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  "Vincent ... love ... will you make me the luckiest woman on this earth and marry me?"

  Chapter 2

  As soon as Lilia proposed, Vincent knew.

  It was unexpected, of course, he had never thought a woman, let alone Lilia, would propose to him. He was old-fashioned enough to have thought, once or twice, that he would be the one getting down on one knee, some day. But none of it mattered, as he instantly knew he had to say yes, there really wasn't any other answer possible. It was the logical conclusion to seven years of knowing her, seven years of fighting because it was the easy thing to do, easier than to admit to her or even to himself that he was attracted to her. No, it was more than attraction; it was love. He loved the banter they shared, loved to fight with her, loved that neither of them ever got the upper hand. She was his equal, his match, what he had been looking for in all the women he had ever met, what he had glimpsed in Emma but never truly found until now. And that was why he wanted more than a simple wedding. His beloved was a vampire, and he wanted to honor her by following vampire customs.

  He had read about it years earlier, when he had first started studying vampires and their lore. Knowing what he was fighting had always been an imperative for him, and he had never ceased to look for new books, new information, anything to understand his prey better. Despite the years that had passed and the lack of thought he had given it since reading about it, he remembered in detail the description of the Mating ritual between vampires; he remembered, also, that it could be done between vampire and human. A ritual of love and belonging that left each lover marked forever; it was the perfect union for them.

  "I'll marry you,” he replied, breathless from both the kiss they had shared and what he was about to suggest. “But I don't want you only as my wife. I want you as my Mate, too.” His voice became quieter at the sudden realization of how bold he was. “If you will have me, that is."

  Her eyes widened in surprise as he stumbled a little on the words. He wished he had been able to say it as calmly, as beautifully as she had when proposing but he was just too excited and too nervous for that.

  "You mean it?” she asked, her voice raw with what Vincent hoped was desire. “You really want to be my Mate?"

  He nodded and tried to find something romantic to say, something Lilia could remember and smile about a hundred years from now, but already her mouth was on his and there was nothing for him to do but hold her tighter and lose himself in her.

  The rest was a blur of motions and sensations. They divested each other right where they stood, clothes landing haphazardly on the tombstones around them. Vincent's heart hammered in his chest as he finally discovered the silk of Lilia's skin, and he thought he would die when her hands slid up over his chest, cool but not cold, pulling his t-shirt off and setting his nerves on fire in the same movement. Boots and pants were a bit trickier, the first because of fastenings that shaky hands had trouble undoing, the second because they were tight as a second skin on Lilia. Finally, they were nude in front of each other.

  "You're beautiful,” they said in the same moment, and grinned at how their thoughts mirrored each other.

  "I never imagined this would happen,” Lilia confided in a whisper as she reached out to caress Vincent lightly, her fingers gliding from his shoulder down to his hand, which she clasped in hers.

  "Me neither. But it makes so much sense. Why did we wait so long?"

  He had pulled her to him as he answered, and now their bodies were touching and it was just perfect. Perfect, but not enough.

  "I don't know. But I won't wait a minute longer."

  With that, she covered his mouth with hers again, and everything but sensations ceased to have meaning. They sank to the soft, cool grass together and the gentle kiss and gentler touches slowly became passionate and demanding. Lilia's mouth and hands drove Vincent out of his mind, making him harder if that was possible, making him ache for her. He gave as good as he received, teasing her nipples into hard nubs with his tongue and teeth, tweaking her clit between his fingers until she panted and pleaded in his ear:

  "Please, Vincent, now. Want to feel you. All of you."

  He would have given his life for her at that moment, if that were what she had requested.

  The world stood still when he finally slid into her, slowly and savoring the powerful sensation of her tightness around him. At last, he was sheathed in her, and it felt as though the urgency had disappeared, and been replaced by this intense peace and feeling of rightness. They looked into each other's eyes, smiled and Vincent couldn't have said which of them initiated the kiss as they leaned toward each other's mouth at the same instant. It was just lips at first, a caress more than a kiss, until Lilia ran the tip of her tongue against his bottom lip, requesting, and being granted, entrance. As her tongue slipped inside his mouth, Vincent couldn't bear remaining still anymore and started moving in her, following the lazy rhythm of her tongue as it danced against his.

