Ringo was pacing, strung out from the desire to get high, anxious as hell over Kelsey. No matter that he had never intended to come back for her. Now that he had, she wasn’t there, and it worried him. He had returned to their room to get her after stopping at a restaurant and tossing back two shots of whiskey. It hadn’t decreased his urge for something harder, something like what Donatelli had had in that cup.

Heroin.

But the alcohol had made him bold, reckless. Desperate to get rid of the urge swirling inside him, he had fed four times, straight from the source, sucking his victims hard and fast, taking more than he should have to finally feel full. It hadn’t worked, and he’d left four women dazed and disoriented in Central Park. It had made him feel guilty, which had pissed him off, and when he had returned to their crappy motel room and found Kelsey gone, he swiftly shifted his anger to her.

She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere without him. This was why he hated dragging her around with him, like a fucking anchor around his neck. And where was the gratitude? He could have just left her, yet he’d gone back for her, and this was what he got? Shit. He had been just fine on his own, without all these complications. Pain in the fucking ass, that’s what she was, had been since the first time he’d met her. He didn’t know why he put up with her, didn’t know why he kept her around, why he risked his neck for her. Didn’t know why the hell he was worried about her.

Because she was a freaking fruitcake, that’s why, and for whatever weird-ass reason, he cared about her. And damn it, he hated that. Hated it. He didn’t want to care. Or worry. Or regret that he could never be the kind of man who would be good for her.

Ringo ripped the lamp off the nightstand, its cord tearing out of the socket, and tossed it against the wall above the dresser, where it shattered with a satisfying smash. He sent the other one flying after it. And pitched the ice bucket onto the floor. He was pulling out dresser drawers one by one and stomping them into bits with his boots when the door opened and Kelsey came in. The sight of her, safe, a frown on her beautiful face, filled him with relief and renewed rage.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he demanded, splintering wood beneath his feet with a sickening crack.

Kelsey came over to him in a rush, her hands fluttering out. “Ringo, stop that. We can’t pay for that.”

“So. What.” He reached for another one.

Kelsey grabbed his arm to stop him. “Baby, what’s the matter?” She stroked his skin, her voice soothing. “I’m sorry I left... I hope you weren’t worried. I just went to feed. I wasn’t sure how long you’d be gone, since you didn’t leave a note or anything.” A note? Now he was supposed to leave a fucking note whenever he wanted to go anywhere? “You Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

should have done what I told you to do and stayed here. You never listen to me, Kelsey!” She moved in closer, sliding her leg along his, wincing like she’d felt a sudden pain. “Shh... yes, I do. I listen to you. Don’t be mad at me, baby. You know I only want what makes you happy. I’m sorry.” Her lips were on his ear, hands moving over his arm, his chest. Ringo stood still, breathing hard, his anger untamed, anxiety and urges rising hot and fast and sick inside him. He felt out of control, and he worked to regain a semblance of it.

“Get away from me,” he said, very carefully.

“Oh!” She made a sound of pain, and pulled back, tears instantly in her eyes.

“We’re leaving here tonight,” he said. “We’re going back to Vegas.” It had been a mistake to leave in the first place. It was too soon. He wasn’t ready. He had fucked up his meeting with Donatelli, shown him he was still vulnerable. If Donatelli wanted to play, let him contact Ringo. He wasn’t going after him again.

“I don’t want to go back to Vegas. Everyone there is going to be mad at me. I didn’t give Mr. Carrick two weeks’ notice.”

Kelsey looked scared, her arms wrapped around her middle, hidden in the bulky sweatshirt she was wearing. That was his sweatshirt, he realized. And he hated that he liked that she was in his clothes, hated that he liked the fact that she stuck with him, and hated that she looked so damn cute. Hated that she gave a crap about that pussy Carrick and her stupid job for him.

“You should have thought about that before you ran off and married me,” he said ruthlessly, tossing the still intact drawer in his hands back onto the dresser. “Now we’re going back and you’re just going to have to deal with it.” He was testing her, certain of what she’d say. “Unless you want to call it quits right now. Tear up the marriage certificate and go our separate ways.” Her eyes widened, her expression softened. “Why would I want to do that? I love you.” Then she was a fool. But he had known that all along. And he knew, even if he couldn’t say it out loud, that he loved her, too, which really sucked.

“Are we leaving right now?” she asked, slowly bending over and gathering up the wood pieces and stacking them neatly by the garbage can. “I can pack our stuff in ten minutes.” Ringo rubbed his forehead. “Don’t do that. Leave it there.”

“It’s no big deal, I’ll be finished in two seconds.”

“Get up!” he shouted, angry at the sight of her picking up after him.

She quickly stood up, wincing again. “What?” she asked, confused. “What is your problem? Someone needs to clean it up.”

“I’ll do it,” he said, yanking her by the arm toward him. “And why are you acting like you’re in pain?” She turned her head away from him. “I just had an accident. I fell down some stairs.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“Really?” That sounded like less than the truth, but he wasn’t interested in talking. “Even more reason you shouldn’t be cleaning up after me. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good. Because I need to fuck you right now.”

Her eyes darkened. “Why?” she asked in a breathless voice, her demeanor instantly responding to his crass words, just like he knew it would.

Yanking the sweatshirt off over her head, he kissed and nipped along her jaw. “Because you belong to me, Kelsey. And I like that.”

Her arms went around his neck and she ground her hips against his. “We belong to each other.” Ringo yanked her jeans and panties down. “God help us both.” And he pushed her against the closet door—the most convenient wall—unzipped, and slid into her with a shudder. She made those sounds, the ones he loved so much, the gasping and desperate mewls, as he thrust into her over and over again. When he was inside her, when there was nothing but them and their hard, needy pleasure, Ringo almost remembered what it was like to be human, could almost touch a time when he had been normal. Happy.

Because when he pushed in, at Kelsey, she took, and never wavered in her openness to him, and he sank into that, craved that, at the same time it scared the absolute shit out of him.

She came quickly, her leg wrapped around his, her eyes dilating with pleasure, and Ringo let go, gritted his teeth, and exploded inside her. When he stopped shuddering and pried his eyes open, he realized he had pushed his hand right through the closet door. Vampire strength. He still wasn’t used to it, though he enjoyed the feeling of power it gave him.

“Shit,” he said, with a little laugh, and pulled his hand out. Good thing he had Donatelli’s wallet. He’d have to leave some cash for the damages.

His cell phone rang in his pants pocket, which was shoved down his thigh.

“Ring-a-ling,” Kelsey said, sagging against the door and wiping her mouth, a satisfied smile on her face.

That made him laugh. Sometimes she said the stupidest things.

Reaching down, he retrieved the phone, and took the call. “Hello?”

“This is Donatelli. Twenty-five grand. That’s as high as I’ll go. And you’ll have to collect the money in Vegas from Gregor Chechikov.”

Ringo jerked up his pants. “You expect me to travel all the way back to Vegas with no guarantees?

How do I know you won’t just turn me in?” He had been planning the trip back anyway, but it made him uncomfortable that Donatelli was suggesting it.

“Because we’ll be traveling together. And if you get caught, so do I. So do you want the money or not?” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“Sure.” Ringo looked at Kelsey, who was shaking her head. “But you go first and we’ll follow you. I don’t think my wife enjoys your company, Donatelli.” Her eyes went wide at the name.

“Well, she clearly has poor taste in men. Look at who she married.”

“Fuck off,” Ringo said mildly.

Donatelli laughed. “I’m leaving in an hour. Someone will meet you at four a.m. in front of the Bellagio.

And don’t try anything, Columbia. I know too much about your weaknesses for you to win in a battle with me.”

“Likewise.” Ringo hung up the phone and turned away from Kelsey, who looked ready to protest.

“Save it, Kels. I don’t need a lecture. I’m selling a bit of info to Donatelli, that’s all. We need money to live off of. Now let’s pack.”

“He’s a bad man,” she said, in that creepy voice she used occasionally, the one where she sounded vacant and disembodied.

He hated that voice. “I’m no Boy Scout either, babe.” She made no move to pull up her pants, just stared at him. “No, you’re not.” Disturbed, Ringo turned his back on her and pulled out his duffel bag, sorry he’d ever taken this damn trip.

“She’s sleeping, go away,” Alexis told Corbin when he knocked on the door of Brittany’s apartment around eleven o’clock.

“I just want to speak to her for a moment,” Corbin said, trying to look charming. He wanted to tell Brittany how he felt, that he wanted to be with her, wanted a real marriage, with love and affection, where they raised their child together in tandem. He wanted and needed to tell her that. Before he lost his courage. Sleeping could wait.

“So? Come back tomorrow when she’s not in bed.” Alexis started to close the door in his face.

He put his hand out and stopped it. “May I step in for just a moment? Check on her? She was not feeling well at the class this evening.”

“Which is why she needs to sleep. What is it about that concept you are not understanding?” Brittany’s sister glared at him.

“I am not going to wake her up. I just want to see her.” He wasn’t sure why he was pressing the issue, but he wanted, needed, to see her for himself. In addition to his feelings of excitement about their child and their potential relationship, he had an uncomfortable fear working at the back of his brain. He wanted reassurance she was all right.

Alexis sighed. “If I tell you to go to hell and leave, you’re too polite to argue, right? You’ll just go quietly.”

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“I do not think so,” he told her, surprised to find that was true. He was not leaving without a look at Brittany. The fear was expanding, pulsing, and he would disregard manners to protect her. He didn’t know what danger she could possibly be in, but he had to know all was well.

“Shit. I had a feeling you were going to say that.” Alexis swung the door open. “Just for the record, I don’t like you. And if you wake her up, I will hurt you.” Corbin was used to people not liking him. Normally, it didn’t bother him. It was the price of his work, which he fully believed in and had no intention of stopping. But this was Brittany’s sister. They were going to be forced into one another’s company quite frequently.

He stepped inside the apartment. “What have I done to offend you?”

“You mean besides sleeping with my sister about two minutes after meeting her, not using birth control, blowing her off, then promising her you’d stick around for the long haul only to disappear for eight weeks? Besides that?”

Corbin stared at her defiantly. What did she know about his relationship with Brittany? Those were only the superficial facts, nothing more. “Yes, besides that.” His aplomb startled her. She frowned at him as she closed the door. “Then there’s the fact that you killed a woman. Not to mention you’re up to your eyeballs in controversial vampire research that smacks of all kinds of moral dilemmas. I’m just imagining frozen vampire embryos. God, think of the lawsuits. I wanted my sister to marry an accountant. I wanted her to have a normal life, with a normal husband, and a normal baby. She deserves that, damn it. I’ve worked my ass off to give that to her, and one whoo-hoo with you and it’s all shot to hell.”

Well, her feelings were entirely clear. Corbin let her finish her verbal vomit. She glared at him, and he stared back. “Anything else?”

“You’re weird.”

If he wasn’t so angry, he might have laughed. Instead, he put his hands in his pockets, hoping to retain some level of control. “I refuse to defend myself. I slept with Brittany after barely knowing her, that is true. As is the fact that she slept with me after barely knowing me. I did not use birth control, neither did she. And afterward, it was mutually agreed we would not see each other again. Those are the facts, and they are none of your business. But since you have made them your business, I will only say that if you do not like your sister’s choices, it is unfortunate. But out of your control. And what you want is entirely irrelevant. What is important is what Brittany wants, and what she deserves is happiness. Support. And you are not helping her achieve either by judging her actions, disapproving, and being mean-spirited with me.” Corbin took a second, his anger threatening to get the better of him. “Now I am going to ask you to overlook my weirdness for your sister’s sake.”

With that, he moved past the pink chintz couch and headed for Brittany’s bedroom.

“Damn,” Alexis said behind him. “You have more balls than I thought, Atelier.” Corbin ignored her and opened the door softly. Brittany was asleep, like Alexis had promised, and she had pulled the comforter up over her stomach and shoulders in the chill December air. He could not see her shape, which was disappointing. He had wanted to see her in her nightclothes, or maybe in her Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

panties, to see her body, see the belly his child was growing in. He hadn’t seen her bare flesh in nine weeks and the changes had to be abundant.

Settling for brushing her new choppy hair off her forehead, Corbin sighed in relief. He had been hoping to ignore the realities, but seeing Chechikov had reminded him who he was, how they would never have a normal life. Not until he found the cure and turned his knowledge over to someone he could trust.

Unfortunately, he had no idea who that person might be.

It was time to head back to his lab. He had lost two nights, and he needed to test his latest vaccine. He touched Brittany’s warm shoulder, smelling her pumping blood and night sweats, listening to the sound of her steady heartbeat. Suddenly he realized he could hear a second tempo. The fast fluttery heart rate of their unborn child. Corbin stood stock still, awed. It sounded absolutely amazing, mother and child not in tandem, but unified, a whole. Both his.

Mon Dieu. He felt love for their baby swelling up in him, tangible, overwhelming.

Tearing himself away from her, Corbin retreated to the living room, his own heart swelled and beating faster than normal. There was a thick taste in his mouth, a glee and ecstasy rushing through him simultaneously, along with abundant fear. He moved quickly, urgently, as he left Brittany sleeping.

“Alexis, you have to protect her.”

Alexis took a swallow from the glass of blood in her hand and looked at him with a hefty dose of suspicion. “From what?”

“I care about Brittany. I care about my child.” Corbin felt his hands forming fists and he took a deep breath. “And while you are wrong about many things, you are right that my work is controversial. I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know that if the wrong person finds out about the origin of your sister’s baby, they won’t hesitate to use our child for their own purposes. There are those who would see me dead, who are merely waiting for the completion of my research to attempt to kill me, and if I cannot protect Brittany, you must do it. You and your husband.”

“I will kill anyone who touches Brittany. But why would they want her baby?” Corbin glanced back at the bedroom door. “This child will be immortal, but have no need to drink blood. I have not told Brittany this because I don’t want to scare her, but Carrick knows the truth. And I’m telling you because you are the first defense between Brittany and harm.”

“Jesus Christ.” Alexis’s face was pale. “And you wonder why I don’t like you?”

“No one must know the baby is mine. They must think it is just a mortal’s child. Then I will marry Brittany so I am close enough to protect her, and see that no one learns the truth.”

“Brittany’s agreed to tell people the baby’s father is Joe Blow?” Her expression indicated how doubtful she felt that was.

“I haven’t told her she should. You know Brittany. I don’t think she would agree to the deception.” Corbin ran his hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have come back around so soon, but I wanted to see her. I couldn’t stay away. I have very strong feelings for her.” Alexis looked horrified. “Oh, God, you’re like in love with her, aren’t you?” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“Possibly.” He wasn’t entirely sure what love felt like, but he definitely had some strong emotions regarding Brittany, feelings that had only grown in the eight weeks of separation.

“I suspect she feels the same way. So I guess I really am going to have to get over it and accept you.

Crap .” Alexis set her glass down on the coffee table with a loud plunk. “I’m not sure I can lie to her.”

“You’re going to have to.” Corbin moved closer to her. “And tell me, do you know who Brittany’s father is?”

“No. For the thousandth time, no. Ethan and Seamus have asked me that already.” Alexis shook her head. “All I know is that my mother met him when she was working at a club. And I remember the day my father found out. My parents were arguing and he threatened to leave her, take the two of us with him. And she told him he could take me, but not Brittany, because she wasn’t even his kid.” She rolled her eyes. “Nice, huh? He called her a liar and she mentioned the fact that Brittany had black hair, if he hadn’t noticed, while his was a dirty blond. So he called her a whore, she laughed, and said that Italians were known for being good lovers, unlike hillbillies from West Virginia. So he left, without me, I might add, despite her offer for him to take me. You think they would have kept their voices down, since I was sitting in the next room watching Care Bears, but... ” Corbin sucked in a breath.

Alexis’s head snapped up.

He saw the moment she realized what she had said. “Italians... where did that come from? I never remembered that before... crap, what does that mean? I always thought it was my mother who was of Italian descent. That’s where we got Baldizzi from—it was her maiden name.”

“It means that either your mother was lying to irritate your father, she thought the man she slept with was Italian, or the man she slept with really was Italian.” Corbin’s mind was racing, trying to mentally sort through his database. Did he have any Italian vampires’ DNA to do a comp? He had Brittany’s hair from the night they had last spent together, and he had analyzed it weeks ago, but had only begun the laborious process of matching it against potential fathers. He had started with a group of European vampires, but that number was well over twelve hundred. He had only gone through three hundred, with no match. If he could isolate that grouping to Italians only...

They might know the answer to who Brittany’s father was.

Then again, Corbin only had twenty percent of all vampires in his database. Since they were a seventy-five percent male population, that left over five thousand potential candidates still at large.

“How many vampires are Italian?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe a hundred. Two hundred.”

“So what do we do, ask them all to take paternity tests? And why does it matter anyway?” Corbin started pacing. “It matters because who that man is plays an important role in the political pull over our child, if it were ever to become common knowledge. That man, Brittany’s biological father, could either protect or harm our child, or be utterly powerless to stop those who would. And it is important for simple genetics. If there is the presence of a particular gene in her father, it means our child Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

will have unseen power and talents.”

“It all sounds so awful I’m not sure which is the worst-case scenario. And how do we find out who our culprit is?”

“Run DNA, of course. And when members of the Nation register to vote, they list their nationalities.

Wouldn’t Seamus Fox have access to those type of records?”

“If it’s on a computer, I bet Seamus could get to it.” Alexis bit her fingernail. “Hey, just an FYI, for a while I was getting strange e-mails from a group claiming to be vampire slayers. It seemed hokey, and they’ve stopped now, but just so you know.”

“Vampire slayers?” Corbin almost snorted. “That is a myth.”

“Yeah, well, those e-mails weren’t a myth. And maybe slayers aren’t real, but some people are delusional enough to think it’s real and jump on board.”

“Just what we need. Vigilantes thrown into the mix.” He fished his car keys out of his pocket. “Please tell Brittany that I stopped by and that I would like to speak with her.”

“Do you want her to call you or what? Because last time I checked, she didn’t even know where you live.”

That drew him up short. “No?” That sounded terrible. That was wrong. “Do you have any paper? I will write down my address and phone number.” He didn’t have a cell phone because there was no one who would be calling him, but he did have a phone in his apartment.

“It’s about time,” Alexis muttered as she opened the drawer of the desk Brittany kept by the kitchen door. She pulled out paper and pen and handed them to him.

The memo pad said, Bright Smiles by Dr. Brittany Baldizzi . A big molar with a smiley face was next to it. It made him subconsciously rub his tongue over his teeth. He had never been to a dentist.

As he wrote, he asked, “Can you ask Seamus if he can retrieve that information? I will start running the data that I already have.”

“Can’t you just isolate a search by nationality already? If you can’t, I can ask, but Seamus and I don’t really get along. He won’t do backflips to help me out.”

“Is there anyone you do get along with?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Brittany. And Ethan.” She shrugged. “Most of the time. Cara. Kelsey. My friend from college, Judith.

My old neighbor Bob, who is renting my old house for the winter so his mother can visit from South Dakota without actually living with him.”

“You have a house?” That piqued Corbin’s interest. Brittany had an apartment, as did he. She wanted a house, with a yard. “Does it have land with it?”

“Like a yard? Yeah, though it’s mostly indigenous desert plants. No grass. I’ll probably sell it when Bob’s mom goes back north in the spring. Why?”

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“Brittany would like us to live in a house, that is all. Perhaps I could purchase it from you for her.” Alexis grimaced as she took the paper from him. “Wow. We’ll just be one big happy undead family, won’t we?”

“We can only hope.” Corbin sketched her a bow. “Now, excuse-moi . I am off to run that search through my database and to feed.”

“That’s special. The Cleavers have nothing on us, I’m telling you. We’re the new All-American family.”

“Zat is the plan.” Corbin grinned, almost able to picture it. “We will be a family.” But first he had a fertile vampire to unearth and a genetic mystery to solve.

Ten

Ringo stood in front of the fountain that rose majestically in front of the Bellagio. The water was a constant hum behind him, the pool lit with spotlights as he tried not to pace, his knee bouncing up and down nonetheless. Donatelli had told him to be there at four in the fucking morning and he was on time after a hard night’s travel from New York.

Kelsey was across the street at a bar, afraid to go back to her apartment in the Ava, sure that Carrick had changed the key card. Ringo had to admit it was possible, and he didn’t doubt that he’d been evicted from his own apartment months before, all his shit sold on eBay by his landlord. So he hadn’t protested when Kelsey had insisted on accompanying him, because the truth was he wasn’t sure what to do with her. The cash in Donatelli’s wallet had covered their hotel and airline expenses, and that was it.

He hadn’t wanted to use the credit cards and risk pissing the Italian off before Ringo could cash in on the serious prize.

Twenty-five grand. Donatelli had told him the Russian, Chechikov, would be handing the money over to him, and he was supposed to turn over the name of the woman carrying Atelier’s baby. Easy.

So why did he feel like he was standing in a big-ass trap?

The December wind was chilly to mortals, and the few tourists hanging about were wearing jackets. It wouldn’t be hard to hide a knife. Ringo was doing it himself. But it would be difficult for another vampire to cut his head off in the courtyard of the Bellagio, even if it was dark and the crowd was thin.

That didn’t scare him. What scared him was the unknown. The idea that he didn’t understand how to play the game with these powerful bastards, who had been dicking other vampires over for hundreds of years. Donatelli was a sick mother-fucker who knew there were worse things than death, and Ringo didn’t want to fall in with any of that shit.

A woman caught Ringo’s attention as she wandered around the fountain, taking pictures with a digital camera. She wasn’t the usual tourist bundled in nylon and fleece. Wearing a long, black and green plaid coat tied tightly at her waist, fishnet stockings, and knee-high suede boots, she stood out in the handful of people hanging around, her walk, her manners, her dress screaming of wealth and sophistication. She was model thin, burgundy velvet gloves on her hands, and a white fuzzy purse on her shoulder, dark Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

blond hair flowing over her shoulders under a fur hat.

