime, she will need clothes. We shall have to take her shopping. Would you prefer to do it first thing in the morning before retiring? Or in the afternoon after waking?”

“We?” Dante asked, his voice almost strangled with surprise. Lucian was not the sort to enjoy shopping for women's clothes, he was sure.

But Lucian nodded. “You and Mary, Russell, Francis and myself.”

“Oh,” he said weakly.

Lucian waited patiently, but when Dante just con
tinued to stare at him, his mind in an uproar, he said, “Late afternoon it is then,” and turned to walk away, leaving Dante staring after him.

M
ary stared at Dante's back. She couldn't see who was at the door—Dante's wide back was blocking her view—but she didn't really care. She didn't even care enough to listen to what was being said and she no doubt could have heard with her super duper new hearing, but she couldn't be bothered. Her mind was spinning with all she'd lost.

She'd thought losing her husband last year had been a big blow, but losing her children and grandchildren, her entire remaining family and all her friends in one go? And if her being turned was the cause of her loss, then it had happened in basically the same area of Texas where she'd lost her husband last year, she realized, taking note of the irony.

But Dante had turned her to save her life, Mary reminded herself quietly. If he hadn't she would be dead, which would have lost her everything anyway, and in a more permanent way. But now she had her life, if a slightly different one that included the need for blood. And she had Dante. And she could still see her children and grandchildren from afar, and check their Facebook and twitter accounts to see how they were. She just could not actually speak to them or hold them in her arms again, comfort them when they suffered life's setbacks or losses, or encourage them when—

Turning sharply to the window, Mary dashed a sudden spate of tears from her eyes and took a deep breath. She was being a stupid, ungrateful old fool. She had been given a gift here that most would kill for. She had a young and healthy body again with no aches or pains, no failing sight, no pills for blood pressure or cholesterol.

She also had a strong, handsome man who she had mind-blowing sex with, literally, and who saw her as the holy grail of women. A man who wanted her for his life mate and had admitted just moments ago that he'd die for her.

And, she could have babies with him too with this new improved body, Mary reminded herself. But even that did not ease the pain of losing the children and grandchildren she already had, and she knew it never would. While she'd loved every dog she'd had in her life, none had replaced the one she'd had and lost before it.

But they had helped ease the pain a bit, Mary thought suddenly. Perhaps the distraction of a baby would help see her through not being able to see her children and grandchildren except through their Facebook posts.

The psychologist in Mary knew at once that that was a bad idea, that it wouldn't work to ease her loss, and in fact would simply add to her stress as new babies tended to do. But Mary was a woman first and didn't want to listen to the more reasonable and educated side of her brain. She suddenly just wanted a baby to hold in her arms, one that was born immortal and could not be taken away from her.

“Mary?” Dante said softly and she whirled to see that the door was closed and he was crossing the room to join her again.

Mary didn't even think, she just slipped the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders and let the gown drop to pool around her feet. “Let's make a baby.”

Dante stopped walking and blinked. “What?”

Stepping out of the puddle of cloth, Mary moved to him and slipped her arms up around his shoulders to try to tug his head down for a kiss. When he resisted, a frown marring his perfect face, she grabbed his hand and dragged him the few steps to one of the chairs by the window and quickly stepped up on the seat so that she could reach his mouth.

“Mary,” he said on a laugh, trying to avoid her lips when she tried to kiss him. “What—?”

“I want a baby,” she said almost desperately. “Please, Dante.”

“But, Mary, you said—” He paused and gasped when she gave up on trying to kiss him, and instead reached down to find and squeeze him through the thick cloth of his jeans. Shaking his head, he groaned helplessly, “But I got the condoms.”

“We don't need them,” she assured him, unsnapping his jeans with her free hand and then lowering the zipper. “I want a baby.”

“But Mary, you—I—” His efforts to speak died abruptly as she got his jeans open, freeing his quickly growing erection. When she caught it in her hand and squeezed gently, he gave up arguing on a growl and covered her mouth with his own.