  He soon had to break the kiss to catch his breath, and took advantage of this brief separation to intensify his thrusting, pulling moans from Lilia's throat and raspy requests of harder, please, love. Hands gripping her hips tight, he was all too happy to oblige, and thought he would lose control when she angled her hips to meet him, thrust for thrust, her hands playing over his chest before they twined at the back of his head and pulled him down. As he teetered on the edge of bliss, Lilia guided his mouth to her neck, nuzzled his, murmured, “Together", and the world shattered behind Vincent's closed eyelids.

  * * * *

  Lying on her side in the grass, her cheek propped on her fist, Lilia watched Vincent. Watched her Mate. And couldn't stop grinning.

  He lay on his back next to her, eyes wide open and staring straight up to the sky, his breathing still ragged but slowly returning to normal. With his ruffled hair, ornamented with a few blades of grass, and slightly silly and awed smile, he looked absolutely delicious. And he was delicious, as Lilia now knew from experience. She hadn't taken much blood at all, a Mating only required a mutual bite and a common intent to bind two lovers, but his taste still lingered on her tongue. Strong, spiced by sex and love, she had never tasted anything better, and she couldn't wait to taste him again. There was no rush, however. On the left side of his neck, she could see the two healing puncture holes that marked him as hers. They would heal to a light silver color, she knew. As would her own scar, she wished she could have seen it. Made by human teeth, it had to be rounded. And perfect.

  "I can feel you,” he murmured suddenly, the tilting of his head toward her his only movement. “We're not even touching, but I can feel you."

  Her grin widened a little. She had known it would happen, but to know it and to experience it were very different. “I know. Me too. Feels incredible, doesn't it?"

  He nodded and, in one swift movement, turned toward her, entwining his legs with hers and pushing her to her back. The grass was cool behind her, and in contrast she almost felt her skin burn everywhere his body touched her; everything that Lilia was, everything that she knew demanded that she get even closer to him and intensify the contact.

  "Feels even better when we do touch,” he chuckled, and leaned down to trail kisses along her collarbone. Lilia hummed her agreement and wove her arms around his back; she pulled him closer to her like a warm living, wiggling and hardening blanket.

  Actually, not so warm she noticed. Or rather, not as warm as he ought to have been.

  "Vincent?” she inquired, a little worried. “Are you getting cold?"

  He murmured something unintelligible in between the soft kisses he rained upon her flesh, but she already had her answer. His skin was cooler than it had been earlier when she had first touched him, and she could even feel goose bumps under her fingers that she was sure had more to do with the cool temperature of the night than with her touch.

  "How about getting somewhere warm?” she suggested as she rolled him onto his back. “A bed would be nice, too. You know, to get some sleep. Or no
t."

  He laughed quietly when she wiggled a suggestive eyebrow and leaned in for a quick kiss.

  "Anything you want, love."

  Finding all of their clothes and putting them on took longer than it should have as they each stopped and reached toward the other for a kiss or a cuddle a couple of times, but eventually they were decent enough to walk through the city and to Vincent's townhouse. They held hands as they did; Lilia couldn't remember ever having held someone's hand like this, not since she had hit her teenage years, she couldn't even remember having ever wanted to hold someone's hand. But the simple, innocent contact had her entire body ablaze, for it held the promise of so much more to come.

  When, smiling, Vincent invited her inside the house, Lilia felt as though he was inviting her into his life. Then she remembered—how could she have forgotten, even for a second—that he had already done that. The fresh, tingling bite on her throat was ample proof of that.

  * * * *

  Their first time had started slowly and gradually intensified up to the fireworks of their Mating. The second one was just the opposite, and Lilia couldn't have said which she liked best. Both experiences were beyond anything she had ever known in more than a century of existence.