She didn’t seem to be aware of him, or anyone else around, and Ringo watched her, intrigued. If she were a celebrity, she would have an entourage of bodyguards, assistants, paparazzi around her. If this were a modeling shoot, there would be cameras, a director, makeup artists. But she was clearly alone, and Ringo couldn’t take his eyes from her. She wasn’t hot, not in the way a stripper or a Hooters waitress or a Playboy bunny was, but she was exotic, exquisite, untouchable. And mortal.

The urge to seduce her, to draw her aside, and sink his teeth into her flawless flesh rushed through him.

He wanted to taste her, to feel her give in to him, to see her eyes roll back with pleasure as he drew on her, taking her into him, her sweet rich blood running over his tongue and down his throat.

But he couldn’t. He had to wait for Donatelli or Chechikov’s errand boy. And he was married now, ring on his finger and everything. He didn’t possess the self-control to stop at a taste of her blood. He would want a full sexual joining while he fed, and that was probably wrong. Kelsey didn’t deserve that kind of disrespect, no matter how she got on his damn nerves. He knew that. But that didn’t stop him from wanting this woman.

Especially since she was strolling toward him, tucking her camera back into her purse and extracting a thin gold cigarette case. She lifted her head, a cigarette between her lips, and Ringo sucked in a breath.

Jesus. She was so goddamn gorgeous, her thick plump lips a raspberry color, skin creamy, cheeks pink from the chill, nose long and straight. But it was her eyes that distracted him, that made him almost forget why touching her would be wrong. Narrow, an intriguing oval shape, her eyes were a pale blue, a green ring dividing blue from the darkness of her pupils.

She smiled, gesturing to her cigarette. Ringo stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out his lighter. He lit her cigarette, smelling the thick floral perfume she wore when her head bent to inhale. Turning slightly, she blew the smoke over his shoulder. If he was expecting a thank-you, he didn’t get one. Nor did she move away.

“Are you alone?” he asked, thinking that a woman who looked like her couldn’t be, nor should she be.

Vegas was always awake, people usually everywhere at all times, and it was well lit, but that didn’t mean it was smart to wander around alone at four in the morning.

Her nose wrinkled up and she said something in another language. Then she reached into her purse and pulled out a thick envelope, pressing it into his hands.

He accepted it automatically, a realization dawning on him. “Chechikov?” he said. It made sense. She looked Russian, a hint of Mongolian around her eyes, and that could have been Russian she’d spoken.

But why was a mortal hanging out with an eccentric vampire?

“Da.” She nodded, not smiling, not frowning. Just serious now, solemn. She took his other hand, wrapped it around the envelope, squeezing. Then she pulled her hands back and said something quickly, words that sounded urgent.

Before he could react, say something, anything, she was gone, each foot moving so far in front of the other that she swayed, her hips moving like the sprawling concrete was a catwalk. Her hand came up, and she took a drag on her cigarette as she walked away, the click of her boots loud in the quiet night.

Ringo waited until she had disappeared around the fountain and headed into the lobby of the hotel, doors swallowing her, while he wondered who the hell she was and why she hadn’t asked about Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Atelier’s girlfriend.

Then he crossed the street to his wife with a boner, an envelope, and a hefty dose of suspicion.

Brittany patted her last patient of the day, Louise Zanderman, on the shoulder as she peeled off her gloves. “That wasn’t so awful, was it? You can rinse and we’ll have you out of here. Nothing hard or crunchy to eat for the rest of the day. We’ll see you in five months for your next checkup and hopefully no cavities next time.”

Louise, a pleasant woman in her fifties, spat aggressively. “I don’t understand how I have any space left to even get cavities. My teeth are nothing but fillings. And the next time I’m here for my checkup, I imagine you’ll be out on maternity leave.”

Startled, Brittany touched her stomach. “You can tell I’m pregnant?” Louise smiled at her. “Of course I can tell. You’ve always been thin. That little bubble popping out is not a big pasta dinner. It’s a baby, about five months along, at best guess.” A happy flush filled her cheeks. “That’s about right. But I didn’t realize people could tell... it’s only been in the last two weeks or so that I’ve really popped.” Louise ripped off her paper dental bib. “Congratulations. Pregnancy seems to agree with you—you’re glowing. Do you know what you’re having?”

“No.” At her last ultrasound, the technician had asked if she wanted to know, but it had seemed like a decision she shouldn’t make without Corbin. Of course, he had been MIA at the time, with only weekly floral arrangements to prove he still existed, but she still hadn’t been able to do it. She had wanted to believe they were in this pregnancy thing together. Still did. “I said I didn’t want to know. I’m happy with either a boy or a girl.”

“What does your husband think?” Louise sat up. “A lot of men want a boy that first time around.”

“Oh, I don’t think he cares about the sex.” Brittany figured Corbin just wanted their child to be born without fangs. They weren’t going to be picky about a penis.

Her dental hygienist, Sandra, came into the room and made notations in Louise’s chart as she said,

“Yeah, but now we don’t know what to give you, Dr. B. You don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl, and you haven’t even registered at the Baby Superstore.”

“The baby isn’t due for four months. There’s plenty of time.” To drag Corbin to the store and subject him to a baby registry. Brittany threw away her gloves and washed her hands as she pondered Corbin’s reaction to a breast pump. Maybe she shouldn’t take him after all.

Louise stood up and pulled her purse off the hook. “Yeah, but you need to have the shower, see what you’ve gotten for gifts, then still have time to fill in the gaps yourself. And what if the baby comes early?

You should be having the shower in your sixth month.”

“See?” Sandra looked up at her in triumph. “Told you. You need to go register.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“I’m not even having a shower.” Her only family was Alexis and her mother’s sister, who contacted them only once in a blue moon. Her friends had scattered around the country, and her coworkers were wonderful, and she considered them friends, but she didn’t want to put anyone out. Brittany smoothed her shirt down over her stomach. If anything, she needed to get maternity clothes. The two outfits she’d grabbed a few weeks earlier were not going to cut it. And her regular pants were now out of the question.

Sandra recoiled in horror. “No shower? That’s... that’s like blasphemy! You have to have one. We’re having one. The office staff. So go register. Now.”

The hygienist quivered with indignation as she poked her finger toward Brittany.

Louise told her, “I think you’d better go register.”

Brittany laughed, touched by Sandra’s vehemence. “Okay, yeesh. That’s sweet of you all to do this for me.”

She walked Louise out and came back to get her purse. Sandra was cleaning the room as she said, “Get your calendar out so we can pick a day. Maybe we’ll go to Don Juan’s across the street to have it after work one day. They have good food and a party room. And you have to bring the baby’s father.” Oh, Lord. “I don’t know... he’s French. He doesn’t always know what’s going on when a lot of people are talking at the same time.” Okay, that was a lie. But the visual of Corbin surrounded by females cooing over packs of pastel onesies was discomfiting. That might be blurring gender and class lines too much for her traditional vampire.

“What is there to know? You open gifts and pass them around. Hey, he got you pregnant. The least he can do is show up and haul everything out to the car.” There was something to that. He had gotten her pregnant. He shouldn’t be exempt from all the details parenting involved. Like baby registries.

Corbin had left a message with Alexis the night before that he wanted to speak with her. Brittany had been planning to call him around nine o’clock or so, but she was starting to think she might just pop over to his place for an impromptu visit instead. She was curious to see where he lived. And some things might be better said in person.

Like a request that he appear at both her baby shower and her next doctor’s appointment. That could take some convincing, no matter how many hours he’d spent in Baby Boot Camp.

Corbin lived in an opium den.

That was Brittany’s astonished assessment when she walked into Corbin’s apartment. On the outside, it was nothing special, just a concrete building on the fringe of downtown, built in the seventies. But inside, it looked like an East Asia silk retailer had exploded gold and ivory fabric everywhere, with a dash of scarlet tossed in occasionally for good measure. The furniture was all carved wood, a thick solid walnut color, low slung, and filled with pillows. The art was French, gilded, portraits of somber-faced women and men, a dog thrown in here and there. Books were stacked everywhere, which admittedly didn’t match the opium den theory, but added to the jumbled eccentric feeling of the crowded room. Brittany Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

could swear she smelled vanilla, as if Corbin had just baked a cake, but when she walked past his dining area, she saw six thick pillar candles burning in a multi-armed mosaic votive holder.

The man burned candles.

She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it wasn’t this. Not this homey, overstuffed intensity.

Minimalism would have matched her image of him, but now that she saw his apartment, she realized how right it was for him, and how much it pleased her. Her own place was an abundance of florals and kitsch.

“Sorry it is so dark in here. I don’t open the draperies during the day and at night I have excellent vision.” Corbin cleared his throat and gestured to the sofa. “Would you like to have a seat?” He had reverted to formality. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to pop in unannounced.

“Sure.” She sank onto a satin sofa, nearly slipping right off it onto the floor. “Slippery little sucker.” She gripped the armrest and laughed. “I like your apartment.”

“Thank you. It is convenient to have my lab right here. I connected this apartment with the one next door.” He gestured to an open door at the far end of the living room.

Brittany couldn’t see inside it, but she was curious if it would look like a hospital lab, sterile and computerized, or if it had a Dr. Frankenstein quality to it. “That does sound convenient.” They both went silent.

Damn it, why were they doing this again? They took two steps forward, then six back. They had had sex. Twice. With lots of moaning involved. They were having a child together. And yet they sounded like two strangers forced to sit next to each other at a wedding reception.

“Alexis said you stopped by last night,” she prompted.

“I wanted to make sure you were feeling all right.”

“Yeah. I was just tired, I think. And that class was too much after a long day at work.” She didn’t mention the needle.

“I’m sorry.”

This was painful. Brittany drummed her fingers on her knee. The night before, it had felt like they were close, like they had an understanding. Now? Nothing. He was blinking at her like an owl, his eyes darting to his lab several times. Clearly she had interrupted his work.

“Well, I’m on my way to go shopping. I need to get some maternity clothes for work and I just thought I’d stop by since you said you wanted to talk to me.” Hint, hint. God, she wanted him to say something meaningful. Something real. Something that wasn’t polite bullshit.

“Oh, I won’t keep you then.” Corbin stood up and pulled out his wallet. “Here, use this for your expenses.” He tried to hand her a platinum Visa card.

For some reason, that both appalled and offended her. She shook her head and didn’t take it. “I don’t need your credit card. I’m perfectly capable of paying for my own clothes.” She and Alex were Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

independent professional women. They didn’t need men taking care of them. And he couldn’t fob off his responsibilities by buying her maternity stretchy tops.

Even as her brain told her that wasn’t rational, he was just trying to help, her emotions were careening out of control. “If you really wanted to help, you could go with me. I need to register for baby gifts and it might be nice if you helped me pick out some of the choices. And we’ll probably need to get doubles of some things so you can keep them here at your apartment.” She glanced around, suddenly seeing the room with new, irritated eyes. It was hard to imagine a baby crawling alongside a hard-back of Dante’s Inferno , playing with Chinese porcelain. “And this place isn’t exactly childproofed.”

“Have I done something wrong?” Corbin asked in bewilderment, still holding his credit card. “Why are you angry with me?”

Because he wasn’t in love with her. Because they weren’t married. Because she couldn’t give her child the nuclear family she had craved so desperately when she was growing up.

“I’m not angry with you,” she snapped. “I just drove all the way over here from Summerlin in crappy traffic because I thought you wanted to talk to me, and you’re just staring at me. I hate this awkwardness. Either we are or we aren’t dating. It’s one or the other. Pick one now and forever hold your peace because I can’t do this, not when I need to have my head wrapped around parenting.” Way to be rational. Brittany sucked in a breath and tried to stay still, confident, on the sofa. It was difficult to achieve when her ass kept sliding around on the satin, but she gripped the cushion and held on valiantly. She wanted to retain her dignity when he told her he had no intention of dating a lunatic like herself.

Corbin narrowed his eyes. Frowned. Then shocked the hell out of her by saying in a firm voice, “We are. That is what I wanted to talk to you about. We are together. Zat is zat.” He squatted down before she could say anything and grabbed the back of her head. Dragging her forward, Corbin gave her a hard, possessive kiss. She let go of the couch and oozed into his arms.

Damn, it felt good there, flush up against his hard chest. He made her feel so sexy, so feminine. But Brittany yanked her mouth back and sucked in a breath. “What if I say we’re not dating?” Not that she would. But he needed to know she wasn’t some nineteenth-century sheltered miss. They were both going to wear pants in their relationship.

Given that his hand had started to wander over her nipple, Brittany didn’t think he was taking her threat seriously. He kissed her earlobe and ran his lips over her jaw. “Then I will do whatever it takes to convince you that we should be together. I will be devoted to you and our child. I will go to any store you want, read any baby book you want, and prove my sincerity to you. I will come to you every night and pleasure you for hours and hours until you no longer know your name, until you can’t imagine your bed without me in it. We will be together.”

His lips brushed hers. “Forever.”

Okay, she was gone. Melted like wax. He did it every time with that sensual arrogance, until she was ready to rip off her clothes and do the naked mambo with him. Like now. She kissed him back. He kissed her harder, taking her mouth with his tongue, sliding and dipping inside with intrusive demanding thrusts, his taste sweet.

Blame it on increased blood flow from pregnancy, but Brittany’s inner thighs fired up. She was already Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

reaching for his belt buckle when he pulled back.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“Where?” she asked stupidly, breathing hard. Corbin looked utterly unaffected by the lust she was feeling. Yet he could just glance at her and she wanted it. It was so bizarre.

“To the store. We are buying maternity clothes and doing the baby registry, yes?”

“You’re going with me?” She gawked at him. The baby registry, maybe, she had been hopeful, but maternity clothes shopping? Even her sister had refused to do that with her. It was like trying to find a bathing suit—a painful fluorescent lesson in reality.

“Yes.” He reached for her hand to help her up. “Zat is what you do when you are together, a man and a woman, and you are having a baby. You shop. And we are together. So we will shop.” The logic was there.

But Brittany wasn’t sure their unusual circumstances qualified them as a standard couple. On the other hand, normal was relative, and she was damn frightened to attempt purchasing a nursing bra all on her own.

“Baby Superstore, here we come,” she said.

Corbin sat on the bench outside the fitting room at the maternity shop and wondered how honest he should be.

Brittany had such a pleasing figure, long and shapely, that he would have thought her capable of wearing just about anything, but clearly he had been wrong. The black stretchy pants she had on seemed to shrink her by six inches, clung to her backside, and brought much more attention to the apex of her thighs than he could tolerate in a public setting.

“What do you think? They’re very comfortable, but I think my butt looks big in these.” This was a test. Corbin felt sweat creeping down his back. “I don’t care for the color.”

“They’re black.” She frowned at him. “How can you not like black?” She twisted in front of the mirror again, trying to get a better view of her behind.

“Your feet are going to be cold.” He shifted on the bench, waving away the saleswoman who had brought three more pairs of the stretchy pants in various colors. The black was bad enough. They sure in hell did not need them in pink.

“That’s true. Though it seems like I’m hot all the time lately.” Brittany twisted yet again, in the opposite direction.

He fought the urge to sigh. So he was bored and uncomfortable, feeling as though one wrong word might set her screaming at him. He didn’t imagine she was having fun either, and she seemed to need a second opinion. This was his duty. A painful, onerous duty.

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The store was stuffy and close. Brittany’s pile of “maybes” was in his lap. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair askew, and he knew now why she had been avoiding the chore. For every seventeen things she tried on, she found one item that both fit and she liked. It was hell on earth, filled with mirrors and hangers and sensor tags.

It was endless. Interminable. The questions were all incendiary:

“Why do my boobs look so huge?”

“Do you think these pants are mislabeled? They’re really tight.”

“What’s my best color?”

“Why is my nose so shiny?”

And worst of all, an hour and thirty minutes into the torture, a plaintive plea, made with big eyes and a trembling lip, “You don’t like my hair short, do you? I made a huge mistake cutting it, didn’t I?” Corbin stood up and set the piles of clothes onto the bench and moved toward her. He cupped her cheeks with his hands and brushed a kiss on her soft lips. “I love your hair,” he told her truthfully. If he had loved it more longer, no matter. “I love your body, I love your heart, the way you embrace life, your optimism, your passion, your tenderness, and selflessness.” He rested his hand on her belly, swelling slightly beneath the cotton shirt she had put on. “I love that you are the mother of my child.” I love you, he almost added, but the words stuck in his throat. It would sound like a balm, like a token gesture if he said it now, and he wasn’t sure if he even meant it exactly. He thought he did, but how was one really sure about these things?

Everything he spoke, he meant, and best to leave it at that.

She sniffled. “What the hell has happened to me? I’m never like this. But now I walk around feeling like I just got my eyebrows waxed. Stunned and watery-eyed. It’s so annoying.”

“I think it is called hormones.” He tucked her short hair behind her ear.

She promptly popped it back out. “Don’t do that. I hate the way it feels.” Then she immediately made a face. “Ugh. Listen to me. I sound so bitchy and whiny.” Her words, not his. Corbin decided he needed to take control of the situation. “This is exhausting, that’s all. We’ve done enough for today.” He plucked at the pants she was wearing. “I don’t like these as much as the others. Leave this pair and get the jeans.” Turning, he gathered up what she’d piled on his lap.

“You have four outfits here, plus you can wear some of the items together. It is enough for tonight.” She looked relieved to have him making decisions. Nodding, she headed back for the fitting room. “I’ll just try on the bras then, because I have to get a couple of new ones. I’m going to suffocate in my old ones.”

Corbin flagged down the saleswoman and handed her the pile. “Can you start ringing these up, please?” So they could get the hell out of there.

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“Corbin?” Brittany called from behind the closed door. “I need some help.”

“Do you need a different size? Pass it over and I’ll get the clerk.”

“No, I need you to adjust these straps.” The door opened a crack and her face peeked out. “Can you just slip in here with me?”

That did not seem appropriate in the least for him to join her inside the fitting room in full view of anyone in the store, but this was not Regency England, but Vegas in the twenty-first century. At times he had to remind himself the same rules of etiquette did not apply.

He went into the fitting room, squeezing himself in sideways so he wouldn’t expose her to the room at large. Brittany was standing there in her panties and a bra with the tags dangling from it, her hands holding straps that were clearly too loose. It was nice to see she hadn’t gone to what Justin had called granny panties yet. She was wearing a black thong. That was good. But it was bad that he suddenly had an erection wholly inappropriate for the setting.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked, trying not to stare at her burgeoning breasts. Her smooth thighs. Her bare, tight backside, reflected clearly in the mirror. The triangle of her black panties hugging her femininity in front. Corbin’s mouth went dry and his fangs let down.

“Just adjust the little white clip thing and make the straps shorter. It’s all the way in the back and I can’t reach it.”

She turned around, holding the straps where she wanted them, so he could see the excess length gaping.

Swallowing hard, he studied the little prongs and tried to determine how they worked. The sound of her breathing, the beating of her heart, were distracting him. And he would swear on his mother’s grave that he was catching the scent of arousal from her. She was enjoying standing nearly naked in front of him.

The thought increased his own ardor. Nine weeks was not a long time for a vampire, but it felt like forever, plus one day, for Corbin. He could not wait another minute to touch Brittany, to feel her skin, to taste her rushing, vibrant blood.

Moving the prong upward, he shortened the length of the strap, brushing his fingers over her flesh as he went to the other. He adjusted it as well, then looked at her in the mirror. “How does that feel?”

“It’s better,” she said, voice a little husky.

With his index finger he reached around and traced the outline of the bra, above the cotton, where her flesh was spilling forward. “You are sure it es not too small?”

“I don’t think so. It feels comfortable.”

Corbin flipped the straps down her shoulders. “Maybe you should try another to be certain.” Undoing the back hook, he stripped it off her efficiently.

Her breath caught and she met his gaze in the mirror. “I did pick out a black one, too.” Tossing the bra over the door to dangle there, Corbin stared at Brittany reflected in front of him.

“You’re gorgeous,” he told her, moving his hands to cup her firm breasts. He kissed her shoulder, and ran his touch down to her belly, swollen in an intriguing bubble. “I thought you were sexy before, but Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

now, with my child inside you, I am speechless at how beautiful you are.” Her eyes drifted close as he caressed over her flesh. “Thank you. I feel really good right now... I’ve heard the middle trimester is the easiest. We should probably take advantage of that.” That sounded like an invitation to him. Corbin teased her panties forward and slipped a finger down, down, right into her welcoming moist body. He had been right about her arousal. She was ready for him.

Brittany gave a soft gasp.

“Let’s take advantage of that right now,” he said.

“Here?” She sounded shocked, but her hips began to move, ever so slowly, rocking herself onto his finger. “I don’t know... ”

It wasn’t a convincing protest, so Corbin peeled her panties down, kissing the back of her neck. “You feel so good. I have missed you.”

The panties hit the floor with a soft thump and Corbin yanked off his shirt, unzipped his pants so he could feel his body against hers. When his skin touched hers, his chest to her back, he closed his eyes, reveled in the way she felt, his senses on high alert.

He moved his finger inside her, nudging her thighs apart. Brittany’s breathing was tight, stifled, quicker and quicker as he stroked faster and deeper. Her backside pressed against his erection, and he wanted her fiercely, wanted her with a primal irrational intensity. It had been like this the first night with her, and the second, and now again... it was different than with other women, unsophisticated, raw, reckless. He was different.

“Corbin,” she whispered. “I can’t help it, I’m going to... ” Opening his eyes to catch the view, he watched her climax in the mirror, saw how her fingers fluttered toward the wall, enjoyed the way she bit her lip to hold back her cry, watched the graceful curve of her neck as her head tilted back. Her jugular pulsed violently, her heartbeat fast and erratic to his vampire ears. A beautiful, amazing sight, and a satisfying thing to know he could make her feel that way, that he could coax her naked in a fitting room, that he, and he alone, had planted a seed in her womb and brought a child to life.

She was his.

