"Damn," DJ breathed, trailing him up the winding staircase to the second floor.

Stopping at Mabel's door, Victor raised a hand to knock, and then decided against it. If the woman was sleeping, he could slip into her mind and see if he could read it without ever disturbing her. If not, he'd claim he'd thought it was Elvi's room. Nodding to himself, he reached for the doorknob and opened the door.

Mabel wasn't asleep. She was sitting up in bed, glasses perched on her nose, and one of those torrid female romance books in her hands.

She glanced up with surprise at the intrusion, and then scowled when she saw Victor standing there with DJ hovering behind.

"Have you ever heard of knocking?" she asked sharply. "What do you want?"

Victor didn't bother to answer; instead he concentrated on her forehead and sent his thoughts out to find hers. Much to his relief, he slipped into her mind like a warm knife through soft butter. His jaw immediately dropped at the thoughts and feelings whirling there.

Mabel wasn't as hard core as she'd have them believe. In fact, she was as soft as a roasted marshmallow. The hard outer casing was just a protective shell she put on to deal with the world. Her husband had been a weak man and she'd been forced to deal with everything the least bit difficult in life, from disciplining their children to handling recalcitrant servicemen and so on. Mabel hadn't been comfortable dealing with everything unsupported and had longed for her husband to be the strong male he'd seemed to be while courting her.

She'd been so unhappy, she might have divorced him, but had been pregnant with their first child by the time she'd learned the weak nature his macho approach had hidden. That hadn't seemed like a good enough reason to break up a family. After all, he wasn't a wife beater or alcoholic, she'd told herself and struggled on, taking on all the hard tasks in life in his stead.

That wasn't what had Victor's jaw dropping, however. That didn't surprise him at all. Her love and concern for Elvi had already told him she wasn't the hard case she liked to project. What made his jaw drop was the small tornado of turmoil she was suffering at their appearance.

There was no confusion in the woman's mind over Victor, his presence just annoyed her, but DJ was another matter. Mabel liked the younger immortal, which didn't bother her as much as the fact that she found him unbearably attractive. His appearance raised all sorts of longings in her and a lust like nothing she'd experienced since she was a teenager. This in turn caused guilt and horror because she thought he was so much younger than her and she thought it was disgusting to have erotic fantasies and dreams about a boy no older than her own son. The woman was finding the whole situation unbearable and heart wrenching.

"Well?" Mabel snapped the word, but he knew that her self-disgust made her tone sharper than she'd intended.

"Victor?" DJ hissed and he didn't need to read the immortals mind to know what he was asking. Could he read Mabel?

"Yes," Victor said to answer DJ's question and the realization that washed over the man's face as he accepted that she was, indeed, his lifemate was enough to make up his mind on how to answer Mabel. His own situation may be a mess, but DJ's didn't have to be. "Hellooo!" Mabel said with irritation. "Is there a reason you've barged into my room in the middle of the night? Did you want something?"

"I don't, but DJ does. He wants you," Victor answered, collaring the younger immortal and shoving him into the room. Ignoring DJ's embarrassed protestations and Mabel's horrified squawking, Victor started to close the door, then paused. "Despite his looks, he's one hundred and eleven years old, Mabel. An older man, not a young stud. There's no reason you shouldn't enjoy each other. You can stop feeling guilty for lusting after him."

Victor pulled the door closed, but didn't leave; instead he waited and listened, then even stooped to peer through the keyhole when the silence in the room drew out. He would just stay long enough to be sure DJ didn't screw it up and they didn't need further refereeing. By his guess, DJ was either about to land his lifemate, or mess up everything.

"Did he say one hundred and eleven?" Mabel asked in a whisper after several moments of silence.

DJ cleared his throat, then finally looked at Mabel and nodded solemnly. "One hundred and twelve actually. I just had a birthday last week."

Mabel sank back against the headboard, her hands dropping weakly to her lap and taking the book with them. "One hundred and twelve,"

she murmured faintly, obviously having difficulty wrapping her mind around that and unsure what it meant for her.

DJ was still for so long that Victor nearly opened the door and shouted at him to get to it, but then the man suddenly straightened his shoulders and moved toward the bed. "He was also telling the truth when he said that I want you, Mabel."

"You mean to feed on?" she asked uncertainly.

"No." DJ's voice was strong now and assured as he moved around the bed and approached her. "I want you. I find you endlessly fascinating, amusing and exciting. I want you. Your body, your mind, your heart. All of you."