  Lips devoured and hands worked frantically to get rid of clothes that stood in the way of flesh to flesh contact, and they left a trail of discarded clothing behind them through the living room, like many breadcrumbs. Vincent led her to the back of the room, toward the kitchen she first thought, but then she noticed the staircase running parallel to the half wall that closed the kitchen. The mezzanine above had to be the bedroom. The steps proved to be a slight challenge until Vincent lifted Lilia up while kissing her. She immediately brought her legs up around him and let him carry her upstairs, all the while wiggling her hips so that his cock trailed against her entrance. By the time they fell on the bed, he was slick with her wetness and she lost no time in rolling them over. Straddling him, she guided him inside her in one snap of her hips, forcing a cry from the both of them, and started riding him hard.

  "God, Lilia, so good..."

  His hands gripped her hips, tight and possessive, reinforcing her rhythm even as he arched into her and drew back. But first his left hand then the right let go of her and started gliding over her thighs then back to her waist, up to her breast that he cupped lovingly before sliding down again. Responding to the tender and lazy touch, Lilia slowed down and started exploring his chest and arms with the same gentle caresses. She never ceased to rock her body over his, but her movements were now drawn out as she slowly raised herself until nothing but the tip of his cock remained in her, then sank back down on him, inch by inch, feeling him stretch her each time as though it were the first.

  "I never imagined this,” she repeated her earlier words, still unable to completely grasp what was happening. “I've dreamed of sinking my fangs in you, I wanted so much to kill you, but this..."

  Words failed her, but she could see in Vincent's eyes that he understood, and felt the same way.

  "I know,” he soothed her. “It doesn't matter now. Not anymore. This is the reason why we never killed one another."

  She nodded and leaned in for a quick kiss, delighting in his gasp at the change of angle. She could feel her climax growing nearer with each touch of his hands, each slide of his cock, and the contact was made simply incredible by the link that now joined them. She would never have believed that having a Mate would make her feel so perfectly complete. So whole. It was as though she had been reunited with a part of her she hadn't known had been missing. And she wouldn't ever let go, she promised herself as much.

  Catching Vincent's hands, she helped him sit up and slid her legs behind him. The position didn't allow for much movement, but now he was close enough for her to capture his lips again, and she did just that, caressing his tongue with hers as she did his body. His right hand slid between them and to the apex of her legs, where he pressed his thumb to her engorged clit, flicking it once, twice, and pushing her over the edge. She broke the kiss and gasped his name; in the same instant, she could feel him inside her, thrusting in one last time and coming hard with her.

  "Lilia ... love ... love you so much..."

  Arms and legs wrapped against each other, their bodies still trembling and singing with joy, they remained as they were for long seconds or maybe hours, watching each other, sharing soft kisses and smiling. Lilia was about to tell him—again—that she loved him when the air almost shimmered, almost rippled around them as it had earlier that night.

  The shock and horror she could see on Jordan's face only mirrored her own as she realized where she was and what—who—she was doing. Even as he slid back, she moved off him, and got ready to lunge and make him pay for whatever the hell had happened. He had to have done something, there was just no way...

  His foot connecting with her jaw caught her by surprise. She tumbled backwards, off the bed and onto the hardwood floor; her head hit the floor with a dull thud and everything went black.

  Chapter 3

  The phone rang as Vincent stood in front of the slightly fogged bathroom mirror, eyes riveted to the image of the bite mark on his neck. The events of the last couple of hours were replaying in his mind, and each time they did, they made a little less sense.

  He had taken advantage of Lilia's unconsciousness to tie her up and, abandoning her on his bed, had walked down to the bathroom. His skin reeked of her, of the two of them together, and he had scrubbed it raw to wash off both the scent and the memory of her touch. Even now though, even after the sting of scalding hot water, he could still feel her hands on him, and practically had to fight himself not to return to her.