And as he entered her from behind, sliding his aching cock into her softness, he bit her shoulder, holding her in place, keeping her locked to him, with him, together. A soft moan escaped her, and Corbin would have responded in kind except he was tasting her blood, drowning in the ecstasy of blending her with him everywhere, burying himself in her thighs while his teeth sank into her vein. He wouldn’t take too much, because of the baby, but just enough to slide her taste past his lips and tongue, enough to feel their thoughts intermingle.

There weren’t coherent sentences emerging from Brittany, but thoughts and feelings. He could hear, feel, sense pleasure, wonder, hope emanating from her in wave after wave.

Brittany, he murmured in his head, wanting to see if that bond between them, strangely absent in recent months, was there, intact. Do you like the way I feel inside you?

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Yes, she answered, clearly and immediately. I really like it. You have the most amazing cock.

Corbin broke his bite and groaned out loud, feeling his body tighten as he thrust harder. What man wouldn’t want to hear that ? She could be lying, ego stroking, reciting a line from a pornographic film, he didn’t care. Her words sent him crashing into an orgasm, his fingers digging into her thighs.

“Brittany,” he groaned as he pushed forward, knocking her into the mirror, her hands and forehead slapping the glass. “Beautiful Brittany.”

Her lips moved, no sound emanating, as she had another small orgasm, her body clenching his, coaxing his climax to linger. He was slowing down, but unwilling to retreat from the warmth of her entirely when a knock on the door made them both jump.

“Is everything okay?” the salesclerk asked.

“Fine,” he said, his voice coming out in a growl.

“Then could you leave the fitting room, sir? It’s not really good for business.” Brittany gave a soft laugh. “Whoops. We got carried away, didn’t we?”

“I am helping her try on ze clothes,” Corbin said with as much dignity as he could muster with his manhood still out of his pants.

“Um-hm,” was the clerk’s response.

Corbin licked Brittany’s shoulder to heal the puncture wounds he had made and pulled back with both satisfaction and regret. They would have to continue this at home.

She bent over and scooped up her panties. “I feel ready to take on the Baby Superstore now. That was very relaxing.”

Relaxing? Corbin felt tight everywhere, like his pants had shrunk. He did not want to shop for baby bottles. He wanted to take Brittany home and make love to her slowly and skillfully all night long.

“Ze Baby Superstore?” He wiped his mouth and zipped, handing her the jeans she’d been wearing from the hook on the door.

“Yes. It’s so much easier to register now. All we have to do is scan and go. Piece of cake.” Eleven

Nothing was a piece of cake with Corbin. Brittany scratched her itchy stomach through her shirt and watched her bloodsucking boyfriend assess car seats. After his initial exclamation of, “Why the hell are there so many?” he had methodically started at one end and was reading the features of each seat.

Fortunately, he read quickly, his lips moving as he ticked them off down the line. Halfway through the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

twenty models, he looked at her and said, “When I was a boy, my nanny just held me on her lap.”

“Unless you’re a celebrity, that will get you arrested nowadays.” She really wanted to tell him to just pick one, damn it, but she’d already tried that in the baby monitor aisle and had mortally wounded his feelings. Even worse, it hadn’t made him move any faster. Apparently vampires were used to disposable time, because Corbin moved like molasses uphill in a snowstorm.

“I think this one is too masculine. What if it is a girl?” He gestured to the stripped navy blue car seat.

Brittany didn’t think she cared, really. It wasn’t like their daughter was going to have a gender crisis because her car seat was blue, and besides, she didn’t believe in encouraging those kinds of stereotypes.

But if it helped him narrow the list down, she’d be down with blue. “Good point.”

“Then again, on the other hand, this has the highest safety ranking.” If he weren’t so damn adorable, Brittany would be sorry she’d brought him. But he was adorable. He was so sweet and concentrating so hard, so flippin’ cute, that she wanted to just eat him up whole. How lucky could she be? She’d had unprotected sex with a vampire she barely knew from Adam and gotten pregnant, not an auspicious beginning. But not only had he stepped up to the plate to accept his responsibility, he was giving her hot fitting room sex and debating the pros and cons of car seats like they were sinking half a million dollars into buying a house, not spending a hundred on a carrier seat they’d use for a whopping six months. Because he cared about their baby’s safety. Swoon.

Not every girl pregnant by a vampire was going to be that lucky, you know.

But it still made for a long night. Thank God the store was open until midnight. She would have previously wondered who shopped for baby supplies at eleven at night, but now she had her answer.

Tired fathers buying formula and diapers, stressed-out mothers dashing in to pick up infant Tylenol, crying, red-faced babies in their arms, and pregnant dentists whose undead partners slept all day long.

When Corbin had narrowed it down to three models, he asked her opinion. “Which one?”

“I think this one,” she said, pointing to one at random, liking its earthy tone.

“It looks more difficult to maneuver than the others,” he said with a frown.

“Then this one.” She pointed to the green one.

“The canopy doesn’t extend as far.”

“Then how about this one?” She pointed to the last remaining one, two models down from the others.

He nodded. “Good choice.”

Brittany almost rolled her eyes. Instead, she just handed him the scanner. He was really enjoying adding items to their registry with the little wand. Clicking the button and capturing the bar code brought a smile to his face every time he used it. Now he wielded the wand like a saber and slashed through the air, scanning at an angle.

“There. It es on ze list.”

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Men never changed. They could turn anything into a toy or a weapon.

“Zap one of those headrest things while you’re at it.” There were only three choices, all looking very nearly the same. “Just pick the cheapest one.”

To her amazement, he actually complied. “On to ze high chairs,” he said, consulting the New Parent checklist he had in his other hand.

Brittany noticed that the intense concentration of baby registry sign-up had impacted his English. He sounded fresh from Paris. Not that his vocabulary in English was lacking, because the extensiveness of that constantly amazed her. But he could never entirely shed his accent. It suddenly made her wonder if he would teach their baby French. How cool. Her baby would be bilingual. So when her child was annoyed with her that she had to clean her room, she could bitch about it in French and Brittany would never know what she was saying. Maybe not such a good thing after all.

“Who exactly is going to purchase these items for us? I still do not understand why we don’t just buy them ourselves,” he said as he ran his hand over a contemporary white high chair.

“Where does your money come from, Corbin?” she blurted out, suddenly curious.

He shrugged. “Family money. We were very wealthy in the nineteenth century and I was the last of the line, so it all came to me upon my parents’ death. I have lived modestly, the money has grown through investments. My research is funded by an ancient vampire, so I do not spend my personal money. I am very wealthy. Perfectly capable of seeing to all the needs of our infant.” He looked offended so she put out her hand. “Chill out. I wasn’t implying you couldn’t. I was just curious. And the whole point of registering is so people can buy us gifts. It’s tradition. People want to give gifts when you have your first child. Everyone at my office will be giving me gifts, and Ethan and Alexis will want to buy us something, and my college friends, my next-door neighbor, your vampire friends... ”

Making a face, Corbin said, “I do not have any friends.” He moved down the row. “Not these. Neither of us has this type of furnishing. We are more traditional.” Brittany felt her heart swell. She hadn’t meant to remind him of his loneliness. She hadn’t even realized the truth of what he had just said. Yes, Alexis, Ethan, and Cara had all told her Corbin was not accepted by most vampires, but she had figured he had some friends or comrades tucked away somewhere. She knew he was something of a loner, but that had always seemed like his choice to her. Now she understood that no matter what a certain eccentric scientist insisted, he missed simple companionship.

Going after him, she touched his arm. “Hey. I’m your friend.” Corbin smiled back at her, his thumb stroking across her cheek. “That you are. And it is a gift. I used to have friends, you know, when I was mortal. Even as a young vampire. But then, everyone died. And I didn’t bother to make new ones.” Corbin dropped his hand. “But I am grateful for your friendship. I did not realize how much I missed that.”

I love you, she wanted to say, knowing that she did, that Corbin was different, her feelings for him unique and deep, but she clamped her lips shut. It would sound like she was trying to make him feel better, like it was a declaration brought about by pity, not true feelings. She wished they could still read each other’s thoughts so he would see the truth in her heart, her head, her words written across her Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

consciousness. But for some reason, since the two-month separation they’d had, she hadn’t been able to hear him. Except for when they were having sex. And she didn’t think he heard her either, which bothered her.

“All work and no play isn’t good for anyone, not even a vampire. Don’t worry, I’m going to be dragging you out of the house a lot.” That should reassure him. She almost laughed at the look on his face.

“You are too kind,” he said dryly. Then he turned to a mahogany high chair. “This one?”

“Yes. It’s lovely.” And matched both of their distinct decors.

Damn, they got along so well. They were like poster children for mortal-vampire parents who weren’t married.

Brittany grinned when Corbin aggressively zapped with the scanner.

Everything was going to be so fine.

“What do you mean, your sister will be here in an hour?” Alexis looked around their apartment and tried not to panic. She was a crappy housekeeper. There were papers everywhere, bills piling up, a Wal-Mart bag full of toiletries on the breakfast bar, and various piles of laundry dotting the couch. “Brittany just asked if you could call Gwenna yesterday!”

“Actually, I invited her to visit several months ago, after you suggested that very thing. I thought you’d be pleased. This will give Brittany a chance to talk to her.” Men. “A little warning would be nice! The apartment’s a wreck and so am I.” Ethan looked baffled. “I don’t think Gwenna will care if we haven’t run the sweeper all week.” There was no time to argue with him about female dynamics and making a good first impression. She went into action, scooping up the laundry piles and tossing them willy-nilly into the basket. “Pick up all that paperwork! Shove it in a drawer or something or at least stack it all in one pile.” Running into the bedroom, Alexis tossed the basket in their closet and slammed the door shut. Damn it.

Their bed wasn’t even made. She whipped the comforter over the whole mess of rumpled sheets and smoothed it flat. Tossing pillows on top, she ran back and grabbed the Wal-Mart bag, tossing her hair out of her eyes. She needed to jump in the shower.

Ethan was neatly and carefully arranging his paperwork with zero sense of urgency. She was about to use aggressive karate persuasion to encourage him along when the doorbell rang.

“Oh, shit.” That couldn’t be her.

“It’s her,” Ethan said, looking delighted. “I can sense her.” Great. Now instead of just a messy house, she was all sweaty and wearing sweatpants with a messy house, when she officially met her sister-in-law. They hadn’t really talked at the wedding. Gwenna had popped in and out without ever saying hello. Alexis ditched the bag of shampoo and deodorant in a Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

kitchen cabinet. Not that she needed deodorant these days, but habits died hard. She felt naked without it. Attempting to finger-brush her hair was futile, but she did it anyway and pasted a smile on her face.

Ethan opened the door and ushered his sister into the apartment, giving her a big hug. “Gwenna. Alex and I are so glad you came.”

Gwenna hugged him back, but it was reserved, impatient. Alexis thought she looked as pale and tragic as she did at their wedding, but there was something different about her, the way she stood up straighter.

When she pulled back from Ethan, her wavy blond hair fell away from her face and revealed an expression of concern, fear.

“Is everything okay?” Alexis asked, suddenly worried herself.

Gwenna came to her, hands out. She clasped Alexis’s sturdy hands in her delicate ones, and looked up at her. She had pink lips, the color an almost feverish contrast to her fair skin. “Roberto is back. And he knows about the baby.”

“You are back earlier than we had agreed on.” Chechikov gave him a cool look over his glass of vodka.

Roberto Donatelli wasn’t intimidated. “I have personal interests to see to. And no one has to know that I’m here. I left my ankle band on my man Smith. I was shocked at how easy it was to remove. Law and order in the Nation has clearly suffered under Carrick’s rule.” He crossed one leg over the other, admiring Chechikov’s suite in the Bellagio. He was impressed with the understated elegance, furnishings done in soft blues and doeskin brown. “I imagine that someone could even get away with murder and it would go unpunished.”

“No doubt.” Chechikov tossed back his drink. “That is why I am here. That is why my name is going on the presidential ballot. It is time for me to restore the Nation to its former glory.” Donatelli approved of the end, though he had hoped the means would be him, not Chechikov. But he had allowed himself to be outmaneuvered by Carrick and Fox and had left the presidential race. He had underestimated Fox’s feelings for the stripper Cara, and had almost found himself without a head. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. “You know I am at your disposal.” Chechikov had been a reliable ally for two hundred years, and Donatelli had benefited from their arrangement, both financially and politically.

Now Gregor nodded to acknowledge Donatelli’s words. “And I appreciate your sharing the news about Atelier’s progeny.”

“Who is the mother?” Donatelli asked, curious. If Atelier was fucking around with a mortal, then he couldn’t be sleeping with Gwenna, as that little bitch Kelsey had implied. The thought of Gwenna in bed with that radical set his teeth on edge and made his anger flare. But if Atelier had an Impure plaything, he couldn’t be involved with Gwenna. Two women was not the Frenchman’s style.

“Ah, but that is interesting. Your little informant did not share the name with my wife, but it is of no matter because I have been doing a bit of investigating since I came to Las Vegas. It seems that Alexis Baldizzi-Carrick, first lady of the Nation, has a sister who is an Impure. Who is pregnant.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“If it was that easy to find out about the sister, why did we pay Ringo Columbia?”

“It was a thank-you gesture, that is all. We would not have connected the dots without your informant.”

“But how do you know Brittany Baldizzi’s child is Atelier’s?”

“She was seen in the company of Atelier two nights ago attending classes at the hospital—childbirth classes. Very, very careless of him. I’m surprised he isn’t showing more discretion.” That was surprising. Atelier wasn’t stupid, nor was he social. “Maybe the child isn’t his. Maybe he is playing up to Carrick for special favors.”

“By going to childbirth classes?” Gregor scoffed. “No, the baby is his.”

“That doesn’t explain his carelessness.”

“Perhaps he fancies himself in love with the girl.” Gregor smirked.

Donatelli didn’t return the grin. He knew all too well how idiotic a man could act when he allowed himself to feel emotion for a woman. That was why he was in town, risking his own neck, at that very moment. He had never been able to control his feelings toward Gwenna. Not since the first day he’d laid eyes on her nine hundred years before. She made him insane, with want, with greed, lust, anger. Love.

“Perhaps. And speaking of love, may I offer my congratulations on your marriage? Your wife must be absolutely charming to have coaxed you down the aisle, Gregor.” Roberto had caught a glimpse of long legs and flowing hair heading into the bedroom of the suite when he had entered, but he hadn’t seen her face.

Chechikov shrugged. “Sasha was something of a gift. And she’ll serve me well as we hit the campaign trail. A Master Vampire with a mortal wife—everyone will assume it is love.” His eyebrow went up in a way that made Donatelli’s skin crawl. “I’m a very romantic kind of man, you know, Donatelli. Did I ever tell you about my days serving the Prince of Kiev and how it was my duty to crush rebellions in the countryside?”

“No.” What the hell was the old lunatic talking about? Donatelli shifted in the plush club chair.

“I was known as the Black Bear, and men shook in fear when they saw me riding in with my warriors, as well they should have. We would kill them all, one by one, as a lesson for the next village, the next man who dared to defy the Prince, and after the men were all dead in the dirt, I took their filthy toothless women, one after the other, then let my men have them as well. If that isn’t romance, I don’t know what is.” He smiled, eyes unfocused, as if he was remembering with fondness his youthful exploits.

Donatelli kept his expression impassive, even as his stomach flipped over. He had never known quite how sick Chechikov was. And while Roberto had done what he had to to survive—had lied, manipulated, used violence and mind control, and subjugated others—he had never raped a woman.

Never would. Every man had his moral boundaries, and that was Donatelli’s. Murder he could stomach if it was justified; humiliation, torture, sure. But rape crossed the line.

“Now you’ll have to settle for the presidency. Not nearly as exciting.”

“True. But the power is the same, and the power is what I enjoy.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Didn’t they all.

Corbin was high on the power of the scanner and the growing rapport between himself and Brittany.

They were comfortable with each other in a way that had been missing previously, and it was pleasant, fun to be with her, while they made decisions about innumerable baby products, and laughed together at the ludicrousness of black leather jackets for infants.

They had registered for approximately nine thousand baby products, which led Corbin to wonder how human beings even managed to sustain themselves as a race if that much effort and expense went into their first year of life. But he had to confess, after the initial stress of too many options, he had enjoyed picking products out, and had even found himself with a sudden inexplicable attachment to the stars and moon nursery theme, picking the pattern whenever it was an option. Brittany had teased him about it, but she hadn’t protested, and had let him register for the whole bedding set, draperies, and wallpaper border. He thought perhaps it was his need for his child to appreciate the night, his father’s world. Or maybe he just liked the yellow stars. He wasn’t sure. He just knew he was grateful to be a part of the minutiae regarding his child, knew that suddenly everything felt important and wonderful and hopeful.

It was all those complex, myriad, and amazing feelings coursing through him that prompted Corbin to say to Brittany in the car, “Spend the night with me.”

She glanced over at him, leaning against the passenger door. “I have to go to work tomorrow. It’s already really late.”

He noticed then that she had circles under her eyes from fatigue, and she was leaning out of pure sleepiness. Even more reason he didn’t want to take her home. It would make him feel better to watch over her, ensure she was safe. He had work to do, and needed to feed, but he liked the idea of placing her in his bed, hearing her breathe while he was in the next room.

Raising his eyebrows up and down, he shot a grin at her before refocusing on the road. “I do not have designs on your person, ma chérie . I have already had that delight once tonight. But I am not ready to part from you. Does that make sense to you? I would just like you near me.” It was the right thing to say. Her expression softened. “Oh. I do know what you mean. And I did buy that sleep shirt from the maternity store... ”

“Then it’s settled. We’re much closer to my apartment anyway.” Pausing at a red light, he asked her,

“Do you think it’s a girl or a boy?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have any sense one way or the other.”

“I think it is a girl,” he said. There was no reason why he felt that way, he just did. And it was a new feeling to realize that for the first time in a long time, a great deal of his thoughts revolved around someone other than himself, and that he and Brittany shared a focus, shared the secret of their child. “What shall we name her?”

“God, I have no idea. There are a million choices.” She sighed, a good content sigh. “A girl would be nice. But so would a boy. I just want our baby to be healthy.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“She will be.” Corbin couldn’t guarantee that, any more than the average father to be, but he didn’t want Brittany to worry. He didn’t want to worry. He only wanted to discover who Brittany’s father was and test his vaccine, which he was sure was ready. Action was better than sitting back waiting for disaster.

“And I am fond of the name Renee.”

“That’s a nice name,” Brittany said in a voice that indicated she’d name their child Monkey before she’d choose Renee. “I was kind of thinking of the name Coco, though.” Corbin was horrified. “That is a dog’s name. It is not dignified. And I thought you said you had no ideas, no preferences.”

“It worked for Coco Chanel.”

That did not make it any less of a poodle’s name. “What about Chantal? Marie?”

“Does it have to be French?”

That took him aback. Mais oui was his first reaction. But he supposed that was a bit inflexible. “It would please me, but it is not a requirement. It is a decision we should make together.”

“We have plenty of time. And we should pick a boy name, too, just in case you’re wrong.” She patted his leg. “It can happen, you know. You being wrong.”

Was she calling him arrogant? Corbin frowned. “Occasionally. But not very often.” She laughed as they pulled into his apartment complex. Looking at the area in the dark, Corbin realized it was a bit shabby, not the safest neighborhood, lingering on the fringes of a crime-ridden neighborhood.

But he had chosen it for its proximity to downtown and the casinos, and crime didn’t bother him. He’d yet to meet a mortal man, gun or no gun, who was a match for his vampiric strength and speed.

Yet it wasn’t the place to bring Brittany to at midnight. Nor should he be raising a child in this area, not when he had the means to move.

Parking the car, he turned to her, and took her hand. His expression must have been serious, because her laughter died. “What? What’s wrong?”

He caressed her fingers in his. “Marry me. Let’s buy a house and really start a life together.” Her eyebrows shot up. “Just a few hours ago we agreed to officially be dating... now you want to get married?”

“Yes.” When put that way, it sounded a little less than rational, but his conviction did not change. “And if you recall, I have always wanted to get married.”

“You’re insane. You’re more impulsive than me. And I swear, that’s why I like you so much.” Corbin liked to think he was intuitive, not impulsive. He was a scientist. He did his work slowly and methodically, yes, but he also went with what modern slang called the gut instinct. It had served him in research, and he was certain it was right once again.

They had to get married.

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“I don’t want to do something crazy... I need to think... ” Knowing when to retreat, he kissed her forehead. “That you consider it is all I ask. We are good together.”

And they would stay together. He would do anything to ensure that.

Twelve

Maybe they should move in together.

Brittany lay in bed beside Corbin, knowing she needed to get up, go home, shower, head to the office.

But she was still sleepy, languid, warm under the comforter. And Corbin had just returned to bed for the day, and he was already asleep, his breathing steady, mouth slightly open. She liked being next to him and didn’t want to leave. It had been very nice to be waking up, dozing in and out as he had stripped down to his boxer shorts, climbed under the sheets, and given her a soft kiss. Just like it had felt comforting, safe, to go to sleep knowing he was working in the next room.

It felt right.

Maybe they could modify his marriage idea to cohabitation. It would be good to have several months together in that kind of intimate relationship before the baby arrived. Brittany was willing to take the plunge. She’d even give up her apartment, go halfsies with him on a house, or a condo, because if they moved in together, she would put her heart, her energy, her resources into making it work. That was the way she was, and she liked the picture of her and Corbin sitting on their patio, watching their baby play in the sandbox.

The one thing she couldn’t see herself doing was marrying him. That scared her and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because she was afraid to fail. Maybe it was because marriage had never brought her mother happiness. Maybe it was because in twenty years she’d be sagging and Corbin would still be gorgeous.

Or maybe it was because she was an idiot.

All were credible possibilities.

And the bottom line was if she had doubts, she shouldn’t marry him. Living together, though, that was different. That could work.

Trying not to disturb him, Brittany rolled to her left and shimmied out from under the sheet. It felt like her stomach had grown just since the night before, and the baby was making that fluttery ticklish sensation beneath her belly button. “Good morning,” she whispered to Coco Renee, or whoever she would wind up being, pressing her hand over the movement.

