"I know. I was just checking," Tiny interrupted and then sighed. "So, Jean Claude shouldn't have been able to control her for so long, but somehow managed to. And someone controlled her today, but it couldn't be Jean Claude because he's dead, right?"

"He was supposed to be dead five hundred years ago too," Marcus pointed out dryly.

That comment had a stultifying effect on everyone. Three pairs of eyes turned to him as if he'd suggested they hold an all-male orgy.

Marcus shrugged. "Well, it's true. He was supposed to be dead for more than twenty years when he returned and reclaimed his wife. And," he added grimly, "the man supposedly died in a fire this last time. What if it wasn't him they buried?"

"Dear God," Julius breathed with horror and stood up. "She's not safe here. We have to take her back to Italy."

"I doubt she'd be any safer there than here," Tiny argued. "Besides, we need her to remember and you need to keep her here to help her do that."

Julius considered this briefly and then shook his head. "There is security on my estate. It would be difficult for anyone to get close enough to control her there. It is more important to keep her safe. We can resolve everything else later if necessary."

"You're going to have to tell her everything," Tiny warned. "Right now she's probably packing her bags and ordering a taxi," he said and then frowned and asked, "Why the hell didn't you just tell us everything from the beginning?"

Julius snorted at the idea. "That would have worked well, I'm sure. What should I have said, "Hello, Marguerite. I'm Julius Notte, your long lost lifemate. I know you don't remember me, but we met five hundred years ago when you thought you were a widow. We're true lifemates and love each other more than life. We even married and were expecting our first child when Jean Claude, your husband who was supposed to be dead, showed up. You dumped me for him, ordered our child murdered and then killed the maid for not killing him. Oh, and by the way, those twenty-two years or so you spent in Europe? Never happened. And maybe your husband is alive now, we're not sure, but heck, let's be lifemates and live happily ever after, huh?"

Tiny grimaced. "I guess it would have sounded pretty farfetched when you first showed up in London. Especially after you attacked me and everything."

"You were in bed with my lifemate," Julius snapped. "As for telling her now, despite everything that has happened, she will probably still find it too farfetched to believe. That's why I didn't even try to explain to her just now when she asked me to. She is never going to believe me. She'll think I'm mad, or lying, or..."

"Another Jean Claude," Tiny suggested quietly when he shook his head helplessly.

"Yes," Julius said miserably. "That bastard hurt her terribly. She has trust issues because of him and I don't know if our love is enough to help her get past her fears and believe in me...in us."

They were all silent, and then Tiny said tentatively, "You might be able to convince her. There is that painting in your desk that Christian mentioned.

Julius was considering that and wondering if it would help convince Marguerite of the truth behind the seemingly wild tale when Tiny suddenly straightened, his expression excited.

"Was Martine here when it all happened?" he asked.

"No. I told you, when we met, Marguerite was living here while Martine-"

"Oh, right-right," he said on a sigh and was silent for a moment before asking, "Where was her oldest son, Lucern?"

Julius sighed. "He was here in York with her for the first couple of weeks after she moved in, but I didn't meet her until after he left. Marguerite sent messengers out to look for him when we decided to marry, but he was a mercenary and moved around a lot and it took a while to reach him. Then we realized she was pregnant with Christian and decided we couldn't wait for his return. I gather he popped up back in York a few days after his father returned."

"Lucern was a mercenary?" Tiny asked with disbelief. "I thought he was a romance writer?"

Julius sighed. "I'm sure he has been many things, Tiny, he's over six hundred years old. When he was young he was a warrior. Now he's a romance writer. Five hundred years from now he may be a scientist. Interests change when you have the time to explore them."

"Right," Tiny muttered and then asked, "Wasn't there anyone around from her family who could help back you up?"

Julius started to shake his head and then paused. "Her brother-in-law."

"Lucian?" Tiny asked with dismay.

"Intimidating fellow, isn't he?" Julius asked dryly. "He gave me the talk."

"The talk?"