"No, you don't," she said with certainty. "I'm old."

"I'm older, and always will be," DJ countered easily.

"But I look old," Mabel shot back, eyes widening as he drew nearer. She began to pull the blankets up to her chin.

"I love the way you look," DJ said simply.

"Then you need glasses," Mabel said grimly. "My face is as wrinkled as a prune."

"Your face is marked with the lines of life, put there by love and laughter, suffering and tears. It's beautiful." DJ paused beside the bed and eased slowly to sit next to her.

"But-"

DJ didn't wait for her to voice more fears, leaning forward, he kissed first her forehead, then her eyes, forcing her to close them, and then he kissed her on the mouth. It was a hot kiss and Victor had to bite his lip to keep from shouting out '"Atta boy!"

He almost left then, but waited to see whether she'd toss him out, or give in to the inevitable. Women could be difficult in these situations.

Immortals knew that once they found a member of the opposite sex they couldn't read, they'd found their lifemate and accepted it as bond.

Mortals generally took a little time to come around, fearing rushing into things and making mistakes.

DJ ended the kiss and sat back, giving her a chance to respond; both he, and Victor in the hall, waited with bated breath.

She simply sat there staring at him, her face an expressway with conflicting and confused thoughts flashing past like cars. Finally, she tossed aside the book she'd been reading, and reached for DJ.

"That a girl, Mabel," Victor breathed and started to straighten, then jerked upright at the slam of a door up the hall. Turning with alarm, he found Elvi in front of her door.

Chapter Twelve

"It's not what you think." Victor said as he hurried down the stairs after Elvi. "Really. I was just trying to help DJ."

"By playing Peeping Tom on Mabel?" she asked with disbelief, flouncing off the stairs in her blue robe and turning into the dining room.

"What? Were you supposed to report back to DJ on what she wears to bed?"

"No, of course not," he said quickly. "Besides he knows. He's in there with her."

Elvi froze and whirled back. "What?"

"That probably wasn't the best way to go about explaining things," Victor muttered.

"What is DJ doing up there?" Anger replaced by concern, Elvi rushed back now, hurrying past him for the stairs, obviously intent on saving Mabel.

Cursing, Victor hurried after her.

"Wait, stop, you'll ruin everything," he hissed, catching up to her and grabbing her arm to stop her outside the bedroom door.

Elvi whirled, mouth open, no doubt to yell at him to let her go, but they both froze at the sudden cry that came through the bedroom door.

Mouth snapping closed, she spun back to grab the bedroom door, but froze again as Mabel's voice came loud and clear, gasping, "Oh, DJ!

God, yes!"

Blinking, she released the knob as if it had turned into a snake and stared at the closed door as if she'd never seen it before.

A growl-definitely DJ's-sounded, almost drowning out the rhythmic squeaking of the antique bed that left them in no doubt as to what was happening beyond the door.

"He works fast," Victor muttered with surprise, and then shrugged. The first time with a lifemate was always fast and furious, the pent-up longings and flashpoint passions bursting into flames and burning them both up quickly as they fed on each other's desire. If Victor was very lucky, he might get to experience that very thing soon.

Briefly, he added on a sigh. If Elvi was his lifemate, fate couldn't have handed him a worse hand. The last thing he would have hoped for was a lifemate who might very well be executed by the council. It wasn't exactly every immortal's dream woman.

"What are they doing?" Elvi asked uncertainly.

Victor peered at her with disbelief, then caught his hands behind his back and stared at the hall wall, refusing to meet her gaze. He was not explaining what was going on in that room. She was old enough to know what it was anyway and was-he was sure-just having difficulty believing that her sturdy, grumpy friend could make sounds like that.

He was rather surprised himself, Victor decided, as Mabel cried, "Harder. Oh yes! Oh, DJ! Oh God, yes! Ride me till the cows come home!"

Victor blinked at that, and then asked uncertainly, "Did she grow up on a dairy farm?"

Elvi opened her mouth, closed it again, then threw up her hands and whirled away as Mabel shouted something about stallions and saddles.

Victor's gaze dropped to the keyhole, but he shook his head and turned to follow Elvi. DJ was on his own.

Elvi's back was stiff as she descended the stairs once more.