Brittany wandered into the other room, yawning. First thing they would have to fix when they moved in Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

together was the food situation.

“Jesus.” She blanched when she opened the fridge, hoping for OJ to miraculously appear, and instead found herself face to face with bags of blood. She should have known better. She never went in Alex’s refrigerator anymore.

“Note to self: Get two fridges for new house.” And what the hell was that noise?

Brittany heard a chirping beep over and over, coming from Corbin’s lab room. She glanced toward the door, curious in spite of herself. But strolling into a room full of viral test tubes didn’t seem like a hot idea.

On the other hand... maybe she could just poke her head around the corner. If anything were toxic, Corbin wouldn’t leave the door open.

A quick glance inside showed a room very normal in appearance. It looked like an office, with cabinets and laminate countertops running around three walls. There were test tubes and a refrigerator—she so did not want to know what was in there—but everything else seemed to be tucked away into the cabinets. Corbin was neat in his work space. It was one of the three computers that was making the noise. It seemed to be some kind of alarm alert, like Brittany’s reminder chime that went off the morning she had a doctor’s appointment.

What did Corbin have on his night’s schedule? Sample collection at eleven? She remembered how she had seen him using pleasure to daze a woman while he withdrew her blood, and she hoped like hell he’d stopped using that particular method. Science be damned, she wasn’t going to tolerate his lips on anyone else if they were going to make this work.

What exactly did Corbin do all night?

The question rolled around in her head, set her imagination racing. She doubted his research would make any sense to her, but then again she’d gotten a bachelor’s degree in biology, and had gone to dental school. She knew her anatomy and physiology, and had a rudimentary knowledge of pharmaceuticals in general, and a vast knowledge of analgesics. What exactly was involved in Corbin’s vaccine?

Glancing back toward the bedroom, she couldn’t see him because of the angle of the door, but Corbin wasn’t making any sound.

This was nosy and wrong. What if he had porn on his computer screen? What if he had financial data listed? What if he got e-mails from obsessive women who wanted him to bite them again?

But if it was any of the above, wasn’t she entitled to know?

Brittany chewed her bottom lip. Alex would have poked through his entire hard drive in the time she’d been standing there debating. She moved forward, tugging her sleep shirt down.

It wasn’t porn. A reassuring beginning.

The screen showed a row of numbers, and the beeping seemed to indicate Corbin needed to do something to continue on with whatever analysis or program he was running. Nothing particularly interesting. But it was what was sitting next to the computer that suddenly caught her attention. A plastic bag markedBALDIZZI, BRITTANY with a bar code underneath. And inside that bag was one of her dark hairs, still long from before she’d cut it.

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What the frick was that? Why did he have her hair and when had he taken it? The thought that he’d picked a hair off her pillow after they’d made love sat wrong. And if he was running tests on her for something, drugs, DNA, whatever, he could have mentioned it to her first. The bar code was labeled BB1977. Which she realized was the same damn code sitting right on Corbin’s computer screen. He was running her DNA through some kind of software. It wasn’t a spreadsheet she was seeing, it was a search.

Next to her number was another code—RD1021 and an explanatory paragraph that spouted a whole bunch of words and numbers, the end result of which was the claim that, given all points of comparison, the specimen matched to within a 0.4 percent margin of error, establishing a positive paternity.

Oh. My. God. Corbin had found her biological father. RD1021 was her father, whoever the hell he was.

“What do you mean? Who’s Roberto?” Alexis asked stupidly, her hands wrapped in Gwenna’s tiny ones.

“How could Donatelli know about the baby?” Ethan asked, looming behind her, his voice tight and angry.

“Donatelli?” Oh, crap. The last man in the world Alexis wanted to catch wind of her sister’s situation.

That pig would sell his mother for a quick buck. That is, if she hadn’t died about a thousand years earlier and Donatelli wasn’t a vampire.

“Yes, he knows. And he’s here, in Las Vegas, to investigate. I don’t think he knows your sister is the mother, but he knows there is a baby, the Frenchman’s child, and that he will be a special opportunity for bargaining with Atelier.”

“Bastard.” Alexis squeezed Gwenna’s hands, anger flaring. “I’ll kill him before he touches my niece or nephew.”

“How do you know Donatelli knows?”

Uh-oh. Big brother was suspicious. Alexis knew that tone from Ethan and it wasn’t a happy one. She let go of Gwenna and put her hand on his arm, feeling the taut, tense muscles.

Gwenna’s cheeks went pink and she looked at the floor. “I can still read Roberto’s thoughts if I try. He is open to me even if he doesn’t realize it. Normally nothing tempts me to listen, but two days ago, I felt sudden, intense anger from him—directed at me.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, her long, lithe fingers fluttering a little.

She reminded Alexis of a delicate bird, a white crane, or a tiny hummingbird. As they stared at her, she shifted uncomfortably, her movements self-conscious.

“I haven’t done anything to invoke his ire—not in several hundred years. I was surprised to feel that kind of anger. I thought we were past that, so I listened. It seems he had someone tell him that I was having, well, a love affair with the Frenchman. Which is ridiculous, of course,” she added in a rush. “And I think he knows that, but it still made him jealous. While I was gleaning this from him, I heard that he knows Atelier has impregnated an Impure, that there will be a three-quarter vampire child. As I said, he’s here Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

to see how that information can serve him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you can still hear his thoughts?” Ethan asked through gritted teeth.

That’s what he took from that extraordinary revelation? Alexis almost rolled her eyes. “Who cares? The point is, she can, and what she heard sucks. That impregnated Impure happens to be my sister.”

“Who told him?” Ethan put his hand in his hair and closed his eyes, like he was gathering his thoughts or his patience, maybe both.

The answer came to Alexis out of nowhere. “Ringo. Ringo and Kelsey. They left right after we found out Brittany was pregnant. And Ringo was there, in the apartment, with them when Brittany told Corbin. He must have overheard.” Even as she spoke, she became more and more convinced that was what had happened. Who else could have known?

“But how did Ringo contact Donatelli? He’s in New York. Or was.”

“Maybe they went to New York. They’ve been gone for two months. You should have sent someone to find him.” Like she had told him. Alexis didn’t think it was cool that Ringo had tried to kill her husband, got punished, then walked away and no one bothered to haul his butt back to Vegas. That kind of leniency rubbed her nerves raw as a prosecutor.

“It didn’t seem like a big deal to just let him go. I figured Kelsey would slow him down, peck at his conscience.”

“You’re too nice. Someone breaks the law, lock them up and throw away the key. Otherwise, there’s no point in even having the laws in the first place.”

“She a lawyer,” Ethan told Gwenna. “Don’t let her scare you.” Alexis smacked him. “I’m serious. You need to reevaluate this with your cabinet after the reelection is behind you. This is the first step to lawlessness, if vampire crime isn’t cracked down on.” Ethan studied her. “Maybe you’d like a job?”

“Are you serious?” Alexis thought that through.

“Yes, I’m serious. I have no experience with that, and the Nation has a criminal tribunal, but perhaps we need to clean house.”

“Sweet. I’d love to do that.” It was the only way she liked to clean—firing useless bureaucrats sounded much better than dusting. “But what do we do now about Donatelli and my sister?”

“He won’t hurt your sister,” Gwenna said. “I’m sure of it.” Alexis was not reassured. “Maybe not until the baby is born, but what about afterward?” Gwenna smoothed her hands down the front of her jeans. It amazed Alexis how thin and petite Gwenna was. That khaki blazer had to have come from BabyGap.

“Roberto is out for money and power. He won’t kill anyone.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Um, someone needed to give up the delusions. “He broke my arm the last time I saw him. He had a knife in Kelsey’s chest. I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him, Gwenna.”

“You’re still protecting him,” Ethan accused.

Face turning a mottled pink, Gwenna frowned at him. “I am not! I just know him. And he is capable of a lot, but hurting a pregnant woman or a baby is not his style.” She turned to Alexis. “You have to believe me, Alexis. I have my eyes open wide when it comes to Roberto, but I think we should discuss this with him. Pay him off. Money talks with him, and if he already knows the truth, it’s better to go on the offensive than the defensive. He can be reasonable.”

Alexis had spent too many years in criminal justice to think that someone capable of one crime wasn’t capable of an even bigger one. It wasn’t as big of a leap for a morally bankrupt person as most people thought. “If you trust him, why did you hide your daughter from him?” Gwenna gasped, all color leeching from her cheeks.

Way to foster a relationship with the in-laws. But Alexis thought it was a legitimate question.

Ethan’s cell phone rang and he dug it out of his pocket. “It’s Seamus. Let me grab this.” As he moved across the room, Alexis sighed. “Look, that didn’t sound right... ”

“It’s a legitimate question. And the truth is that I was young and foolish, and did whatever my brother thought was the right action to take because I had never made any decisions on my own. I was heartbroken and convinced Roberto had seduced and abandoned me, that I was nothing but a momentary diversion to him. I didn’t even know how to get in touch with him at the time the babe was born, and Ethan assured me he was missing. My daughter only lived twenty-five years, during which time I never saw Roberto. When I met him again hundreds of years later, he remembered me, professed love for me. And he did, in his way. I married him, but I never told him about our daughter, because it hurt to speak of her, and there are some things you don’t say to Roberto, do you understand? He would never have forgiven me, so I kept quiet. It was fear, yes, but not the fear you imagine.”

“I’m sorry.” Alexis didn’t know what else to say. Her social skills basically sucked. Brittany would know how to be comforting, but Alexis was better at kicking ass. “You don’t have to say anything else; it’s none of my business.”

Gwenna smiled. “It’s not for you to be sorry. I want to be honest, and I want you to understand. I left him because I know that he is lacking in morals, that he has flaws that cannot be ignored, that he can be cruel and violent. I don’t kid myself. But he does have lines he will not cross, and trust me, he won’t hurt the baby.”

“We have a spot of trouble,” Ethan said, returning his phone to his pocket, expression grim.

“Wonderful. What now?”

“The opposition has just announced their candidate for president. It is Gregor Chechikov.”

“Gregor?” Gwenna started. “I thought he never left Russia anymore.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“So did I. But he is here in Vegas, and ready to hit the campaign trail. With his new mortal wife.”

“What’s so special about this guy?” Alexis asked, annoyed that everyone else had about a millennium of knowledge she didn’t possess. She needed to sit down and read the CliffsNotes on vampire history.

“Let’s just say he’s not a nice guy. I’ve never had the misfortune to run across him personally, since he has stayed out of politics for the last several hundred years, but he is something of a vampire legend. A cult figure for vampire arrogance and population growth.” Alexis didn’t like the sound of that. “So people will actually vote for him?” Ethan nodded, lips pressed tight together, shoulders taut. “And he has a very real chance of winning.

Which means I will have no governmental power to protect Brittany and the baby. Or even Atelier’s research, for that matter.”

The blood she’d had for dinner soured in her stomach. “That’s it. We’re putting her in a vampire witness protection program. We’ll change her identity and move her to Alaska. Christ, Ethan. How hard would it have been for him to use a condom?”

Mothers had probably been asking that about their daughter’s defilers since the Egyptians.

But Brittany was a big girl who had made her own choices and Alexis hated it.

It took Brittany all of three seconds to decide to go wake Corbin up. He could sleep later, she needed answers now.

Leaning over him, she touched his arm, intending to gently shake him awake. But the minute she made contact, Corbin’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm in a steely grip and twisted it up and away from him.

“Ow, Corbin!”

His eyes had sprung open, and the second he saw it was her, he let go. “I am sorry. Are you all right? It is a reflex, instinctive, from my days as a soldier. And perhaps it is a vampire trait.” Sitting up, he rubbed at her arm, kissing it, looking sleep warm and tousled. “What is wrong? Did you need me for something, ma chérie ?”

Brittany allowed herself half a second to enjoy the way his tongue felt traipsing across the inside of her palm, then she gently extracted her hand. “Your computer was beeping, making all kinds of a racket. I didn’t want it to wake you up, so I went to see if I could stop it.” Okay, that was kind of a lie, but her nosiness wasn’t the issue at the moment.

“You didn’t touch anything, did you?” he asked, pushing the sheet completely off him.

“No.” Maybe she had touched the plastic bag, but geez, she wasn’t stupid enough to start clicking buttons on his computer. Okay, she had just said that’s what she’d gone to do. Which she hadn’t. She’d gone to be nosy and see what was in there. Not that she needed to explain herself. He needed to explain himself.

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“Good.” He sighed in obvious relief.

“Why is there one of my hairs on your desk? And is that my DNA on your screen?” Yeah, that was guilt. He looked down at his feet, hands on his bare knees. “I have run your DNA, yes, to isolate the vampire gene. It is just better to have some rudimentary knowledge of your sequence before the baby is born.”

That sounded like half an answer. “Why? And didn’t it occur to you that you could have asked for my cooperation? Discussed this with me?”

“No, that did not occur to me.” Corbin stood up, bare-chested and gorgeous, damn him.

His boxer shorts clung high on his hips, bunched up, before dropping down to cover his thighs. “Brittany, I have made every decision for the last two hundred years entirely on my own, with no thought to anyone else’s opinion. I am not used to discussing what I view as inconsequential. You will have to forgive me, and I will have to try to adjust.” He brushed a kiss on her lips, his hands on her shoulders. “We will have to remember that it will take time to learn how to be together. Especially for me.” That was all fine and good, but the weightier question had yet to be asked. “Who is RD1021?”

“What?”

Brittany felt her panic rising like a balloon in her chest. Did she really want to know who her father was?

And why the hell was it any of Corbin’s business, or his decision to uncover that truth? “In your database. It’s bad enough that you were analyzing my DNA without telling me, but you had no right to conduct a search for my biological father without asking me how I felt about it.”

“Brittany... ”

He reached for her, but she pulled away, putting her arms over her chest. “Maybe I didn’t want to know. Maybe it’s irrelevant to me, and I’ve been fine without a father. And now you’ve taken that decisiosn away from me. RD1021 is my father, and now I feel like I have to know who that is.” It had been easy to walk around not caring who her father was when there was no possibility of ever learning his identity, but now she had to know his name, and that scared her. The reality was he could be a jerk, dead, insane, creepy—and that DNA was in her, and in her child.

“There was a match?” Corbin said.

About to answer, she suddenly realized she was standing in the room by herself. “Corbin? Where the hell are you?” And could he piss her off any more?

“Sorry,” he called from the other room. “I’m in the lab. I cannot believe there was a match so quickly.

This is fantastic.”

Said he. Brittany fast-walked into the other room in her sleep shirt, glancing at her watch. She was going to be late to the office in about another twenty minutes, but she needed answers. Like who her father was and why Corbin looked like he could turn a vampire cartwheel. He was grinning.

“This is good, very good.”

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“Why?” Brittany went up to where he was leaning over the computer, using the mouse to click on something. She touched his shoulder, squeezing hard. He didn’t seem to understand she was annoyed.

“Can you please tell me what is going on? Why do you care who my father is?” He didn’t answer, just kept clicking and scrolling and scanning with his eyes, at one point his finger running down the screen.

Brittany went from annoyed to dangerous female. She inserted herself between the computer and him, knocking his leg out of the way and bending over to face off with him. “I want answers, Atelier, and I want them now. Why did you do this search? Why does it matter who my father is?” Corbin looked startled. “For the child, of course. Because your father may be politically powerful or he may be inconsequential. That matters in regard to what he can do for our child.” Brittany leaned back, not sure what to make of that. “I don’t care about getting our baby into a paranormal Princeton. I’m not going to make contact with a man I’ve never met just so he can grease wheels for our kid.”

His fingers drummed on the armrest of his office chair, and he stared to the right, not looking at her.

It hit her that he was lying. Just flat-out lying to her. She knew him well enough now to see it in the subtle shifting of his mouth, his lips flat together, the way he wouldn’t meet her eye. The stiffness of his shoulders. She shook her head, rubbing her temples. “Why else does it matter? You’d better come clean with me right this minute or I’m walking out this door and not coming back.” Swinging his head back, he stared at her. “You cannot!”

“I can and I will.” Even with tears stinging the back of her eyes, she managed to keep the tremor out of her voice. “I deserve respect, Corbin. I’m not afraid of being alone. I never have been. I would rather be on my own than in a relationship that isn’t honest.”

She gave him a minute to decide. He tried to see around her to the screen, but she moved to block his view.

“Damn it,” he said, falling back against the chair. “Do not do this.” There was no point in responding to that. Brittany just waited.

He gave a sigh of extreme irritation. “All right then, listen to me. You have to understand that I thought it was safer not to divulge all my concerns to you initially.” Okay, so he’d chosen to lie to her. Not an auspicious beginning. “What concerns?” Clearing his throat, he finally looked at her. His expression chilled her insides, a shiver rippling over her in a waterfall effect.

“If our child has the genetic conclusion I think he will, then he will be immortal, but will not need to feed.” Immortal? Brittany tried to process that. But Corbin wasn’t finished.

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“When the birth of our child becomes general knowledge, there will be those who want him. For research. To figure out how to reproduce such genetics again. Because a man who is immortal, with all of the strength of the vampire, and none of the vulnerabilities of needing blood and night dwelling, represents a new race, and ultimately power. Do you understand? That is why I stayed away from you. I did not want anyone to know that the child was mine. I thought I could enter your life publicly later in your pregnancy, letting everyone assume I was not the father, and I could marry you to protect our child. And who your father is could assist us in protecting our child, as well as give us clues to gauge exactly what the child’s abilities will be.”

Brittany shook her head, trying to process what he was saying. It was incomprehensible. The implication of what he had just presented to her... “Our child is in danger and you didn’t bother to tell me? Why didn’t you let me know what we’re dealing with here?” She jerked her hand through her hair, frustration and fear colliding. “My God, I feel like such an idiot. I’ve been worried about baby registries! I’ve been picturing moving into a little adobe house with a playset in the yard. How could you let me think everything was fine, was normal, when it’s not? God, I’m like Bubble Brittany! No clue what’s going on.

How could I possibly protect our child if I had no idea what was going on?” Pushing away from the desk, she let the tears go. She felt sick. If her child was in danger, she had no idea how to deal with that. “Does anyone else know what you just told me?”

“Carrick and your sister do.”

“Oh!” Betrayed by her own sister.

“And I imagine Carrick’s sister and Seamus Fox understand the implications.” Great. Everyone knew what the hell was going on but her. “I’m leaving.” She needed to get away from him. She felt like a total fool, lying in bed that morning thinking all kinds of delicious thoughts about houses and making love to Corbin every day... falling in love. It was all an illusion and she was angry and scared.

He grabbed the hem of her T-shirt, pulling her back. “Hey. Do not leave like this. We need to talk.”

“About what? How you’re a jerk?” And to think, she’d actually thought he wanted to marry her because he had feelings for her. Instead he just wanted to act as bodyguard. Talk about delusional. Now she knew how her mother had found herself in so many lousy relationships. It was very easy to see what you wanted to when you cared about a man.

“Now be reasonable.”

When tugging didn’t get him to release her shirt, she smacked at his hand, feeling slightly hysterical.

Where were Alexis’s karate chops when she needed them? “Kiss my pregnant ass. You’re a lying, bloodsucking bastard.”

His jaw dropped. “Brittany... I do not know what to say. You need to understand I did this for your protection. What was the point in you worrying about something you could not fix? I wanted your pregnancy to be free of stress.”

How thoughtful of him. She wasn’t buying it. “You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want me to say no to marrying you. You decided you were right, so in order to convince me to go along with your plans, you just didn’t tell me.”

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Score. His eyes shifted and he let go of her shirt. Guilty as charged.

And damn it, that hurt. Eyes blurring, Brittany moved away from him. She needed her pants. And a ride.

Shit.

“Brittany... ”

Not wanting to hang around for a load of crap, she brushed at her tears and started for the door. She was going to break down and she did not want to do it in front of him.

“Wait, Brittany, don’t go. Mon Dieu. I know who your father is.” That stopped her. She turned around. He didn’t look so good, eyes locked on the computer screen. His face was ash white. That didn’t bode well. Heart hammering in her chest, she touched her stomach. “Can he... help us?”

Corbin shook his head slowly back and forth. “No, ma chérie . He cannot help us.” He turned to her, expression grave, stunned. “Your father is Roberto Donatelli.” Thirteen

Nag, nag, nag. Ringo glared at Kelsey. “Whatta you want me to do? Turn myself in? Fuck that. They want me, they can come after me.”

He’d married her. He’d come back to Vegas, he had gotten them twenty-five grand. But it wasn’t enough for her. She wanted him to apologize to the tribunal for leaving? No chance in hell. Next she’d ask him to get her stupid secretary job back.

“But if you turn yourself in, they’ll be nicer.” She bit her fingernail and paced the floor.

They were staying at the Hilton, where Elvis had slept. It wasn’t glitz, but it was still pretty damn nice as far as he was concerned. Yet not one word of appreciation from her. All she could do was complain—about losing her job, about his dealings with Donatelli, about his chain smoking.

“Ain’t nobody going to be nice to me, babe. Get that through your ditzy head.” He lit another cigarette in defiance, even though there was still a haze lingering in the room from his last four.

The silly bitch yanked the smoke right out of his mouth. He was so shocked he didn’t even try to stop her. But as he watched her grind it out, his temper climbed. “Oh, you’re really pushing it now.”

“Listen to me.” She met his gaze unflinchingly and didn’t quail when he moved toward her. “You’re losing your grip. You need to back up, Ringo, and get control of yourself.” It was so different from her usual quirky self-love talk, which went in all those circles he could never understand, he hesitated. “What are you talking about?” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“I mean you’re about to crack. You know it. I know it. You need to stop denying it and deal with what happened with Kyle.”

“What do you know about it? You don’t know anything. You know his name, and the rest of it is none of your damn business.” How dare she bring his brother into their shit? This wasn’t about how Kyle had died, this was about her turning into some kind of schoolteacher, lecturing him about right and wrong.

He needed some air. He headed for the door.

She stepped in front of him, spreading her legs apart in her tight jeans, hot pink T-shirt riding up. Nothing tough about her appearance, but her face looked pretty damn determined. “I’m going to ask Mr. Carrick for my job back.”