"The If you hurt her, I'll kill you talk," he said dryly.

"Yeah?" Tiny grinned.

Julius sighed. "He's a hard bastard and he was Jean Claude's twin brother. I don't think he'd be very helpful."

"I don't know," Marcus said suddenly, and Julius glanced at him in question. "Well, despite their being twins, Jean Claude let Lucian think he was dead along with everyone else. He obviously didn't trust him to keep the secret."

Tiny shook his head. "No, he wouldn't. From what I know of the family, Lucian's a hardcore, by-the-book type. He'd have turned Jean Claude in to the council."

"That doesn't necessarily apply to his brother, and doesn't mean he'd help me out now," Julius pointed out.

"No," Tiny agreed on a sigh.

"I think we should leave the issue of finding a family member to help back up your story until we see if Marguerite needs the extra convincing," Christian announced. "The picture and your word might be enough."

"Do you think so?" Julius asked uncertainly.

He shrugged. "There is only one way to find out."

"Right." Julius stood...and then sat back down. "What do I say?"

"Just tell her everything," Tiny advised. "Be honest. We'll back you up if necessary. And if it doesn't convince her, ask her to at least come home to Italy with you so you can show her the picture and perhaps call Lucian to get him to back you up."

Nodding, Julius straightened his shoulders and stood up again. He strode purposefully up the hall, reached the stairs and then turned back, turned to the stairs again, then hesitated once more. This was the most important thing in the world to him. He was about to ask her to trust him on blind faith. Something he hadn't managed to give her five hundred years ago. He didn't want to spend another five hundred years without her. He didn't want to lose her for a minute. He had to do this right.

"Father," Christian said quietly, walking up the hall toward him.

Julius glanced at him, relieved for the excuse to delay.

"Get your ass up there and talk to the woman. I've spent five hundred years without a mother because you were too stupid to talk to her back then and find out what was going on. And she spent that same time in a marriage that was hell for the same reason. It's time to fix things."

Well, as support went, it rather sucked, Julius decided with disgruntlement and began to trudge upstairs. The hall was silent when he reached the landing. Julius forced himself to cross to the door, reached for the knob, then hesitated. What if he got it wrong and messed up yet again?

"Go."

He glanced over his shoulder, scowling at his son. Christian was now at the foot of the stairs glaring at him. Turning away, Julius shook his head and opened the door. He didn't panic when he found it empty. Marguerite had obviously returned to her own room. The message was "No more nooky for you, mister." He supposed he should have expected that, he probably wouldn't be able to lure her back to his bed until all of this was straightened out.

Wincing at the thought, he moved to the next door, but didn't hesitate this time. Julius could actually feel Christian's beady little eyes glaring into the back of his head, so he opened the door at once and then stepped inside to peer around, only to realize this room too was empty.

Turning away he peered at the open bathroom door, and then checked the last bedroom despite the fact that she would have no reason to be there. Of course, she wasn't there either. Marguerite was gone.

Marguerite's eyes widened at the hordes before her as she paused at the mouth of the alley. It opened on to a busy street filled with shoppers moving every which way. While she'd thought the streets were busy at night, they were nothing like the mass of humanity before her now. It made her glad she normally only came out at night. This was madness.

Terribly aware of the sun overhead, Marguerite forced herself to move, thrusting herself into the herd, her nose quivering as she was pressed from every side. Now that she was out of the house, Marguerite was becoming aware of a need for blood. The attack last night had caused a lot of damage and used a lot of blood to heal it, and while Julius had fed her several bags at the time, she knew she should have had three or four more bags on awaking. Instead she'd had none. That was going to be a problem.

She was already paying the price, cramps starting in her stomach.

Marguerite sighed to herself. Her heart was breaking and she was a hungry vampire surrounded by several hundred, or even thousand, living, breathing blood bags with legs. She could feel her teeth shifting in her mouth as the smell of them hit her.