Victor followed, searching his mind for something to say to ease the situation, but really, this was beyond him so he remained silent as he followed her through the dining room and around the counter into the kitchen. Elvi opened the refrigerator to consider its contents, and Victor glanced out the window to see that the fire was out and the men were now gone. He supposed they'd gone to their rooms while he was out with DJ.

The slam of the refrigerator door drew his startled gaze as Elvi turned on him.

"If he's messing with her feelings I will personally hide him," she warned through gritted teeth.

"He isn't," Victor assured her quickly. "He can't read her."

"And what the hell am I supposed to take that to mean?" she asked with mingled anger and bewilderment.

"It means she's his lifemate," Victor explained. "He won't hurt her."

"His lifemate," Elvi echoed, obviously confused, and he was reminded that she hadn't been taught all the things he'd been taught centuries ago and took for granted.

"Each of us has a lifemate," he explained. "Someone we can't read or control who is our perfect mate. Mabel is DJ's."

"But Mabel isn't a vampire," she said.

"An immortal," he corrected.

"Whatever," Elvi snapped. "She is mortal. How can she be his lifemate?"

"She isn't an immortal yet," Victor corrected. "If she agrees to be his lifemate, he will change her."

"He can do that?" she asked with amazement.

"Of course. DJ has never turned anyone, so by our laws is free to turn her if he wishes."

"That makes absolutely no sense to me," Elvi informed him on an unhappy sigh. "But what I meant was... Can he actually, physically turn her? I mean, I tried several times to turn Mabel. The books say biting them three times will do it, but I must have bit her a dozen times and she never turned. We kept trying and trying, but-"

"You tried to turn Mabel?" Victor asked with horror.

"Well, of course," she said, obviously surprised by his reaction. "We've been friends since childhood and suddenly I was young again and strong and she wanted to be too, and I didn't want to be alone in this."

Victor opened his mouth, thought better of what he'd been about to say, shook his head and instead said, "They have to consume or take in your blood. The sire has to give up their own blood. It carries the nanos. They'll move into the turnee's bloodstream, reproduce themselves, and spread until they infect the whole body."

"Right. Nanos," Elvi muttered to herself. She'd been pondering that while in her bath earlier. Considering what the men had said had left her feeling slightly deflated. As much as she hated to admit it, she was almost sorry to hear she was a vampire because of nanos, not a curse. It was ridiculous, she knew but... that was how she felt.

Her dissatisfaction must have shown in her voice. Victor's eyebrows rose and he asked, "What?"

Elvi grimaced, and then shook her head. "It's just so... Well, there's no romance in nanos and science and... stuff."

"And there is in the explanation of the cursed and soulless walking dead?" he asked with disbelief.

She scowled, feeling foolish. "Well, at least the vampire is a tragic hero and not some science experiment."

Victor rolled his eyes. "The Dracula of Bram Stoker's story is not a tragic hero. He's a parasite, feeding on and turning the innocent willynilly, and the man he's based on damned near got us all destroyed back in the day."

"Dracula was based on a real person?" Elvi asked with interest. "Can I meet him?""No," Victor snapped. "He's dead."

"How could he be dead?" she asked. "We're immortal."

"No, we're not. I mean, we are mostly, but we can die if we're beheaded or-"

"Staked?" she asked.

"Staked, stabbed, or being shot in the heart can kill us if the implement used is left there. As will being burnt to death."

"Hmm." She considered this news, and then frowned.

"Then why on earth do you keep insisting I call it immortal? We aren't immortal at all. We're vampires."

Before he could respond to that, Elvi said, "So how did this man Dracula was based on nearly get you all destroyed?"

Victor's mouth twisted with irritation. This was a sore spot for him. "By being a bloody, stupid lush who mouthed off to Stoker and told him all about our kind while he was drunk. We had managed to get away with only causing quiet rumors ere that. Once Jean Claude opened his stupid mouth and Stoker published his book, we were hunted. It took decades to convince the majority that it was all fiction and we still have to wipe minds and stop the occasional vampire stalker."

"Immortal stalker," she corrected absently, and then asked, "So Dracula was based on someone named Jean Claude. Who was he?"

"Not exactly based on him, no, and I'm not discussing this," Victor muttered and moved to the refrigerator to retrieve a bag of blood for her. She was looking pale.

"So you have to give them your blood," Elvi said, returning to the original point. "Huh. I must have missed that part of the movie."

"What movie?" he asked with confusion as he handed her the bag.