It was the one thing she could have said that would piss him off even further. “You don’t care how I feel, do you? You don’t give two shits about how it makes me feel to have my wife crawling on hands and knees back to that sanctimonious prick begging for a job. Like he ever kept you around for your secretarial skills. Please. You want your stupid bimbo job back so bad? Fine, I don’t give a shit. Do what you need to do.” He flicked his hair out of his eyes and moved around her. “Blow him for all I care.

I’m sure you have before.”

“Ringo.”

“What?” He turned around, hand on the doorknob.

Her hand slammed across his cheek with impressive velocity, and his head snapped back, teeth sinking into his tongue. “What the fuck!” His face stung, eyes filling with water from the impact. For a stick, she packed some force.

“That’s for making me sound like a whore.”

“Whatever.” Blinking hard to clear his vision, he patted his pocket to make sure a good-size wad was there, and walked out the door.

He jumped on the Monorail and twenty minutes later he was knocking on Donatelli’s suite at the Venetian. Bastard was intriguingly predictable. He’d gone right back to his old room.

A bodyguard that Ringo had worked with back in his days on Donatelli’s security force opened the door. Ringo just nodded to him and strolled on past.

Donatelli was watching HGTV. A home makeover show. God, what a weirdo.

“Columbia. Can I help you?” Donatelli turned the volume down two notches and glanced at him impassively, leg crossed over his knee. “I don’t imagine you’re here to return the money you stole from my wallet.”

“How much for a pint?” His hand shook, so he stuck it in his pocket.

The man who had made him a vampire, and turned him into a heroin addict, smiled. “For you? I’ll give it to you for nothing. Consider it a wedding gift from me.” Ringo should be humiliated by that self-satisfied smirk on the Italian’s face, but he was too thirsty to Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

care. “Thanks.”

Donatelli stood. “Have a seat by the window. It’s a beautiful night.” Ringo followed, hating himself for doing this, hating Kelsey for driving him to it, hating Donatelli for being so damn accommodating.

Their butts were barely in two chairs facing the skyscape when the bodyguard was there with two large goblets of blood, one clear glass, one an aquamarine color that turned the blood a deep, rich purple color. He was given that one, and Ringo leaned back, closed his eyes, smelled the tangy aroma before tipping the glass, letting it fill his mouth.

It was gone in two swallows. Ringo shuddered as it slid through him, fanning out over his eager, quivering body. He opened his eyes and stared at the Vegas night. All the lights glowed hot and white against the dark of the sky. The colors blended and shifted, fuzzing in and out, and he stared at it, mesmerized. Relaxing.

Everything was going to be okay. He was okay. Licking the rim of the glass, he said, “How about a double?”

“Sure. And then there’s something I’d like to discuss with you. A job.”

“A job?” Ringo blinked, his head feeling heavy. Donatelli must want him to kill someone. He was good at that. Never made a mess.

Kelsey would be mad at him. But he was his own man. He could do whatever he wanted. And at the moment, he’d literally kill for another drink. “I can do a job for you, no problem.” Donatelli smiled. “Fill Mr. Columbia’s glass up again, Williams.” Amen to that. Ringo held his goblet up.

Oh, wonderful. Her father was Donatelli, a psychotic political power monger who tortured, pushed drugs, and gave bad speeches. This was just the cherry on the sundae of her day.

“Are you sure?” Duh. Of course he was sure. She was sure, having seen the results on the screen herself. If Donatelli was RD1021, there was a 99.6 percent chance he was her father. Which meant he was. Damn it.

“Yes, I am sure.”

Good thing he wasn’t going to sugarcoat it for her. Brittany’s face felt hot, a coppery taste in her mouth.

For a second she thought she was going to faint, but she remained standing, a sudden wet sensation under her nose distracting her as she wiped at it. “I’m bleeding!” Corbin whipped his head around and jumped out of the chair, actually hitting her leg with it. “What happened?”

“Nothing, I don’t know.” She swiped again, more scarlet blood on her finger. “I have a nosebleed! I’ve Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

never had a nosebleed before.”

He patted his boxer shorts, as if a hanky might appear, then did his vampire speed trick, returning in two seconds with a wet washcloth. “Pinch your nose slightly. It’s just the pregnancy. Increased blood flow.

Nosebleeds are common in the second trimester.”

“How du you nowb?” she asked, words thick from squeezing her nose shut. Closing her eyes, she fought a rising panic. Her father was a loon. Her mother had slept with a nutcase. The man she was falling in love with wanted to marry her only to protect their child from evil vampire forces. And she was going to die from a nosebleed.

“I read one of those baby manuals. What to expect when you are birthing an enfant or something like that.”

Somehow she didn’t think any book was titled that, but it wasn’t the time to quibble. She let go of her nose and gave a test sniffle. It seemed to have stopped bleeding as quickly as it had started. “Does Donatelli know he’s my father?”

Corbin shook his head. “I doubt it. If he did, he would have raised the issue during the election. He would have approached you long before Carrick did.”

He went back to the computer and started clicking again, moving files.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m deleting this match. In fact, I’m deleting your DNA results altogether from my database. I do not want Donatelli or anyone else to know that he is your biological father.”

“Why not?” she asked, even as she knew the answer.

“He’ll want the baby, Brittany. He’ll want to raise the child, groom him for power. You are carrying his grandchild. He’ll see the possibilities and want to act on them.” Damn it, that’s what she’d been hoping he wouldn’t say.“No, Corbin, no. No, no, no. We can’t let him do that.” The thought of that man with her child—influencing her, keeping her from a normal, nurturing life—made every cell in her body vibrate in protest. It made her want to dissolve into a full-fledged hysterical panic. But she couldn’t. She needed to act, and it seemed there was only one obvious solution.

“Shit. I just need to leave, don’t I? I need to change my hair, my name, start over somewhere else. Hide from him. Never let anyone know.”

Corbin stopped clicking and deleting, and slowly rubbed his forehead. “Mon Dieu. Brittany.” He turned to her and his face was hard, eyes agonized, a rich cobalt blue. “Maybe that would be the smartest thing to do. At least temporarily. If anyone asked, Alexis can just say her sister had moved to California or something. And then you can go to Atlanta or Boston, somewhere far from California. Hell, maybe Europe or India and get lost in the crowd.”

Wet washcloth wrung between her hands, Brittany nodded. “I’ll have to tell Alexis and Ethan, but no one else.”

“I’ll destroy all evidence of the biological connection. I will move my other files, then destroy this hard drive. It will take me a few hours.”

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“Can you stay awake?” She knew how hard it was for vampires to function during the day.

“I’ll have to.” He nodded. “It will be fine. Everything is fine. You go and pack and I’ll pick you up tonight. We can leave immediately.”

That stopped her. Her mind had been racing ahead, mentally picking a replacement for her dental practice until she could sell it, trying to decide where she’d want to live, what her name might be. How she would need Ethan’s help to establish a new identity for herself. An identity by herself.

It had never occurred to her to take Corbin with her.

While part of her wanted to fling herself into his arms and let him fix everything, her pride, her independence, and mostly, her maternal instinct told her Corbin couldn’t leave with her.

“I was planning to go alone.”

He stopped clicking on things long enough to stare at her, mouth wide open. “Alone? No, I am going with you. I will protect you. Watch over you and the babe at night when you cannot.” Brittany made note there was no mention of love or devotion or how he couldn’t picture his life without her.

But regardless of that, even if he did love her, which he clearly didn’t, he still couldn’t go with her. It was dangerous, she sensed that. Felt it instinctively. “Corbin.”

“Yes? Explain this to me. I cannot let you go without me.”

“You have to. No one knows you are the baby’s father, remember? That is the key to our success. No one knows about the baby. Or if they do, they will assume the father is mortal. That was your plan all along, and it was a good one, even if you didn’t tell me. If I leave, alone, no one will think twice about Alexis’s half-mortal sister moving to another state. No one will bother to check to see if I went where I said I was going. No one will care. If you leave with me, everyone will want to know where you went.

And they will start to put two and two together and wonder if we left together. If vampires start asking questions, they might find answers we don’t want them to. They might get suspicious. They might eventually find us.”

He shook his head. “But... I cannot just let you go off into the night by yourself. I cannot.”

“You have to.” She swallowed the massive lump in her throat. “I know you want to protect us, and this is the best way. The same reason you wanted to marry me before is the same reason you can’t marry me now.”

It was a solid minute before he answered her. She could see the agony on his face, but she knew by the set of his jaw he had made the right decision.

“You are right.” He shook his head. “I hate it. I despise the idea of letting you go without me, but you are right. Brittany, I am so sorry that I have brought this all upon you. It is all my fault.”

“Hey, I was there that night, too.” And while she was terrified, she wasn’t sure she’d undo anything. She was having a baby, the child of the man she loved. That was worth any sacrifice, any inconvenience. And Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

she would battle the devil himself to protect her baby. “Recriminations are a waste of time. I admit, I’m very angry that you didn’t disclose the danger of the situation to me, and it’s possible I’ll have a hard time getting past that, but it has nothing to do with my rationale here. We both know this is what we have to do. And I promise to let you visit if it’s safe, and I’ll send you updates and contact info through Ethan and Alex.”

At that, he stood up, and she realized that her words of reassurance had just undone her previous logic.

In two seconds, he was on top of her, expression fierce and passionate, pulling her tight against him.

“There has to be another way, damn it.”

Brittany closed her eyes and let her face rest against his chest. “You know there isn’t another way.” She wrapped her arms around his middle and breathed deep. Touching him calmed her, and she savored the moment, knowing this might be the last time she was this close to him. “We have to think about the baby.

That has to be our priority.”

Hands in her hair, he said, “Just promise me... ” His voice cracked. “Promise you will tell our child who her father is when the time is right. Explain that I would have been there for her if I could have.” Brittany felt the tears rise all over again at the pain she heard in those words. Pulling back, she blinked hard. “Hey. Don’t worry about that. You are the father and our child will know all about you. I promise you that.”

“Merci. I appreciate that.” He stared at her, eyes wandering over her face, hands on her cheeks. “I love you.”

She hadn’t expected him to say that. It shattered her composure. “Don’t... ” If he was exaggerating to make her feel better, it wasn’t working. If he was sincere, then it only made her feel worse. It was better to leave it unsaid, to not know what they were giving up.

“Yes. I must say it.” He brushed his lips over her forehead. “Know that even if there were no baby, I would love you. And I would marry you just for being you, if I could.”

“Corbin.” She was sobbing now. She felt relief, glee, that he felt what she did, felt the pressure of her hurt dissipating, yet it only made her regret, her pain, her understanding of her future loneliness increase tenfold. It would be impossible to move on, to forget him, knowing he loved her in return. “I love you, too.”

The kiss he gave her was passionate, but tender. She opened her mouth for him, almost cried at the sweetness of his tongue sliding across hers. It was a good-bye kiss and they both knew it.

Brittany couldn’t stand it. If he kept touching her, she wasn’t going to be able to leave. Breaking the kiss, she pulled away and wiped her cheeks. “I should go.”

“Go to Ethan. He’ll help you make arrangements. Do what you need to. I’ll finish this up then I’ll come over. Do not leave until I get there.”

“Okay.” Brittany suddenly realized she had no car. “I didn’t drive here. You picked me up.”

“You can take my car. I’ll find a way there tonight. The keys are on the kitchen counter.” He gave her hand a last squeeze. “I’ll see you tonight. I’ll be there before midnight, all right?” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

She nodded, and went to get dressed. By the time she was dressed and flipping him a good-bye wave, he was back at the computer, popping CDs in and out of the drive, working on all three computers at once. It amazed her he was that technically savvy. He always struck her as resistant to modern amenities.

And she wasn’t sure if she was glad he had the capability to decipher who her father was or not.

Walking down the hall and out the front door of the apartment building, she knew she’d certainly been blissfully ignorant not knowing her biological origins. On the other hand, now that she knew Donatelli was her father, she was better prepared to protect her child.

The morning was hazy and chilly. Crossing her arms and rubbing, she tried to remember where Corbin had parked his BMW the night before. All the rows looked the same, many of the sedans a similar black or blue.

She didn’t see the man until he was standing in front of her. Then she jumped and gave a little shriek of surprise. Corbin had said this wasn’t the best of neighborhoods, but her thoughts of muggers died when she realized it was Ringo. His hair was longer, and his eyes bloodshot, his hand twitching in a disturbing tick.

Instinctively, she knew he wasn’t there for a social call on Corbin. Turning around, she started to move back to the building.

“What’s your hurry?” he asked, blocking her path.

Oh, God. Brittany couldn’t believe this was happening. Maybe Ringo just needed money. He looked high as a kite. A skinny, creepy, dangerous kite.

“I just realized I forgot my cell phone.” It was a total lie but she wanted to feel out his intention before she panicked. Maybe she could just give him what he wanted. Maybe it had nothing to do with the baby.

“That’s a shame. But you weren’t going to be able to call for help anyway.” Ringo grabbed her arm before she even saw him move. “What do you want?” she asked, trying to yank out of his hold. He was too strong. She couldn’t even make his arm move with her violent attempts to jerk herself away.

“I want money.”

“Oh.” She sighed in relief. “I have a hundred in my purse, and if you go upstairs, Corbin can give you some, I’m sure.”

But he shook his head slowly, a small laugh rolling out of his mouth. “No, that’s not what I mean. I need money, so I’m doing a job. You’re the job, sweetheart.” Okay, no use holding back on the panic. It was there, full force, and it propelled her into action. Brittany kicked him in the shin and opened her mouth to scream.

Ringo slapped his hand over her mouth, his vampire strength so intense Brittany felt her lips start to bleed from being ground against her teeth. “Be nice. I’m not going to kill you. I just have to take you to someone who wants to talk to you. Now will you be good? Keep your fucking mouth shut?” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

She nodded her head, sucking in air when he let go of her. “Where’s Kelsey?” she asked, as he dragged her across the parking lot.

It didn’t make any sense, but in her head she kept thinking if Kelsey was okay, then somehow she would be okay, too. If he could care about a woman, he could care about her unborn child.

But his face darkened. “We had a bit of an argument.” Wonderful.

“Which car is yours?” Ringo demanded, ripping the keys from her hand.

“The blue BMW.” Brittany tried not to cry. Now Corbin wouldn’t even notice she was missing with his car gone. In her head she called to Corbin, hoping like hell their mind-connection still had some kind of power.

Otherwise, she was screwed.

Fourteen

“What do you mean, she called off work today?” Alexis asked the receptionist at Bright Smiles. It was six o’clock, Alexis had just gotten up for the night, and Brittany should be doing her end-of-the-day bullcrap in her dental office.

“I mean, she called off work today,” the receptionist repeated dryly. “I guess she’s sick.”

“Thanks.” Alexis hung up and dialed Brittany’s house. No answer. She tried her cell. Nothing. She frowned. “Ethan!”

“What?” her husband answered, voice still sleepy.

“Do you have Corbin’s phone number or address?”

“In the address book on my computer.”

Two minutes later she impatiently waited for Corbin to pick up the phone.

“Allo?” he said.

“Where’s Brittany?”

There was a pause. “Alexis? Brittany should be at your apartment by now. Have you called her cell phone?”

“She’s not answering. Why didn’t she go to work today?”

“You mean you haven’t spoken to her at all? There was no message from her?” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“No.” Alexis started to feel annoyance and a nagging little worry morph into serious fear. “Was she supposed to call me? What’s going on?”

“Brittany was planning to ask for some assistance. That is all I wish to say at the moment.” Every time she thought she might actually learn to like him, he had to go and piss her off. “Ethan and I need to talk to you and Brittany. Get your French ass over here.”

“I will be there in a few hours. I have an issue or two to resolve here first. Brittany and I intend to meet at your apartment around eleven.”

That wasn’t good enough. “Gwenna is here.”

“Gwenna Carrick?” Corbin sounded surprised. “Why?”

“She has something she needs to share with you and Brittany.”

“Perhaps I can get there sooner.”

She thought so. “Good idea.” Even though she meant to play it cool, she couldn’t help voicing her suspicion. “Are you two planning to elope?”

There was a pause. “No. That is not what we are planning.” The words should have been reassuring, but instead they scared the crap out of her.

Brittany had spent her whole life in Las Vegas, and had frequented her fair share of casinos and bars in her teens and early twenties. But she had never been inside a suite at the Bellagio.

She would have been impressed with the luxury and the amazing décor if she hadn’t been tied to a chair and scared out of her everlovin’ mortal mind.

There were two guards posted on either side of the door. A woman lounged on a divan reading a book, her long legs crossed at the ankle, her expression bored and disinterested. And three men staring at Brittany, each in a club chair that matched hers. One was Ringo, and he looked half-asleep, a glass of blood in his hand that he continually sipped from. She briefly wondered if a vampire could overdose on drugs, because he looked perilously close to a coma. One of the other two was Donatelli. Her father. He gave her encouraging smiles, alternated with inquiries into how they might make her stay more comfortable. Would she care for a pillow? A drink? A bite to eat? It was irritating to listen to him being so civil, when she was strapped down like cumbersome luggage on a car top. But the annoyance she felt at Donatelli was nothing compared to the fear she felt when she looked at the third man. He was huge, with a thick beard, broad shoulders, and fat, hairy hands. His appearance wasn’t the only reason he terrified her. She wasn’t real thrilled with the sick smile on his face. He was enjoying her fear. And his eyes were dead, empty. Insane. He didn’t speak, so she tried not to look at him. She concentrated her attention on Donatelli, who was doing all the talking.

It appalled her to look Donatelli in the face and admit to herself that he was her father. That he had oozed oily charm and suckered her mother into bed, and she was the result of that illustrious encounter.

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What was worse, though, was the realization that he knew she was pregnant. There was no hiding it. And it was clearly the reason she’d been brought there, because Donatelli’s overly casual questions all focused on the baby and Corbin.

“So when are you due?” he asked, crossing his leg.

She didn’t answer.

“Come now, no need to demur. I can see that you are at least four or five months along. April? That is a pleasant month to give birth. Lots of walks in the spring sunshine. Good for you and the baby.” Moving her head to flip her hair out of her eyes, she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t know what he wanted or why, and she didn’t want to give him whatever information he must be seeking.

“And Atelier will be there when you give birth? That is so charming.” It wasn’t hard to stay quiet. She had no interest in making chitchat with him.

What she wasn’t prepared for was the big, boorish man to suddenly stand up and smack her cheek with the back of his hand. He moved so fast she couldn’t even try to shield the blow, and it stung like hell, ripping tears out of her eyes and an involuntary gasp from her mouth.

“Show some respect and answer.”

Brittany flinched, but he only returned to his seat. The woman on the couch gave a casual glance up before turning the page of her book.

“I’m due in April,” Brittany said quickly when he made like he was going to stand up again, hand raised.

She was actually due in May, but Donatelli had guessed April, and it felt safer to lie.

Donatelli sat forward, elbows on his knees, a frown on his face. “Really, Gregor, that was not necessary.”

“She gave you an answer, did she not?” Gregor’s accent was thick. Russian.

“I’m sure she’s willing to be reasonable, aren’t you, Brittany?” Donatelli asked, giving her a charming smile.

“I can be reasonable.” In her head, she screamed for Ethan, hoping he would hear her cry for help. She was afraid to call for Corbin, fearful of what would happen if he showed up and the men in front of her forced Corbin to hand over his research. Besides, her mental connection with Corbin had been silent since their second separation, after she had told Corbin about the baby. She didn’t understand why, but they could only hear each other during sex.

Alexis had never been able to hear Brittany’s thoughts, but Ethan could. Once he’d even heard her cry out from an amazing orgasm the first time she’d been with Corbin, and Ethan had been miles away from them, which had been really damn embarrassing. But surely he would hear her fear now if he had been able to hear her pleasure then.

“We know Atelier is the father of your baby. What we need to know is what he plans to do with your child.”

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“Nothing.”

“So he has told you nothing about his plans?”

She shook her head, confused. What did they think Corbin was going to do with her baby?

“Alright, that’s fine. Perhaps he hasn’t been forthcoming with you. You are a surrogate. No need for him to share everything with you.”

Brittany frowned. A surrogate? Why would they think that? She glanced at Ringo, who had heard her telling Corbin he was the father of her child. He knew she wasn’t a surrogate. Why would he lie to Donatelli? But he clearly had, and his face revealed nothing. His eyes were hard, glassy, going in and out of focus.

“I’ve done everything I was supposed to,” she said carefully. “I’ve taken vitamins, I’ve been to the doctor, I’ve gone to childbirth classes. What do you want?” It wasn’t hard to put a tremor into her voice.

Her fear was legit.

“Why did you do it? Having a baby isn’t the easiest way to earn a dollar.” Donatelli asked, “Did you really need the money that badly? Is your dental practice failing?” Brittany was a good liar. Much better than Alexis, who was incapable of hiding her feelings. “I... I... got into some gambling debt.” She glanced at her lap, as if she were ashamed. “I owe fifty grand, and I didn’t want my sister and her husband to know. Atelier offered me a hundred to have his baby.” Donatelli whistled. “Gambling. So like a woman to be weak. What is your game?” It had been years since she’d played, but she said, “Blackjack.” She knew the rules to that, could answer questions about it.

“We’ll give you a hundred and twenty-five thousand if you give the baby to us.” The shocked gasp she gave wasn’t faked either. “But it’s his sperm. His kid.” Gregor stood up and came at her. Brittany tried to shrink back, but his thick hand grabbed a handful of hair on the top of her head and yanked her back so she was staring straight up at him, the pain making her wince. “Maybe I’ll just bury my own sperm in you. What do you think of that?” She thought she was going to be sick. Her stomach roiled and she was sure she was going to vomit right into his salt-and-pepper beard. It wasn’t hard to believe him. He looked like he could rape her and enjoy it.

There was a torrent of Russian from the woman on the couch. Gregor broke eye contact with Brittany and turned around. She breathed deeply, trying to calm her stomach down, clamp down on her terror, hold on to her nerve.