Feeling like a fox dropped in the center of a hen house, Marguerite forced her fangs back into place and hurried up the street, doing her best to weave around people to avoid contact. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to have the same concern. They were brushing, bumping, and knocking her at every turn. It seemed that personal space wasn't a consideration here, she thought with annoyance, withstanding the urge to grab the first plump mortal she passed and drag them into the nearest snickleway for a nibble. She had to get out of there.

Much to Marguerite's relief, the crowd began to thin as she reached the end of the street. She'd broken free of the town center, she realized and paused to peer around. The roads here were wider, allowing vehicles and the first thing she spotted was a row of taxis at a stand. Breathing out with relief, she hurried to the first one in line and leapt into the backseat.

Pulling the door closed with a slam, Marguerite glanced toward the front of the taxi, only to frown when she realized the driver was missing. She twisted on the seat, peering about until she saw a handsome young man break away from a small group of men gathered by the third car. He nodded at her as he hurried toward the taxi and Marguerite relaxed back in the seat.

She eyed his throat as he slid into the driver's seat in front, and then blinked as his voice sounded over the little intercom system between the glass separating front and back of the vehicle.

"Where to, love?"

Marguerite hesitated, and then asked, "Can I fly from York to Canada?"

He shook his head and turned in his seat to peer at her through the glass. His smile was engaging as his eyes slid over her with interest. "Sorry, love. You'd be wantin' an international airport for that. The nearest one is-"

"Take me to the train station," Marguerite interrupted, uncaring where the nearest international airport was. If she couldn't fly out of York, she'd return to London and fly out of there. She just wanted to get moving. While being in the taxi was better than being outside, the windows weren't curtained and sunlight was still reaching her. The sooner she was indoors, the better.

Nodding, the man turned to face front and started the engine.

Marguerite noticed his eyes finding her repeatedly in the mirror and looking her over, but didn't speak. Her own attention was fixated on the tan skin of his neck beneath his short-cut dark hair. She was hungry and not for food. Her cramping was becoming more insistent and painful.

She felt her teeth shift again in demand, and slid her tongue forward to touch the tip of one as she stared hard at the man's neck, an image coming to mind of her leaning forward and burying her teeth in his throat. Of course, she couldn't, the glass barrier was between them, but that didn't stop the image from replaying through her head along with an imagining of the relief she would feel were she to do that. The pain would ease, and the clamoring in her would be reduced to a less frantic din. All she had to do was- "Here we are."

Marguerite blinked and glanced out the window at the people moving in and out of the doors he'd stopped in front of; the York train station. The idea of having to move through that crowd while she was in such a state was a scary one.

"That'll be-"

The driver's words died as Marguerite turned back and slid inside his mind. Turning in his seat, he shifted gears and pulled out onto the road again, steering them out of the busy traffic and onto a quieter street. He pulled into a parking lot and parked, got out of the front seat and climbed into the back, his expression blank as he settled on the bench beside her.

Marguerite didn't waste time. Shifting, she climbed onto his lap facing him, her knees on either side of his hips on the seat. She tilted his head to the side and sank her teeth into his neck. The driver's body went stiff and he jerked as her fangs pierced skin, but then he moaned with excitement and raised his hands to grasp her hips as she began to share her pleasure and relief with him. Closing her eyes, Marguerite sighed and ignored the way he clutched at her hips, pulling her hard against him, her concentration was on the blood flowing into her body, easing the pain.

Twelve.

"I thought you were going to let me buy you a drink?"

Marguerite smiled dryly at that laughing complaint from the man she was leading by the hand, and assured him, "I am."

"Well, forgive me for saying so, love, but leading a man back here is like to make him think it's more than a drink yer wantin'."

"And what would a man think of that?" she asked with amusement, releasing his hand and turning to catch him by the tie instead as she backed farther into the quiet corner of the locker area where she'd brought several others over the last half hour.

Vampire on a rampage, she thought with self-mockery. It had been a long time since she had fed off the hoof. She'd forgotten how exhilarating it could be; choosing your prey, stalking him while allowing him to think he was stalking you, then luring them into a dark or deserted corner and...