Breathing her relief into his mouth, Mary kissed him back and continued to caress him, her own body responding to the touch and telling her just how much pressure to apply, what speed felt best. It was a wonderful trick, allowing her to bring them both quickly to the brink. But when Mary realized she was about to push them both over the edge into orgasm with him not even in her, she quickly released him and broke their kiss.

Ignoring Dante's groan of disappointment, Mary urged him back a step, and got off the chair to stand on the floor in front of him. She then immediately turned and bent forward, bracing herself on the arms of the chair now with her behind nudging against his erection.

“Hurry Dante,” she urged. “Give me a baby.”

Dante clasped her hips and she waited, bracing herself for his thrust, but it never came. He just held her. Mary glanced over her shoulder, scowling when she saw the frown on his face. He was thinking when he should be doing.

“Dante,” she said impatiently. “We can't make a baby that way.”

His gaze shifted to her and then something like determination crossed his face, and he shifted his hands to grab her by the waist.

Relieved, Mary started to turn forward again, and then gasped in surprise when instead of entering her, he simply picked her up and set her to stand on the chair again, still with her back to him. She frowned and glanced around then. Dante was a lot taller than her and she supposed it would have been awkward for
him with them both standing on the floor. Still, surely this put her up too high?

Mary had barely had the thought when he urged her feet further apart until they were on the very edges of the chair. She thought he was trying to arrange her so that she was at the right height for penetration, but he startled her by then squeezing his wide chest under and between her legs to sit in the chair facing her.

“What—?” she began with confusion, than gasped when he caught her butt cheeks in each hand and pulled her forward. Mary cried out with surprise and grabbed at the wall, then cried out again as his mouth was suddenly between her spread legs, his tongue thrusting where she'd wanted his erection.

“No!” Mary cried with a dismay that quickly turned to need. “Oh God, yes . . . no . . . yes . . . Oh Dante,” she cried, bracing one hand on the wall behind the chair and tangling the other in his hair as he began to lick and suck at the nub of her excitement.

Apparently, the shared pleasure made it easy for him to know just exactly what to do to push them over that edge they'd been approaching before she'd stopped too. Dante didn't stop, though, he just pushed until they both rode over the falls and dropped into the dark waters waiting below.

M
ary was slumped in Dante's lap on the chair, her legs on either side of his and her head on his shoulder, when she woke from their post-noncoital encounter. He
was already awake, something she deduced from the fact that he was rubbing her back soothingly. Mary lay still for a moment, both enjoying the caress and avoiding having to face him. But it seemed she didn't fool him. Dante knew she was awake, which she deduced when his hands stilled and he spoke.

“Do you want to explain what just happened?”

Mary reluctantly sat up, but feigned ignorance. “It's usually referred to as oral sex. Although one of my patients said it's called having a box lunch now, or alternately a Bikini Burger or a Cherry Flip.” She paused and grimaced before admitting, “He has a thing for looking up such words online and was always coming into his appointments with risqué lists of slang terms.”

“Was his name Bricker?” Dante asked, his eyes narrowing.

“No,” she answered, and frowned. “I can't tell you the name of my patients, Dante, even if they aren't my patients anymore. That would be unethic—”

“Never mind,” Dante interrupted. “Of course it was not him. You are from Winnipeg and he has not even been there that I know of.”

She tilted her head curiously at that, wondering who this Bricker was that he was talking about.

“Anyway,” he said, “that's not what I meant when I asked you to explain. I do know it was oral sex, Mary,” he added dryly. “I meant why the sudden desire for a baby when less than an hour ago you were determined we should not have one and
made me go out and find condoms
?”

Mary's mouth twitched with amusement at the com
plaint in his voice, and then she sighed and sat up a little straighter.

“I've changed my mind is all,” she responded. “I want a baby now.”

“Why?” he asked at once.

Mary shrugged and glanced unhappily away.

“They will not replace the children you already have,” he said solemnly.

Her lower lip trembled and she bit it, and then lowered her head. “I know, but—”

“
Tesoro
,” Dante interrupted. Catching her chin, he turned her to face him before saying, “I would be happy to give you a baby if you want.”

“You will?” she asked uncertainly.