“Your wife doesn’t seem pleased with that idea,” Donatelli said in amusement.

“My wife does not speak English. But she is still a jealous little minx.” He let go of Brittany’s hair with a jerk and moved toward the woman. “Sasha.”

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But the woman was up off the couch, flouncing away, her hair bouncing down her back, her little backside swaying. Her chin was tilted indignantly. Brittany wanted to throw something at her. Like a boulder. Or a grand piano. How could she just sit there and let her husband tie up a pregnant woman?

Of course, she had to be a heartless bitch to be married to a beast like Gregor.

“That is why I’ll never get married again,” Donatelli commented as Gregor followed Sasha out of the room. He crossed one leg over the opposite knee. “Now are you agreeable to our terms?”

“What do you want the baby for?” With Gregor gone, she felt emboldened. Donatelli didn’t seem nearly as threatening.

“Sasha has always yearned for a child.”

That woman wasn’t raising her baby. No way, Russian José. “What do you have to do with all of this?”

“I’m the middleman. The negotiator. As you can see, Gregor has poor social skills.”

“The answer is no.”

He grimaced. “That is the wrong answer. I will continue to ask the question until you give the right answer.”

“No. I may not have intended to keep this baby, but it is still a baby. It belongs with its father.” Donatelli sighed. “All these goddamn ethics are so exhausting. I’m trying to be reasonable. Spare you the rod.”

A high-pitched moan floated out from the next room. Brittany couldn’t prevent a grimace. She so did not need to hear that at the moment. It was Sasha, giving an exuberant cry of pleasure, which was seriously gross, considering that her husband was just about Satan with facial hair.

Yet Ringo actually stirred and glanced toward the door, naked longing on his face, and a good-sized tent in his pants. Blech. She didn’t need to see that any more than she wanted to hear Sasha and Gregor getting it on.

Which was getting more disgusting by the minute, a nice rhythm building to the groans and yelps. Sasha did the Russian version of an “oh, oh, yes, oh, oh, aahh,” over and over. And over and over. You know, if Brittany wasn’t mistaken, there was actually some faking going on there. Having pulled that a time or two in her life, she recognized the signs. Sasha’s voice was too even, too rhythmic, too poised. Gregor was silent, which made her wonder where his tongue was, which made her stomach flip again.

At least Donatelli seemed unnerved and uninterested. But he also held his hand out to her. “Sleep, Brittany.”

She tried to resist, tried to close her mind to him, but she felt herself falling under, into darkness.

“If she is not here, where is she?” Corbin asked, staring at Alexis, who was wringing her hands together.

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“I don’t freaking know! That’s what I’m telling you,” Alexis shouted at him. “No one has seen her all day. She’s not answering her cell phone and she’s not at home. I went over there. Her car is in the driveway, but she’s not there.”

“Did it look like she’d been packing?” he asked. Brittany was probably just en route to Alexis’s and had stopped at the grocery store or the bank. Though he found it odd that she had not called Alexis. She knew she needed Ethan’s assistance to get new identification.

“Packing? No, not at all. It looked like she hadn’t been there all day, and her bed was made.”

“That is because she spent last night with me.” Corbin set down the bag of maternity clothes he had brought over. She had forgotten them in his apartment. “She took my car to drive home. It was gone from the parking lot, so I know she left. Where are Ethan and Gwenna?”

“Gwenna hasn’t gotten up yet. She sleeps late. And Ethan went to talk to his security team, to see if they can figure out how to track Brittany down. I just know something is wrong.” So did he. Corbin felt cold, stark terror slide over him. Brittany should have been there. Or she would have called. Unless she had chosen to disappear on her own. But no, she wouldn’t do that without saying good-bye to her sister.

“Alexis, Brittany and I were planning on her leaving tonight. She was supposed to go home, pack what she needed, withdraw all her available funds, and come here. She was supposed to ask Ethan to establish a new identity for her so she could leave tonight and start a new life under an assumed name.”

“What! Why?”

Corbin grimaced. The truth still appalled him. “Because my DNA search on Italian men resulted in a match. Brittany’s father is Donatelli.”

“Jesus Christ!” Alexis went pale. “Corbin, the reason we wanted to talk to you is because Gwenna came here to warn us that Donatelli is back in Vegas. And he knows about the baby. We think Ringo told him.”

Corbin went very, very still. He tried to squelch the anger, the fear, the self-recrimination, so he could think rationally. “Then it is very possible that Donatelli has Brittany right now, no?” Alexis nodded, than took off for the bedroom. “I’m going to wake Gwenna. She can read Donatelli’s thoughts.”

It would be an interesting move, for Donatelli to take Brittany. He obviously could not know he was her father. And if his other information was accurate, he would know that the baby wasn’t due for months.

So why would he take her? It struck Corbin as bold and aggressive, not adjectives he’d normally associate with Donatelli.

Alexis came back into the room with Gwenna, who was a pale wisp of a woman, shadows under her blue eyes, silvery blond hair uncombed. “She’s with him. I can hear quite clearly his curiosity, his impatience. Something is bothering him. He’s worried someone else is being too rough with her and he is debating how much he can interfere.”

“Mon Dieu.” If Donatelli thought someone else was being rough, Brittany was in serious trouble. “Who Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

is with them?”

“I don’t know.” Gwenna shook her head. “I’m sorry. And I don’t know where they are either.”

“Do you think he would go back to the Venetian?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s worth a try,” Alexis said, her mouth closed tightly, lips a pale white line.

Corbin was about to ask for a weapon when the front door opened and Ethan came in with Seamus Fox and Kelsey, the errant secretary.

She was crying, her blood tears streaming down her pale face. She came right over to him. “Ringo’s using drugs again, I know it. He went to Donatelli.”

“I’m sorry,” Corbin said automatically, patting her back when she launched herself into his arms. He looked over her shoulder for help, no clue what to do with her. The others were in a serious discussion, heads bent.

A thought occurred to him and he pulled back to look at Kelsey. “Where is Donatelli? Do you know?” Kelsey gave a sniffle and wiped at her tears. “I think he’s at the Bellagio. With the Russian guy. That’s where Ringo picked up his payment.”

“The Russian guy? Chechikov?” Corbin was stunned. The man he had given access to all his research, including the potential for cloning, was working with Donatelli?

“Yes, that was his name.” Kelsey nodded, her lip curling up. “And his mortal wife, who looks like a slut if I ever saw one. A supermodel slut.”

“His wife?” Corbin turned to Ethan and Seamus. “Did you know Chechikov is in town?”

“Unfortunately, yes. He’s here to run for president. Though I had no idea he was hiding a mortal wife up his sleeve, the tricky bastard.”

“President?” Corbin ran his fingers through his hair, unable to comprehend how idiotic he had been.

“That wife is the least of our worries. If he is with Donatelli, then they have Brittany. It is Gregor that Donatelli worries will hurt Brittany.” Corbin clenched his fists. “You know his reputation. He would not hesitate to hurt her. And I am very sorry to say that it is Chechikov who has been funding my research all these years. I give him biannual reports on my progress. With the right research team, he has the framework in place to reconstruct my antidote, at least to a point. Without my latest series of controls, though, it will take years. Unless he steals my most recent data.” His head was pounding. He just couldn’t let that research fall into the wrong hands. Chechikov had played him for a fool. He intended to take the research, take the office of the presidency, and clone vampires. So he would have total control. Corbin was not about to let that happen, nor was he going to let any harm befall Brittany or his child.

“I need to go find Brittany. Can someone go to my lab in my apartment and start destroying my files? I cannot let Chechikov or Donatelli find my research.”

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“I don’t have the technical skills for that,” Ethan said. “But I’ll go with you to find Brittany.”

“I can destroy files,” Seamus offered, stepping forward. “Just tell me what you want saved.”

“Put everything on a ThumbDrive. There is one sitting on the desk. Then destroy everything on all three computers. Obliterate it. So no one can retrieve anything. Put all the paper files through the shredder.” It was painful to say that, but he knew it was necessary. He had created the means to do the very opposite of what he had intended. It was his responsibility to destroy it.

He wanted the ThumbDrive, though. The files would give him the ability to re-create his vaccine. Giving up that choice he had created, the chance to be mortal again, wasn’t an option he was comfortable with.

Not yet, not when he knew he had the cure. And he might need the genetic database with regard to their child.

“Just give me your apartment keys and I’m on the way,” Seamus said, hand held out. “Kelsey, I’ll drop you off at your place in case Ringo comes home.”

Corbin gave him the keys. “Merci. Now I am going to get the mother of my child and I will kill anyone who has harmed her. Does anyone have a sword I can borrow?”

“I do,” Alexis said.

Why didn’t that surprise him?

“Oh, Christ,” Ethan replied. “You had to ask her that?”

“I’ll take it.” Corbin was skilled with a sword thanks to boarding school. He would relish sticking someone today, given his current mood.

Brittany had been in the chair for twelve hours. She knew because there was a platinum clock on the wall opposite her that showed how excruciatingly long she had been held captive. It had been an hour since she had woken up from Donatelli’s little mind sleep, and while they had let her use the bathroom, Gregor had also smacked her twice, shaken her, and, most recently, bitten her wrist and snacked on her blood.

He was trying to terrify her and it was working. She was pee-her-pants afraid, though at least her bladder was empty. Calling for help in her head didn’t seem to be effective, because no one was answering, and given that a guard had actually stood in the doorway of the bathroom while she had used it, she didn’t see how she could possibly escape. At this point, she figured Gregor could rape her, maim her, whatever, and she would live. But she was scared that somehow in his psycho mind games he was going to inadvertently hurt the baby. She could tolerate anything done to her, but she was going to go ballistic if anything happened to her child.

It was past 8 p.m., so she suspected that while she had been in a forced slumber, the vampires had been daysleeping as well. Now they were up for the night and she very possibly had hours before Corbin realized she wasn’t going to show up at her sister’s. God only knew what Gregor might decide to do to her in the interim. He was definitely enjoying her discomfort.

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Sasha at least had disappeared. Ringo had stepped out for a cigarette. And Donatelli looked distinctly unhappy.

He shifted in his seat, tugging at his suit jacket. “Enough of that, Chechikov. Leave her be.” But the Russian only laughed, wiping her blood off his lips and licking his fingers one by one. “I am just playing with her.”

The two men stared at each other, and after a minute, Brittany realized they were speaking to each other in their heads. She moved her thighs restlessly, making the leather on the chair squeak. She was thirsty, hungry, and getting a cramp in her leg. The baby was fluttering around in her belly in what felt like frantic somersaults, scaring her more than she already was, which she wouldn’t have thought possible.

There was no obvious escape from the situation, yet she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Donatelli was the more rational of the two, the one who might be sympathetic, or at the least, unwilling to risk destroying his future prize. He wanted her child, and he wanted to keep her alive, which was different from his psycho pal. It had occurred to her that Gregor didn’t need or want her alive. He wanted her baby and he had no interest in waiting for her to give birth. It wasn’t a live child he wanted—it was her child’s DNA. The genetic sequence, nothing more. He would treat her baby like a blood sample. Extract, use, discard.

That would have to be over her dead body. And while she was just a free-spirited suburban dentist who happened to get knocked up by a controversial vampire research scientist, she had no intention of bursting into tears and giving up. Something had happened to her since that day in her doctor’s office, since her OB had said she was pregnant. She had morphed from happy-go-lucky to warrior woman.

She’d protect her child with every last breath in her.

What she needed to do was play it smart. If Donatelli was feeling uncomfortable with Gregor’s cruel behavior, she figured he would be downright furious if he knew the truth about her genetics.

And as luck would have it, Gregor and Donatelli appeared to be arguing. Gregor threw his hand up and gave a loud “Bah!”

Turning around, he slapped her again without warning, causing her to bite her tongue. Brittany winced, blinking hard against the pain, biting her lip to prevent a cry from slipping out. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. But Gregor didn’t stick around to watch her suffer. He went out the door, slamming it behind him, making the walls shake precariously.

Donatelli shook his head in disgust before giving her a shrug. “Listen to me. Accept the money, Brittany.

It is really your only choice. The money or death. Either way he’ll have what he wants.” She ignored that. “Did you live in Las Vegas twenty-seven years ago?” she asked, swallowing hard, her mouth dry except for the blood from where her teeth had lacerated her tongue.

“What? I don’t remember. I might have. I spent a few years in the seventies and eighties here. Why?

Didn’t you hear what I just said?” He frowned at her, hands on the knees of his black pants.

She didn’t see herself in his features at all, except arguably her dark hair. It was odd to gaze into his face and try to find her own, but she saw nothing that proclaimed he was her father. Yet he was. “My mother knew you. She was a dancer at the Kareless Kitten Klub.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Donatelli smiled. “The Kitten? No kidding. I actually remember that club rather fondly. I spent many a night there.”

“My mother’s name was Gina Shoemaker. But chances are she went by Gina Baldizzi, which was her maiden name. She was very tall, with long legs, and jet-black hair.” Brittany glanced toward the door, wanting to make sure Gregor wasn’t returning.

Donatelli looked annoyed. “So?”

“So you slept with her.”

His eyebrow went up. “Did I? And she shared this with you? That’s a curious mother-daughter conversation.”

“Oh, she didn’t tell me. Corbin did.”

“What the hell does Atelier know about it?”

Brittany leaned closer, straining her hands in the painful rope ties. She whispered, terrified someone would hear her. “You know that I’m an Impure, don’t you? That’s what makes my baby so special to all of you.”

Donatelli stared hard at her. “So you know what we want.”

“Yes, I do. But before you let Gregor take what he wants, let me tell you that this child, this three-quarter vampire, is your grandchild. You had sex with my mother, Gina Baldizzi, and you are the reason I have vampire blood. You’re my father.”

He sat up straight, his head shaking. “What? You are lying to me. That is... ”

“Impossible? Why? How many vampires were hanging around the Kitten in the same time period?” And how many clubs could have been named something as ridiculous as the Kitten?

“My mother may have been a good-time girl, but I don’t think she was doing half the Vampire Nation.

You were probably the only vampire she ever slept with.” Keeping her voice steady, she drove her point home. “Besides, Corbin ran a DNA test on me, and you, Roberto Donatelli, were the match. You are my father.”

Her heart was pounding viciously as she waited for his reaction. He looked appropriately stunned and suspicious, but she could also see that he was considering believing her.

“Perhaps I remember your mother. Perhaps we had sex once or twice or twelve times. Perhaps I am your father. Why are you telling me?”

“Don’t play stupid with me. I’m telling you now because I’m tied to a chair and I know that your Russian friend wouldn’t hesitate to kill me or my baby. So I’m telling you if he does that, he will be killing your daughter. Your grandchild. Your future.”

He studied her, for so long that she started to lose hope. It was a risk, telling him the truth, but it was her only opportunity for escape unless Corbin or Ethan came for her. But finally he nodded. “You could be my daughter. You are smart enough. And I would be a fool to risk anything happening to you, at least Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

until I can verify the DNA myself.”

Wow, that was heartwarming. But no more than she had expected, and she was pleased he could see the logic in protecting her.

“And I do remember your mother, actually, because I wasn’t normally fond of brunettes. But her legs were amazing and she was willing to try anything... a wonderful combination of attributes.” He stood up and moved toward her. “Though I imagine you’d rather not hear about that.”

“I could do without it, thanks.” But in a weird way, she was grateful he remembered her, that she wasn’t just a nameless number in a long string of women he had seduced.

Donatelli leaned over, stared at her face, searching. “You do look like her. Yet you seem stronger, more stable.” He started to untie her hand bonds. “How is your mother these days?”

“She died fifteen years ago. A drug overdose.” Brittany tried not to recoil as his chest brushed near her face, the rustle of his suit and crisp dress shirt ringing in her ears. He smelled like a deep rich cologne and her stomach turned again. He didn’t seem the least bit put out or distressed that he had a daughter he’d known nothing about.

“I am sorry to hear that. Who raised you then?” he asked, tone mildly curious, conversational.

“My sister, Alexis.”

“Ah, yes.” He got one hand free, and lightly massaged her wrist where the rope had burned her flesh.

“Carrick’s wife. No wonder she is such a fierce defender. Forced into adulthood too soon. It is a shame your mother never mentioned you to me.”

Somehow Brittany couldn’t bring herself to regret that.

“I could have provided for you in some fashion or another. As far as I am aware, you are my only child.

I find the concept fascinating. I would have liked a hand in influencing your upbringing.” She just bet he would have. Boarding school for political power mongers’ offspring maybe. She could have chummed around with daughters of dictators.

Undoing the other bond, he pulled back, and Brittany stared up at him. “I don’t care about the past. All I care about is the future of my child.” She didn’t want to beg, so she locked her chin up, narrowed her eyes. “Protect me and your grandchild.”

“Oh, I will.” His voice was still casual, unconcerned, but she heard the determination in his voice, saw the conviction in his dark black eyes. “I have no intention of letting Gregor harm you.” Relief made her sag her shoulders a little, suck in a deep breath.

“Now stand up. I’m going to get you out of the building before the lunatic gets back.” Brittany stood, her knees and hips groaning with stiffness. Donatelli startled her by quickly retying her wrists in front of her. “In case we happen upon our friend.” He stripped off his jacket and draped it over her bonded hands. “And in case we happen upon any mortals.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

The fabric felt warm on her skin, and she realized she was cold, and exhausted. She wanted to do what she had always done, shrug her shoulders and assume everything would be alright, that Alexis or someone else would take care of it for her. But for the first time in her life, she realized that, ultimately, she was the one who had to take care of herself, and that for her child, she was the “it” person. The one who had to fix everything. She couldn’t trust Donatelli. He was a means to an end, nothing more.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“I want you to promise me you’ll tell Corbin where I am.” He sighed. “Fine. Now do you want to stay here or not?”

“No.” She followed him out the door. The danger ahead seemed much less threatening than staying and hanging with the slap-happy Russian.

Fifteen

“He’s moving her,” Gwenna said suddenly from the backseat of the car. “He’s debating where to take her.”

Corbin was already regretting that he had decided to drive. The traffic was typical for Vegas at night. He was crawling at about twenty miles an hour and he had only a miserable two miles to travel.

“I’m getting out,” he said. He could have been there already if he’d run. Throwing the car into park, he started to open his door.

“I’m coming with you,” Carrick said. “But you should leave the sword. Just take a knife instead.” He flashed Corbin a wicked-looking hunting knife with a jagged blade.

“You carry the knife. I will take the sword. Nothing wrong with extra protection.” Besides, it was December and he had thrown on a winter coat. There was no difficulty in concealing the sword. And he preferred its steel smoothness, its light, skillful drama. It was a classic weapon, whereas that knife was brutal, rough, inelegant.

“How about no one takes any weapons?” Gwenna asked as she jumped out of the backseat right after Alexis did. “Can’t we just discuss this rationally with Roberto? Let me talk to him.”

“No! You’re not to say one word to him,” Ethan said, pointing his finger at her.

Corbin did not have time to argue with either of them. He abandoned his car, earning lots of honks and finger gestures from other drivers, and took off running down the Strip, dodging groups of giggling women in their twenties, drunken couples leaning on each other and exchanging sloppy kisses, and men attempting to hand him flyers to bawdy shows.

He had done everything wrong. Everything. He had kept himself too isolated, he had forgotten to pay Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

attention to the movements of those in power, had allowed himself to be self-absorbed and ignorant of the climate of the Nation. Now it was Brittany who was paying for his distraction. Brittany and his child.

Brittany? he called, feeling a sense of desperation. The Bellagio was a massive building with thousands of rooms and he had no idea how to find her.

There was no response, but suddenly Ethan was running alongside him. “I can hear her, Atelier. She sounds scared, but calm, and she answered me. He’s taking her onto the roof.”

“Why is she answering you but not me?” Corbin was stupidly devastated. It was an emotion totally inappropriate for the situation, and while he was grateful they knew where Brittany was headed, he wanted to be the one she called for, needed. Not her brother-in-law.

They jogged past the Bellagio’s fountain, going off in its elaborate water display to the strains of Sinatra.

“I don’t know. Who cares?”

He shouldn’t care, but he did. “You are right. That is good. We can find her easily on the roof.” Glancing behind him, he saw Alexis was right behind them, not even breaking a sweat, but Gwenna was nowhere to be found. “Where is your sister?”

Ethan swore. “Christ, I don’t know. Let’s hope she just couldn’t keep up.” They were on the elevator in five minutes.

“Get off on the floor beneath the penthouse suites,” Ethan told him. “We’ll walk up the stairs from there.”

When they reached the last turn of stairs before the rooftop, anEMERGENCY EXIT ONLY sign glaring at them, Corbin sensed vampire, knew Brittany and Donatelli had to be right ahead of him.

Cautiously, he cracked the door open and saw Brittany with her hands tied in front of her, shorter hair sticking straight out in the wind, her stretchy top clinging to her swollen belly.

Closing his eyes for two seconds, he fought the fury, the guilt, the agony of wanting this to end positively.

Then he shoved open the door and said coldly, “Move away from my woman, Donatelli.” Brittany turned and her face reflected relief. “Corbin.” Donatelli showed no surprise, his stance leisurely, unconcerned. “For once we are on the same side, Atelier. But there is no time to discuss this. We need to get her out of here.” Brittany was shivering, her teeth chattering, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and comfort her. He settled for extracting the sword, removing his overcoat, and draping it over her shoulders. “Everything is fine, ma chérie ,” he whispered to her, easing her back away from Donatelli, who made no move to stop him.

Her big, black eyes stared at him over her shoulder. I love you , she said, her lips moving silently, as if she wanted to tell him quickly, privately, in case she never had another chance.

That nearly undid him. But he looked away from her, not wanting to let Donatelli out of his view. The Italian looked bemused.

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“Now I understand,” he said. “There is no debt, is there, Brittany? You are not a surrogate. You and the Frenchman are lovers. Very, very clever of you.” He smiled at her. “I am impressed. I did notice his scent on you, but I thought it was because you are carrying his child.” Corbin really wasn’t sure what in hell Donatelli was talking about and he didn’t really care. He just wanted Brittany home, safe, with him. “Whatever you are planning, Donatelli, it ends here. She is leaving with me, and you will have no further contact with her.”