"He'd be thinking he's one lucky son of a bitch," her prey admitted, his voice going low and husky as she bumped up against the lockers.

Chuckling, Marguerite ran one hand down his chest as she drew his head down with her hold on his tie and whispered, "Would you like me to tell you a secret?"

A slow smile spread across his face and he said, "Go on then, tell us."

Smiling, she leaned up by his ear. His arms immediately closed around her, his hands roaming.

"I'm hungry," Marguerite whispered. She felt his hands still in confusion, then clutch at her as she sank her teeth into his throat. In the next moment, he moaned and pulled her tight, pressing his body into hers as she fed. He was the sixth man she'd bitten since the taxi driver. Marguerite only took a little from each, but wished she could take more, she needed it. Her people were allowed to feed on mortals in an emergency, and this was an emergency. Unfortunately, the York train station had skylights overhead and no matter where she went, the sun seemed to follow. She doubted it was going to be much better on the train with all its windows. She couldn't seem to escape the sun today and hoped it wasn't an omen for the trip ahead.

Of course, one thing had gone right at least. Marguerite had borrowed a phone from her first blood donor and called Tiny's mobile, managing to reach him when he was alone and her call wouldn't draw the suspicion or attention of the Nottes. He was going to slip out of the house and catch a taxi to the train station. They'd take a train back to London, and then catch a flight back to Canada. This whole episode of her life would be over and done with and she could start the miserable business of trying to forget it.

"Are you quite done? I'm growing tired of watching him squeeze your ass."

Marguerite froze at those sharp words, her eyes popping open and landing on Julius Notte's furious expression. Panic struck, followed by anger, but she controlled both and concentrated on retracting her teeth and her mind from the man she'd been feeding from, then released her snack and sent him on his way, the whole incident wiped from his memory.

Marguerite concentrated on him until he was out of sight before turning to face Julius.

"What are you doing here?" she asked grimly.

"Looking for my lifemate," he snapped.

"Well, keep looking," she said coldly and turned to walk back out into the station proper.

"I don't have to, I found her," Julius said, keeping pace with her and taking her arm.

"Sorry, I'm not your lifemate, I just look like her," Marguerite said, shaking off his hold and then added sarcastically, "Lucky me. I must have the most common face in history. First Jean Claude and now you." Pausing abruptly, she scowled at him. "What did you do with Tiny? I suppose you read him to find out I was here?"

"No. He told me."

Her eyes widened in alarm, then narrowed and she hissed, "Liar."

"I don't lie," Julius said quietly. "Tiny did tell me, and he's here looking for you too along with Marcus and Christian. The four of us split up to search the station when we didn't find you by the magazine shop where you were supposed to meet him."

Shaking her head, she turned to walk away and he said, "Marguerite, we are lifemates. I can't read or control you. I wish I could," he added in a mutter. "I'd take control right now and march you out to the first taxi I could find and give you a good spanking for letting dirty old men touch you."

"Dirty old men?" Marguerite cried, swinging around in disbelief. "He was a businessman, well dressed and clean-cut and he was no more than thirty-seven, a damned sight younger than you."

"But he looks older," Julius said smugly. He looked less than smug, however, when he added, "and he's mortal. Probably disease ridden."

Marguerite stared at his disgruntled face, the realization slowly dawning that he was jealous. Jean Claude had never been jealous. He'd enjoyed watching her feed on male mortals. In fact, she suspected he would have liked to see her do more than that and just hoped to God he hadn't taken control and made her do so. If he had, she just didn't want to know.

"Please, Marguerite," Julius said quietly. "Just come with me and let me explain things."

She shifted uncertainly, the request tempting, very tempting in fact. Marguerite wanted him to be able to explain all her worries and fears away. She didn't want to lose him, but fear and pride made her shake her head and turn away. "I have to catch a train to London."

"Good, we're heading that way too, we'll accompany you," he said taking her arm again.

"I don't want accompanying," she said firmly, shaking off his hold.