  A towel at his hips and another in his hand that he had used to dry his hair, he moved to the phone more by reflex than by conscious thought, and answered the same way.

  "Vincent Jordan, Special Enforcer. What..."

  "Vince!” Don's relieved voice cut in. “Thank God you're there! Are you all right? Something went wrong with the spell and I couldn't find you at the graveyard. Did you know you dropped your cell phone there? I was so damn scared! What happened? Did you get the vamp? When..."

  In a world of confusion, his friend's agitated chatter was at least one familiar anchor to cling to for Vincent. He could remember Don at age five, introducing himself at recess and starting to ramble until Vincent had interrupted him to ask him what his name was again. Years had passed but Don hadn't changed much.

  "Hey, calm down,” Vincent managed to break into the endless monologue. “I'm OK. Things were a bit ... weird, for a while, but everything's better now. I caught the vamp, brought her home, and we can do the truth spell as soon as you get here."

  "I thought you said we'd do the interrogation in the van.” Vincent could hear the frown in Don's voice, and he could guess that the questions would start again soon. He needed a story, and quick. There was just no way he would admit to what had happened with Lilia, not when he could barely believe it had happened.

  "You said it yourself, the spell went wrong; it affected me too, not just her.” He snorted, trying to play up the irony of the situation in hopes of making it sound more plausible. “For a moment, Lilia was my best friend and I was taking her home for a drink when the magic stopped."

  Don's laughter had an incredulous, almost hysterical note to it. “Lilia? Your best friend? God, Vincent, I really messed up on that one. I'm so sorry about that."

  If only you knew, Vincent thought glumly, even as he said: “Don't sweat it. Just make her talk for me and we'll call it even."

  "I ... I'll try. I hope that I won't mess that up too. I need to swing by the store and get a refill on one of the ingredients, but I'm coming. Half an hour at the most. Don't get too friendly with Lilia in the meantime!"

  Forcing a chuckle out, Vincent hung up the phone and looked toward the back of the house and the mezzanine where he could hear thumping noises and curses. It looked like his ‘best friend’ was conscious again
. The confrontation promised to be interesting.

  Trying to come up with a plan, he returned to the bathroom and quickly got dressed, doing his best to ignore his image in the mirror as he did. Then he climbed the staircase wearily, the unwanted memory popping up in his mind of how he had carried Lilia upstairs not that long ago.

  "Jordan!” she growled just as he was reaching the last step. “What in hell did you do to me, you stupid, impotent little..."

  Ignoring her words, he reached for the stake tucked into the back of his pants. That stopped the tirade.

  "I did nothing,” he said, sounding more detached than he really felt. “And believe me, I'd just as soon forget it ever happened."

  "You can't kill me,” she said with an appearance of calm, but looking into her wide eyes he realized she thought he wanted to forget by getting rid of her. “Not now. If you..."

  "I won't,” he interrupted her. “Not unless you give me a reason to do it. Now here's a choice for you. A friend of mine is coming by. You can meet him exactly as you are now, or you can play nice and I'll let you clean up and get dressed. Your choice."

  It was a bluff, nothing more. There was no way he would let Don see her like this and ask why she was naked, had semen drying on her thighs, and the imprint of human teeth on her neck. But it would be much easier on him if she did the sponge bath and clothes part by herself.

  * * * *

  As he fiddled with the collar of his shirt, Vincent could feel Lilia's eyes on him. He had helped her throw some clothes on after she had cleaned up, untying first her feet, then one arm at a time, careful not to give her any opening. Now, she was tied to a chair and shackled to the floor in the middle of Vincent's living room, the bolt reinforced by magic. It wasn't the first time he had needed to interrogate a prisoner. It was, however, the first time he had ever slept with a prisoner before the interrogation. The only positive aspect of the situation was that she was as mortified as he was by what they had done. And although she still glared at him—a lot—she had at least stopped accusing him of manipulating her mind to take advantage of her body after he had repeatedly pointed out that he was as disgusted as she was by their loss of control.