“Actually, she’s leaving with me,” Chechikov said from the doorway, Gwenna held tightly against him, her head squeezed under his armpit.

Donatelli lost his cool insouciance. “Gwenna! Damn it, Gregor, let her go.”

“You betrayed me,” Gregor returned. “You were taking the girl off for yourself. That makes me very angry. Return her to me, and I’ll return this one to you.” Donatelli’s fists clenched, and there was suddenly sweat on his forehead. He glanced at Gwenna. Corbin held his breath, holding his sword loosely, ready to strike if Donatelli turned over Brittany. But Donatelli just shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Then I’ll kill Gwenna.” Gregor held his own sword in his free hand and he raised it menacingly.

“No!” Donatelli moved toward them, as did Carrick, but Gwenna startled them all by grabbing the sword and yanking it to her neck.

“Don’t bargain for me, Roberto. It’s not worth it. I have no issue with dying. In fact, I’ve wished for a very long time that I were dead.” She tried to look up at Gregor, tried to force the blade closer to her flesh. “Go on, kill me. I welcome it.”

The tension emanating from everyone was palpable. Corbin was impressed with Gwenna’s courage, but also alarmed at the look in her eye. She looked serious. Gregor seemed to understand that as well.

When she said, “I’ll slice my own head off before you can touch Brittany,” he backed away, letting her go as he realized his bargaining chip was no longer worth anything.

“Give me the girl, Donatelli.”

“No.” Donatelli was in front of Brittany, and he put his arm behind him, waving at her to scoot back.

Corbin expected him to rush Donatelli, or grab Gwenna again. Instead, with no hesitation, he swung out with his sword and sliced Donatelli straight across the chest with so much force that blood arched everywhere, blinding Corbin and sending Donatelli crashing backward into Brittany, who screamed.

Wiping his face, Corbin launched himself in front of both Brittany and Donatelli, trusting Ethan and Alexis to get Brittany off the roof. And while it might not be the smartest move to go on the offensive with Gregor, he suspected Chechikov’s desire for the child was greater than his anger at Donatelli. He would step over the Italian and go right for Brittany.

Which Corbin didn’t intend to allow. He raised his own sword and attacked.

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Brittany knew she should stop screaming, but she couldn’t seem to turn the volume off. There was just so much blood, it was everywhere, wet and thick, smelling sweet and putrid all at the same time.

Donatelli had collided into her, knocking her down onto her butt, and now he was lying on the roof in front of her, his chest looking like he’d had a date with open heart surgery. In the dark ages. He was gored from end to end and she gagged, taking deep little breaths so she wouldn’t vomit the bile that kept crawling up her throat.

But he was a vampire. He would heal. And he had prevented Gregor from striking her. She suspected she had been the monster’s target—that he had intended to just swing out and kill her, then cart her body off in the melee. Easier to haul off a corpse than a kicking and screaming live person.

Alexis pulled Brittany back, away from her father, but that didn’t seem right, to just abandon him, so she fought her sister. Her spindly arms were no match, though, for vampire strength, and Alexis kept hauling her, despite her protestations. It was when Alexis had her a good five feet back from Donatelli, and she had stopped kicking long enough to look up, that she realized Corbin was engaged in battle with Gregor.

“Corbin! Jesus!” she shrieked, trying to break free from Alexis, whirling toward Ethan for help. “Stop him! He’s... ” No match for Gregor , was what she was thinking. Corbin was a lot of things, including sweet, cute, intelligent, and downright fierce in bed, but she didn’t think he could go head to head with a burly Russian double his size.

But the words died on her lips when she noticed that Corbin was a match for Gregor. Holy crap, he was a sword stud. He was doing that French musketeer thing, whirling and jabbing and clanking, moving with skill and confidence, and looking kind of, well, hot. Really hot. Hello. Yet he was still in mortal danger, regardless of the fact that he seemed to be holding his own.

Someone should rescue him, because she was going to croak if he got hurt. Not that he could get permanently hurt, because he was a vampire, but shit, what if Gregor cut off his head? Even a vampire could die if someone really wanted to kill him. She winced as Corbin stumbled backward from a particularly brutal blow. “Oh, geez, Alex, do something.”

“He’s fine,” was her sister’s reply. “He has everything under control.”

“But shouldn’t we... can’t we... ” Shoot a rocket at Gregor and launch him off the roof? There was an idea.

Alex rubbed her arms gently. “Sweetie, no. This is Corbin’s fight. Men don’t want to be rescued. Hell, I don’t want to be rescued. Now come on, let’s go.”

Leave? Was her sister nuts? “I can’t leave until I know he’s okay.”

“You’ll just distract him. He wants you safe.”

Crap. She knew Alex was right, but she couldn’t leave. Gregor was so strong and Corbin was... kicking his ass. Gregor was huffing and puffing, while Corbin hadn’t even broken a sweat. He held the sword loosely, yet whenever Gregor charged him, he was always right there with a block and a stab. Gregor’s chest was blooming scarlet from all the hits he’d taken.

“The baby, Brittany. Think about the baby.”

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At the same moment, she saw Corbin glance over at her. “Brittany!” he yelled, appalled. “Get out of here!” Shoot, she was distracting him.

“Okay!” She moved toward the stairs. “But what about Donatelli?” It seemed rude to leave him there after he had tried to help her escape.

“Gwenna’s got him. She and Ethan will haul him out.”

Actually, Donatelli was walking on his own, and he and Gwenna were arguing.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” he demanded. “What were you thinking to grab that sword? I almost had a goddamn heart attack.”

“You can’t have a heart attack,” she told him sharply, her arm around his middle, supporting his weight.

“And you should be ashamed of yourself for kidnapping a pregnant woman.”

“I had no intention of hurting her. And this is what happens when I don’t have you acting as my conscience.”

Gwenna bristled. “That was utterly exhausting, given your many misdeeds, so I retired. It’s called a divorce. And you haven’t changed one bit in the two hundred years since.” They moved slowly toward the door.

Brittany exchanged a look with Alexis. Gwenna was a bit more of a pistol than she had expected. And Ethan looked like he was choking on a nut. His face was completely red. “Can you move a little faster?” he demanded. “We’d like to get Brittany out of here before Gregor throws down his sword and charges us. Maybe we should leave Donatelli here.”

“Don’t let me burden you,” Donatelli pronounced coldly, letting go of Gwenna, and stepping aside, a sour and stubborn look on his face.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Gwenna yanked his shirt. “Just get your bloody arse down these steps. Ethan, you be quiet or I’ll be tempted to box your ears. You have absolutely no reason to despise Roberto as much as you do.”

Donatelli and Ethan both looked startled, but Ethan was quick to retort, “You’ve gone daft! He’s been a bloody thorn in my side for nine centuries. He broke Alexis’s wrist. And he just hired an assassin to have me killed last fall!”

Scoffing, Donatelli limped down the stairs, holding his ribs under his blood-soaked shirt. “I knew he couldn’t kill you. It was just politics, nothing personal, Carrick.” Gwenna glared at the men. “And you both wonder why I choose to hide in a pile of rocks in York? It’s so I don’t have to deal with either one of you.”

Alexis turned to Brittany, looking bewildered. “Something weird just happened. The three of them just had some kind of power struggle and I think Gwenna won.” But Brittany was barely listening. As they went through the doorway, she was glancing back over her shoulder, checking on Corbin. He and Gregor were circling each other. Corbin had a feral grin on his Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

face as he strode to the left, eye always on Gregor, his wrist spinning his sword like he was working the table at a hibachi steakhouse.

There was just no way she could leave.

Doing a totally stupid girl move, she ran back up the stairs, out onto the roof, and slammed the door shut behind her.

“After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?” Gregor said to Corbin, moving slowly, his breathing hard and labored.

“If I had had any idea zat you wanted to use my research for cloning, I would never have taken your money.” Corbin should have realized that no man shelled out hundreds of thousands of dollars without having a personal stake in it, no matter how rich or odd. Yet Chechikov had fooled him with his recluse status, his complete disinterest, his eccentric and random distribution of funding. “And I have lifted my sword because you took Brittany and my child.”

“You’re a scientist. You, more so than anyone else, understand the implications of that baby. You can’t keep him hidden, you know. I am going to win the election and then I will find your child. It would be much smarter to work together with me. I promise not to harm the baby if you conduct all your research on my behalf. Together we can rule the Nation.”

Corbin shook his head. “That’s your dream, not mine. And there is no more research. I destroyed all the data this afternoon. I am the only vampire who understands our genetic makeup, who can facilitate both a return to mortality and a population explosion, and it is gone. All of it.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but he was keeping that information to himself.

His words sent Gregor into a rage. “You French fool! I’ll kill you and take your baby and do the damn research without your goddamn pathetic little concerns.” When he charged him, Corbin was ready, knowing Gregor had more strength than he did, but that his asset was agility and technique. When the Russian came at him, Corbin spread his legs, arched his sword, and with every ounce of strength he had, sliced the blade deep into Chechikov’s throat and neck, pushing backward to drive it deeper. Gregor stumbled, blood spraying, hands clawing at his neck, and with a tremendous heave, he managed to repel both Corbin and the sword back. But the momentum of his own massive push, the give of the sword leaving his neck, sent him catapulting backward, where he tripped and went over the side of the building with a roar of fury.

Dropping the sword, Corbin jogged to the edge of the roof and glanced down. Chechikov was falling fast and hard, and he heard the faint thump when the Russian collided with the top of a semitruck parked at the food delivery entrance of the casino and hotel. With any luck, Corbin had succeeded in driving the sword deep enough to cause death, or to injure him enough that he would bleed out on the truck before healing.

Unable to resist, he spat over the side to reflect his disdain for Chechikov. “Bastard.”

“Corbin, are you okay?”

He turned to find Brittany careening across the rooftop, holding her belly as she ran at breakneck speed.

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“What are you still doing up here?” he asked in horror. “You were supposed to leave with Carrick!”

“I couldn’t leave until I knew you were alright.”

Offended, he bent over to pick his sword up. “You did not trust me? You thought I could not handle the Russian? Perhaps I am not man enough?”

“Oh, good grief, chill. That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t questioning your masculinity, I was just worried.”

“You should have worried less about me and more about our child.” He was appalled that she had stayed when she should have taken herself straight to safety.

Not answering, she peered over the roof edge. “It’s too dark to see anything. Is he dead?”

“We should be so lucky.” Brittany was making him nervous, leaning like that, so he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “It is possible, and if you return home with your sister, I could investigate the situation.” Her jaw dropped. “Why does it feel like we’re fighting with each other?”

“I am not aware that we are doing any such thing,” he said stiffly, even as he realized he was being unreasonable. But he had spent the entire evening terrified for her safety, and now he found that she had deliberately risked herself and their child because she thought he could not survive a battle with Gregor. It had his nerves shredded, his pride injured, his relief that she was safe so sharp, he felt as though he could actually taste it.

“Fine. Since we’re not arguing, you won’t say a word when I tell you that I’m going to the Ava and I’m going to eat something, and then sleep for about twelve hours in Alex’s apartment. If you feel like discussing anything with me, you can do it in the morning.” Hurling his overcoat at him, she whirled around and tossed back over her shoulder, “Oh, and by the way, I told Donatelli he’s my father so that he would have an interest in saving me from Gregor. It worked, but now I have no idea what he’ll do with that information.” Wonderful. Just fantastique .

Using his coat, he wiped the blood off his sword, and followed her down three flights of stairs to the elevator, suddenly feeling like a naughty schoolboy.

Arms folded over her middle, she stared up at the elevator numbers and gave little huffs and sighs of impatience.

Corbin could not tolerate the ridiculousness of their silence. “Brittany.” He wrapped his arms around her, bloody sword under his coat and all. “I was terrified they would harm you. I am so glad you are safe.” Leaning into her, he breathed deeply the scent of her body, her hair, and kissed her temple. It was calming to hold her, and he closed his eyes, pulled her closer. “I love you. It amazes me how much.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, stroking her fingers lightly across his arms.

“I do not know what I would do if something happened to you.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“Nothing happened to me.”

“I know. And nothing will as long as I have breath.” The elevator dinged at the first floor. “Now let’s find your sister so you can go home and relax. I have to check on Chechikov.” Turning, she frowned. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“What stupid? What are you talking about? I’m just going to see if he is dead.” He covered the sword with his overcoat as they stepped off the elevator, knowing the Bellagio security would find it fascinating that a pregnant woman had shown up on their elevator cameras standing next to a sword suspended in midair. They would probably wonder if the building was haunted.

“Don’t provoke him. You won. Leave it at that. There’s no reason to pick another fight with him.” There it was again. That implication that he could not win in a battle. He tried not to lose his temper. “Go with Alexis and sleep. I can handle Chechikov.”

She shook her head with a soft smile. “Boys.”

Kissing her forehead, he put a hand on her tight belly. “Girls.” He saw her sister pacing anxiously by a seating group of sofas in the lobby. “Now there is Alexis. Go.”

“Fine.” She went with a wave and a last admonishment. “Be careful!”

“Yes, yes.” Corbin picked his way through the casino and out a back door marked for employees. It took several minutes to find the loading dock that Chechikov had dropped down onto. Fortunately, there wasn’t a lot of activity in that area at night. The truck seemed to be parked in the loading dock waiting for the next shift to unload. Putting his coat back on, Corbin jumped up on the fender, and leaped onto the roof. He could see Chechikov lying on top and knew immediately he was still alive. He could hear his heart beating, the noisy rattle of his labored breathing as he moved in closer.

The neck wound was healing, but his eyes were glazed with pain, his arm bent at an odd angle. Corbin did not want to kill him, because he was certain that would not sit well with the tribunal. Also, he was not entirely sure how Brittany would react to that. But he knew leaving Gregor to recover would be dangerous. There would be nothing then to prevent him from abducting Brittany or the baby at a later date.

“Atelier,” Chechikov said, struggling to sit up.

“Chechikov. I see you have suffered no permanent damage from your clumsy tumble,” Corbin said, feeling not a single ounce of pity for him.

Gregor gave up the effort and fell onto his back. “Rot in hell. Go and leave me alone to heal. You won’t kill me, I know you won’t. You are too soft, like Carrick. Even like Donatelli.” Gregor closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and locked gazes with Corbin. “And when you have forgotten all about me, and you’re living your charmed, self-important life, with your pretty little mortal girlfriend, I’ll come for her. And when I’m done with her, after I’ve raped her over and over, taken her blood, broken her bones, forced her into submission on her knees, my cock in her mouth, she’ll wish she were dead. But I won’t kill her. I’ll play with her, torment her, until I’ll leave a knife out or maybe a gun and she’ll kill herself rather than have to suffer one more minute. And the whole time she’ll wonder where is my lover?

Why won’t he save me? Corbin, Corbin... ” Gregor mocked, his voice a high-pitched imitation. He Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

sneered. “But you’ll never find her, not until her body is filled with rot, and the vultures have pecked out her eyes.”

Corbin wanted to kill Gregor, take his head off with one slick swipe of his sword. He could do it, and Gregor wouldn’t be able to defend himself. But that was too good for the bastard. So he sat down next to Chechikov, calmly, coldly, and listened to him hiss and spit his threats, his vile promises. Corbin said nothing, but stared out behind the Bellagio at the labyrinth of Dumpsters and employee parking lots, the reality behind the illusion of the casino, and waited.

And when he saw that Chechikov’s neck had healed sufficiently, and he was starting to move restlessly on the truck, testing his healing bones, Corbin reached into his overcoat and pulled out his portable lab kit that he carted everywhere. The kit in which he had stored his triumph, his vaccine. Loading a syringe, he plunged the needle into the vial and withdrew the clear liquid.

Gregor was coughing, but still managed to say, “What the fuck are you doing, you French pussy?” Corbin turned and ripped Gregor’s sleeve up. There was a plump, rich vein hovering right at the surface of his inner elbow. Waiting for him. Perfect. This was the best solution, the most logical way to protect Brittany and the baby.

So he pricked Gregor with the needle, and injected him with the vaccine that would suppress his vampirism virus and essentially return him to mortal.

“Have a nice, long recovery, Gregor,” he said, tucking the syringe back in the carrying case. “And stay the hell away from my girlfriend.”

He walked away with Gregor’s groans of agony ringing in his ears.

Sixteen

Ringo only vaguely remembered entering the Ava, Carrick’s casino. He had been flying at the Bellagio after he had picked up the girl for Donatelli, but it was vague after that. He thought maybe he had slept, and he’d woken with a serious erection and an anvil of guilt pressing down on him.

So he must have decided to look for Kelsey, and when he hadn’t found her at the Hilton—in fact, had discovered she’d paid their bill and checked them out—the Ava had seemed the logical place to look next. But he had gotten distracted by the blackjack table, and the fact that he had cash in his pocket from the job.

It wasn’t with a lot of surprise, though, that he saw his wife slide into the chair next to him, her lips in a straight, angry line. She always had a way of turning up.

“Hey, babe,” he said, giving her a smile. She really was pretty, his wife, her hair glossy and smooth, complexion flawless. “I was looking for you.”

“Obviously very hard,” she said.

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Was that sarcasm? Kelsey didn’t do that tone with him. Ringo didn’t like the frown on her face so he nudged her with his knee and smiled.

“This is where we first met,” he said, throwing his hand out so far, he accidentally hit the woman next to him. “Sorry.” He leaned back toward Kelsey. “Isn’t that romantic?”

“How much did you have?”

Six, maybe seven glasses. He wasn’t sure, really. And it was better not to piss her off when he was feeling friendly, horny, ready to make nice. “Not much. And that was an accident.” With a sigh, she glanced at the table. “I have a room upstairs. Are you going to come to bed?” Hell, yeah. “Deal,” he told the dealer.

The card was flipped. “Over. House wins.”

Ringo saluted him. “Have a good night.” He lifted his cigarette out of his ashtray and smiled at Kelsey.

“Lead the way, babe.”

She didn’t speak to him the whole way to the elevator, and her silence bothered him. Kelsey wasn’t the silent type. “Okay, I screwed up, is that what you want me to say? I’m sorry. Really, really sorry.” As they waited for the doors to open, he threw his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “Give me a break, Kels.” He loved the way the lights bounced and swam when he was on a trip, and he could have sworn there was a halo of light around Kelsey’s head. A fucking halo. He tried to lick it, but there was nothing there.

“What are you doing?” she said, swatting at him.

He laughed, feeling good, so damn good, he didn’t even understand it. “I love you, you know, you make me crazy, but shit, I love you. It’s like you and me, we’re both such fuck-ups we belong together.” With a small smile, she said, “I resemble that.”

That made him laugh again, loud and full, and he gave her a nudge forward when the elevator opened.

“What floor’s our room on... ”

Ringo’s laughter died out. In the mirror in front of them on the back wall of the elevator, he couldn’t see either one of them, just the potted plant on the console table behind them. Just the plant and his brother Kyle.

“Holy shit.” Ringo swung around but there was nothing there.

Looking forward, there was Kyle again, watching him steadily, carefully, not smiling. The elevator doors started to slide shut, bumping into him.

“What?” Kelsey asked.

Shaking his head, Ringo moved forward, letting the door close. He blinked hard. “Shit. Bad trip.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

That was all it was. Nothing more.

When Brittany woke up, she noticed two things immediately. She had slept for fourteen hours, since the clock in the guest room at her sister’s apartment read 2 p.m., and Corbin was sitting in a charcoal-colored overstuffed chair next to the bed, watching her.

“Bonjour. How are you feeling?”

“Stiff. Thirsty.” She smiled up at him, stretching her arms over her head. “But fine. How are you? All in one piece still, that’s good.”

“Yes, all in one piece.” Reaching a long arm, he brushed her hair back off her face. “We need to talk.” That sounded ominous. “Okay.” Propping the bed pillows behind her, she sat up and fixed the straps on her tank top. He looked serious, and tired. He probably hadn’t even been to bed yet himself.

“Gregor is no longer a threat.”

“He’s dead?” Brittany wasn’t sure how she felt about that. There should be remorse, pity for a man who had become so twisted, but she had a hard time dredging up any sympathy.

“No. Not dead. But taken care of.” He moved over to the bed and sat on the dove gray sheet next to her thighs. “I do not want you to worry about him.”

Well, that was illuminating. If he thought she was going to leave it at that, he had forgotten what century they were in. She wasn’t the delicate little miss who couldn’t take the truth. But before she could argue the point, he continued.

“And Donatelli, in order to save his own ass, and to protect both himself and you from Gregor, has joined your brother-in-law’s political campaign. He understands that he is to have no contact whatsoever with you or the baby.”

“What?” Brittany didn’t consider herself up on vamp politics, but she’d been forced to learn enough to know that Donatelli had previously been Ethan’s opponent, and he had lobbied for population growth, something Ethan didn’t support. “Why the hell would he join Ethan’s campaign? Why would Ethan let him do that?”

“Because Gregor is still running against Carrick, and he has something of a celebrity status in the Nation.

Sort of like an Oprah of the vampires. With Donatelli on his side, he had the potential to win. But with Donatelli switching camps, going over to a sworn enemy, everyone will be suspicious of Chechikov. And together, Carrick and Donatelli make a powerful statement of unity. Everyone—Impures, ancients, conservatives—is happy.”

Everyone but her, that is. She was more confused than happy, but it wasn’t her arena. It wasn’t her political battle. If Corbin and Ethan thought it was the right step to take, she would have to trust them.

Her concern was her child. “So since Donatelli knows about the baby, there isn’t much use in me running off and hiding, is there?”

Corbin shook his head, his green eyes troubled. “No. I see no real value in you cutting yourself off from Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

friends and family who care about you and can help you with the baby.” But not him? Brittany’s heart started to pound. Corbin didn’t look right. “What about us? Where do we go from here?”

“It is still dangerous, I will not shield you from that this time. We must be cautious, vigilant, where the baby is concerned. I have not yet decided which is better—to live in Vegas, where you have friends to protect you, or to start anew somewhere else, where no one will be watching you.”

“If it’s not clear-cut, I’d rather stay in Vegas. It would be lonely raising a baby in a new place.” And since she was getting no sense of whether he had meant he would go with her or not, she couldn’t assume he would be helping her.

“I understand. And I will protect you, of course, if that is necessary.” He ran his finger down her thigh. It was an odd gesture, like he wanted to touch her, claim her, but hesitated to take all of her.

He made a pattern on her knee with his fingertip. “And after the baby is born, I could turn you. That way we can be together, forever. All of us.”

“Corbin!” She hadn’t expected him to say that, knowing how he felt about immortality. Yet it immediately was a tantalizing concept, a carrot of eternity dangled in front of her... forever with her child and her lover. It was a happy thought for a simple moment. But reality intruded. What he had suggested was wrong, unnatural, and given the expression on his face, he knew it, too. That was not the way to raise a child.

“You know we can’t do that, as much as I would like to be with you, as much as it hurts to say no.” She put her hand over his, wanting to touch him, wanting to soften her words, and the ache in her heart. “We have to do what’s right for the baby. With you immortal, and me mortal, working together, we can ensure the baby is both safe at night, and being raised in a normal manner, in the day.”

“You think being a vampire is abnormal? You think we cannot be good parents if we are immortal?” His voice rose in indignation.

Brittany fought back the lump in her throat that kept rising. “You know what I mean... every vampire I know was raised by mortal parents, during the day, with schools and friends and birthday parties. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be raised only at night, in a world filled only with adults, who don’t eat regular food and can leap off buildings. No children, no playmates, no sunshine in the park. That has nothing to do with us and the kind of parents we will be. It just wouldn’t be right to force our child into that kind of abnormal, isolated life.”

The image of raising her child in the darkness made her want to weep. It meant being apart from Corbin, at least during the day, but she would sacrifice that for her baby. “With you immortal and me mortal, our child gets the best of both worlds.”

His eyes were dark, troubled. “Except for her parents together. We cannot give her that.” Tears made him blur in front of her. “Corbin... don’t say that. We can and will be together. Just like we talked about before. We’ll get a house, we’ll live together.”

“Of course we will,” he said. “But it will be but a pale shadow of a normal life. I can never give that to you.”

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“Normal is what we make it. We’ll have the same amount of time together that a lot of couples do...

some work swing shifts from each other so they don’t have to pay for day care, other women have husbands who travel. This is no different.”

He nodded, even as his eyes told her otherwise. There was defeat there, sorrow. “You are right. Of course. It will be no different.”

Without warning, his fist bunched in the sheet, and he tore it down, off of her. “I want you.” Men could so easily shift their emotions to sex, it was astonishing. But Brittany could use the touching, the distraction, the feel of him inside her, the promise of being together. “What do you want me for?”

“For everything.” He kissed her, lips hard and aggressive. “For forever.”

“You have me,” she told him, putting her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. She loved the way he smelled—like rich, confident, and sophisticated man—and she liked how his smooth, polished control always disintegrated in bed with her.

In two seconds he had her tank top off, and her bare nipples beaded in anticipation as the cool air hit her skin. She was forced to lift her backside off the bed as he immediately went for her panties, dragging and tugging them down.

His mouth was hot and urgent, his tongue thrusting deep into her as he undid his pants. Brittany fell back on the bed, gripping the taut muscles in his biceps. He pulled his mouth off hers long enough to ask, “Is it okay on your back?” His fingers, hands that had known two hundred years of life and had held that sword so confidently, fluttered carefully over her belly, over their child.

The position didn’t feel uncomfortable, and she liked the way he rose up over her, the way she could see every inch of his face, his expression, when he filled her. “It’s okay.” That was all he needed to hear. His pants disappeared, and he entered her, his body covering hers, his urgency and desperation and love pressing on her, in her, and Brittany gasped in pleasure, at the intimacy of being connected to him, their child between them.

Before she could match his rhythm, or adjust her hips to meet his thrusts, he flipped over and pulled her on top of him, his hands cupping her breasts, thumbs toying with her nipples. Gripping the sheets, she leaned forward and moved on him, wanting him to recognize, to know, to see, what she felt for him. That some way or another, they would make it work. It did work, because they loved each other, and wanted a future.

The slick pressure on her clitoris as she rode him was agonizing, delightful, and the way he watched her, the way his eyes opened wider, the way he got a feverish wild look of pride, like he thought she was amazingly sexy, made her gasp, grind harder, deeper. And when she couldn’t take any more, when her emotion and passion overwhelmed her body, she came with a cry, locking eyes with him.

“Beautiful,” he said, cupping her cheek.

She sucked in air, tried to collapse on his chest, body still trembling, but he rolled her onto her side, and pulled her leg over his, opening her completely for him. Her breasts brushed his bare chest, and he kissed her at the same time he pushed his erection into her. They were touching from forehead to feet, entangled Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

together, locked in an intimacy so primal, so elemental, so extreme, that Brittany felt tears in her eyes. As he dug his nails into her naked thighs and exploded, a curse ripped from his lips.

“I love you, ma chérie ,” he said. “I love you. For me, there is only you.” Brittany hung on, her emotions perilously close to the edge, skittering toward what, she wasn’t sure.

Closing her eyes, she cried, “I love you, too.”

It would always be like this, Corbin knew. Brittany had gotten up for the day after their lovemaking, while he had gone to sleep for a few hours. Now she was tucked back into the queen-size bed in Carrick’s guest room, and Corbin was up, roaming, ready for the night.

There was nothing to be done. He should be grateful they had what they did. That they were together, such as it was. That he would have a family, however spliced together. But it wasn’t gratitude he felt. It was anger, sadness, a creeping, debilitating sort of bitterness that crawled around the edges of his heart and made him want to throw things.

Instead of chucking Alexis’s vase sitting on a low table in their hallway, Corbin went into the living room, where Ethan was working on his laptop computer. He undid his wristwatch, and pulled it over his hand.

That watch hadn’t come off his arm in forty years, but now he tossed it onto the table in front of Carrick.

“I am returning this. I consider my punishment over, my retribution fulfilled.” Ethan looked at him. “You can’t do that. It’s not your right to decide that your punishment is over. It’s mine, and the tribunal’s.”

“I injected Gregor with my vaccine,” Corbin told him. “He will essentially be a mortal, whether he realizes it yet or not. And I suspect he’ll try to hide it—at least until the election is over.” Almost dropping his computer, Ethan stood up. “You can’t just do that either!”

“I can and I did. He was a threat to my child, to Brittany, to the Nation. To our entire way of life. I neutralized the threat. And I do not regret it. I just thought you should know, as a courtesy.” Corbin turned on his heel and headed for the door.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“To Paris.”

Or as close to it as he could get in the desert. When he was on top of the faux Eiffel Tower at the Paris Hotel, he sat down on a lit iron rung and looked at the Vegas skyscape. His parents had been exiles in England during the Terror, and he could still remember how his mother had longed for France, wept for the memory of Paris, expressed her impatience in all things that weren’t home. He knew that feeling, that frustration now. He wanted home. Paris. A family. The sun.

He wanted what he had had, what he could have with Brittany, if it were different.

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against his will, and had always regretted the change in his destiny. He still didn’t want eternity. What he wanted was Paris. Coffee and baguettes. The heat of the sun on his arms, the cold splash of the Seine on his face. Brittany and his child and a finite amount of time to make the most of his existence, to squeeze his worth into a half-century, and to never have to face an endless, gaping yawn of a future.

They could make it work as such. They would make it work. But it broke his heart that he would never see a school play, never watch his daughter on the soccer field, never see her chubby little legs pumping hard on the playground at noon, cheeks flushed with heat. He would have two hours a day with her, at most, and while he walked the night, she would be tucked into her crib, eyes closed to him.

Corbin wanted to sink into obscurity, to be a nameless number in the mass of humanity, who mattered only to his bride and baby. That wasn’t his calling, his destiny. He had a different life, and he would live it.

But on his terms.

“What if I told you... ” Corbin said, leaning over the railing, his words trailing off.

“What?” Brittany asked, sitting in a patio chair on Alexis’s balcony, fighting the urge to stand up and go to him. Corbin was acting strange, storming into the apartment and demanding to speak to her. Alexis would have told her that was par for the course with Corbin, but she knew him. Something was bothering him, something that had him edgy and brusque, and it was different than the way he had been the night before.

She wanted to hug him, to comfort him, but she didn’t want to distract him from whatever he needed to say. There couldn’t be any more withholding of important information from her.

He turned slightly, stared straight at her. “What if I told you I could be mortal again?” Forget not standing up. She almost leaped off the balcony. “What!”

“What if I told you that, if you wanted it, I could give you that normal life, with a house in ze suburbs, and a husband who is home for dinner every night and attends all ze soccer games?”

“The vaccine?” she asked, pressing her hand to her chest because she had the sudden fear that her heart might actually catapult out of her body.

He nodded. “Yes. It is finished. And tested. On Gregor Chechikov.”

“That’s how you took care of Gregor?” Holy crap and then some.

“Yes.” And he looked a little smug over that fact. “I have a clean conscience. I protected my family and the Vampire Nation, yet I did not kill him.”

“Jesus. And you know he’s mortal now?”

Corbin nodded. “I saw him. Apparently he wishes to keep it a secret from the general vampire population, but he is recuperating from the injuries sustained in the fall. His wife is tending to him. He is very angry, and he is very much mortal.” Corbin gave a slight smile. “She was feeding him chicken broth while he swore at her.”

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“My God... you did it. You can reverse vampirism.” Tears popped into her eyes and she swiped at them impatiently. “What are you going to do with the vaccine? And how do you know that Gregor can’t just make himself a vampire again by being drained?”

He turned completely around to face her and leaned back against the railing, crossing his ankles. His black Italian shoes were gleaming and new, pants pressed, shirt expensive. “Even if someone were foolish enough to drain Gregor and give him their own blood, I am confident it will not achieve the same results. And I destroyed my lab. It’s dangerous information to have so accessible to the wrong people, as we both discovered. But... ” He patted his leather jacket. “I did not use it all on Gregor. The formula is encoded on a ThumbDrive, and it will stay there for now, until I determine what is the best course of action to take. But I have enough, right now, to return myself to mortality.”

“Is that what you want?” She couldn’t let him do it for her, or the baby. It had to be what he wanted, even though she had the urge to jump up and down and shriek with joy that he could be with her, every day, all day, that he could age with her, and share in all the moments of pride and worry and pleasure that raising children could bring.

But she didn’t want to influence him, wanted him to be sure that he was doing it for the right reasons, for himself. The fact that he might do it for her and the baby spoke volumes about the depth of his character, his caring, his compassion, but it wouldn’t be right to use that to her advantage.

“Yes, it’s what I want.” Corbin gave a short laugh. “Ma chérie, it is all I have ever wanted. I want to be a mortal man. I want to see my child grow up. I want you. I even want to die one day, an old man, knowing that I treated each day as a gift, each moment as a treasure.” Then he went down on one knee. “Will you do me the honor of being my wife, through good times and bad, in sickness and in health, until death do us part? Not for the child, but for us. Because of our love, our friendship.”

Brittany was speechless. She was blubbering, tears just streaming all over the place. She managed a ridiculous, choked out “Oh, Corbin!” but nothing else.

He gripped her hand a little harder. “Is that a yes?” Nodding her head up and down, she gave a short, sob-smothered laugh. “Yes. I’ll marry you.” Rising elegantly, he sketched her a bow. “Ma chérie, you make me the happiest of men.” He was so damn hot when he pulled out those nineteenth-century manners. “And I’m the happiest chick in Vegas. But I have to ask... are there any side effects to the vaccine?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” He pulled her into his arms. “Why? Would you not have me if I grew large nose hairs or turned a strange chalk white color?”

She laughed and settled against his chest. “Don’t be ridiculous. I meant, I don’t want anything awful happening to you. I don’t want you to suffer. I don’t want it to kill you. If there is even a chance, it’s not worth the risk.”

“I am confident that the drug inhibits the virus, that is all. Minor side effects may be possible, but nothing alarming.”

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Feeling ridiculously, sickeningly happy, Brittany squeezed her arms around him tighter and teased, “What about your sperm?”

“I’m sure I’ll have plenty to keep you busy for years.” He gave her a French kiss, in every sense of the word.

Brittany pulled back and sighed. “Oh, la, la.” Then she smacked his arms, shook him a little. “Promise me you’ll give this some thought. Be sure this is what you want. Mortality, that is. You’re locked into marrying me and can’t retreat from that offer, but mortality is totally your choice.”

“I have thought about it.”

“Just wait until the baby is born. Be sure.” She didn’t want him to have any regrets. “You’re choosing between life and death here. That can’t be an easy decision.”

“It was an easy decision for you,” he pointed out. “I offered to turn you, and you immediately refused.”

“That was different. I wasn’t giving something up. You will be giving up immortality.” He shook his head. “I am not giving up immortality.” Caressing her belly, he said, “You and I, our love, it will live forever in our child.”

There were the tears again. She was a freaking water faucet. On, off, on again. “What will happen to our child, if he is immortal, and you and I die? If you stay a vampire, you can be with him forever.” Corbin’s jaw locked. “All children live beyond their parents. That is natural and normal. But our child will have Alexis and Ethan to go through eternity with her.”

“It sounds like you’ve made up your mind already.”

He shrugged. “I will think about it. I will wait. But our marriage cannot wait. You will be Mrs. Corbin Jean Michel Atelier as soon as it is possible.”

“I’m a dentist,” she reminded him. “I get to be Dr. Atelier.”

“Technically, I have that title as well, since I went to medical school in the 1860s. We will both be Dr.

Atelier. But you’re the beautiful one.”

“And you’re the hairy one.” Brittany felt silly, giddy, delirious. She kissed his jaw, his neck, his collarbone.

“I am most certainly not hairy.”

“Show me.” She peeled at his shirt, his belt buckle.

“Right here? Right now?”

“Yep.”

So he did.

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Seventeen

“Why black and gold?” Alexis was saying to Ethan, as she peeled her shoes off and flopped on the pink suede couch Corbin and Brittany had picked out when they had bought their new house.

Their decorating tastes had collided so that their living room wasBombay meets the Cotswolds, with a splash of Vegas glitz thrown in. Atrocious by some standards, but perfect for them.

“Why not purple and gold?” Alexis continued.

“BecauseNew Orleans already uses that for Mardi Gras,” Ethan told his wife dryly.

“But what about purple and black? Green and black? Yellow and chartreuse? Black is so morbid. Even for a vampire inaugural ball.”

From the chair on the other side of the coffee table, Corbin listened to the discussion with only half an ear. He was too busy staring at his daughter, who was astonishingly perfect, from the tip of her soft, distended head, to her wrinkled red and peeling toes.

“It’s black and gold and that is just the way it is,” Ethan told her, leaning over Corbin’s shoulder to tickle Ava’s tiny fingers. “Hello, gorgeous. Did you stay awake to see your Uncle Ethan in his triumph?

Everyone else has to call me Mr. President or President Carrick, but you get to call me Uncle Ethan, what do you think of that?”

“She’s awake because Corbin won’t lay her down,”Brittany said, giving a yawn. “She’s four days old and she has him wrapped completely around her finger.”

“She’s not sleepy,” Corbin protested, holding Ava on his knees. “Her eyes are wide open, staring at me.

Her beautiful big brown eyes just like her mama’s. Isn’t that right, precious?” He looked down at his daughter and she blinked back at him, her little button nose wrinkling a little. His heart had that unmistakable sensation of skipping a beat, as it had with regularity since the minute he had first laid eyes on his baby in the labor and delivery room. Ava Coco Renee Atelier had come into the world screaming, red-faced and angry, her lusty cries echoing in the room, and he knew in that moment that she could spit up on him, throw tantrums, wreck her car at sixteen, and he would never do anything but adore her.

It was awe-inspiring and frightening and glorious.

“If you would like to sleep, Brittany, go ahead, ma chérie . I will stay up with her.” His wife yawned again. “Maybe I should. The little beast will want to eat again in two hours anyway.

Better sleep while I can.”

“She is not a little beast, are you, darling?” he asked Ava, her barely there eyelashes brushing up and down as she blinked. “You’re just hungry, aren’t you, and Mama is tired. We’ll let Mama sleep and you and I will entertain your aunt and uncle, yes we will.” He ran his thumb over the softness of her cheek.

“You are perfect, you know that, don’t you?”

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“Oh, my God,” Alexis said, grinning. “Listen to you. She does have you wrapped around her finger. And what on earth is she wearing? Her shirt says, Daddy drinks because I cry . Okay, that’s funny in a warped sort of way, though I cannot imagine that either one of you bought this.” Corbin winced at the white T-shirt his daughter had on.

Brittanygave a laugh. “Hardly. The onesie is a gift from Corbin’s friend Travis. The Baby Boot Camp graduates stopped by with their congrats earlier.”

“Brittanythought it would be a nice gesture to have Ava in the outfit Travis sent to the hospital.” Personally, Corbin wanted to burn it.

“Nice,” Ethan said.

“Okay, I’m off to bed,”Brittany yawned. “Night. Bye, baby.” She ran her hand over Ava’s downy hair, then waved to all of them. “Congrats again, Ethan. I knew you’d win the election.” When the bedroom door closed behind her, Alexis lifted her eyebrows. “Geez, Corbin, Brit looks drunk. She’s swaying on her feet.”

“We’ve hardly slept at all in four days. Maybe a few hours each. You know how hard her delivery was.” During which he had felt like a helpless idiot. But mortal. Wonderfully, vulnerably, weakly mortal.

It was amazing.

When his daughter had left the hospital, he had walked beside the wheelchair carrying his wife and baby, right out into the spring sunshine. It was the finest moment of his long life.

“If you ever need us to babysit her at night, we’d be good at that,” Alexis said with a grin. “Since we’re up anyway. It would give you both a chance to get a good night’s sleep.”

“Thank you. Maybe in a day or two.” Right then he figured he would stay awake looking at Ava until he absolutely could not keep his eyes open another second. But he supposed eventually he was going to have to sleep.

“How was the ball?” he asked Alexis. “Was there a good attendance?”

“It was a madhouse. It seemed like every vampire in the western hemisphere was there offering congrats. Everyone except Gregor, who of course, despite his adeptness at hiding it from the Nation, is not really a vampire anymore anyway. He gave his concession speech after the election and has been lying low at the Bellagio. Man, I don’t know what we would have done if he had won.”

“He wouldn’t have won,” Carrick said confidently.

“And Donatelli?” Corbin asked.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “I despise him. Bloody bastard gets on my nerves.” Then he frowned. “Beg pardon, Ava. I’ll have to watch the language now that she’s around. But anyway, Donatelli was there, reveling in the glory of our win. Damn irritating. Shit. Darn irritating.”

“You’re just annoyed because he danced with Gwenna.”

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“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. She had no business waltzing around the room in his arms.”

“Will you relax? She only did it because he cornered her and she didn’t want to make a scene. Hey, maybe we should set Gwenna up with one of your friends.”

“I don’t think so!”

“Why not? She could use a boyfriend.”

“No.”

“Yes, I think it’s a great idea.”

Corbin interrupted their good-natured bickering to say, “I am grateful to Gwenna for befriendingBrittany and reassuring her about Ava’s future. They’ve become good friends.”

“It’s good for Gwenna, too. I think it’s helped her pain heal,” Ethan said. “And she needs friends likeBrittany more than she needs a bloody boyfriend.” Alexis snorted. “Stop being such a big brother.”

Corbin let them resume their circular argument as he watched Ava stretch her plump arms out to the side. Eight pounds six ounces at birth. A ten on the Apgar score. Latched on first try. Yes, she was definitely perfect.

And this was happiness, past and present and future, fleeting yet permanent, a drop in the bucket of time, yet eternal. Immortal.

The bedroom door opened and Brittany came back out.

“What es ze matter?” he asked. She looked sleepy, her eyes squinting against the lamplight.

With a shrug, she just gave a smile. “I just forgot to do this.” Bending over, she kissed him on the lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Aren’t they cute?” Alexis asked Ethan.

“We’re cuter, babe,” he told her, and dipped her back to a rousing kiss.

“I’m covering your eyes, Ava,” Corbin told his daughter, even as Brittany draped herself across his back. “Your aunt and uncle are being inappropriate.”

“Hey,” Alexis protested, pulling her mouth from Ethan’s. “If it wasn’t for our lust, she wouldn’t even exist. You would have never metBrittany if I hadn’t been living in the Ava.”

“Wrong. I metBrittany first, so Corbin met her because of me, not you or your lust for me,” Ethan told her. He frowned at Corbin andBrittany as Alexis whacked him on the arm. “And I still can’t believe you named our niece after a casino.”

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“It’s your casino,”Brittany said. “Doesn’t that make it better?” Corbin smiled back at her. “Should we tell them why we named her Ava?”

“If you’re going to tell me she was conceived in my casino, I could do without that information.”

“It’s not that scandalous. We named her Ava because we couldn’t agree on anything else, because it’s pretty, and because we did meet at the Ava. And actually, just as an FYI, she was conceived in that chair you’re sitting in,”Brittany told him.

“Christ!” Ethan leaped out of the chair.

Corbin laughed. “She is joking, Carrick.”

Though we have done creative things on that chair,Brittany said.

“Not that we need to share that, ma chérie ,” Corbin said, a little surprised.

“Share what?” she asked him.

“What you just said,” he replied.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Did not.” Give it a rest.

“Pardon? Give it a rest? That’s a bit harsh.”

Brittanysat up straight. “I didn’t say that out loud.” Are you sure?

Positive.

Corbin looked at her in astonishment. “I can read your thoughts again.”

“I can hear yours, too.”

Brittanyhad tears in her eyes and she sniffled. “Everything is right, isn’t it?” Corbin held his daughter, kissed his wife. “Yes, it es. Everything es just right.”