The resounding slam of the door behind him made Emily wince. She resisted the urge to run after him and offer comfort. She knew he was in pain, but refused to allow him to take it out on her. Nor would she let his anger and heartache overshadow her first time with him. With a long sigh, she got out of bed and went into the bathroom to shower, hoping they would have both calmed down by the time they spoke again.

Thirty minutes later, Emily left the bedroom and entered the sitting room, clutching the lapels of the robe closed with her hands as she searched the sitting room for Nicholas. She grimaced when her gaze fell on Brannon, who still wore his sungla.s.ses. She rolled her eyes at the affectation before turning to go back into the bedroom.

"Emily?" She halted in mid-step. "Yeah?"

"Are you looking for Nicholas?"

"No. Yes. Actually, I'm looking for clothing." She waved a hand at the robe. "I don't want to wear this to the airport."

He nodded. "There were some boxes delivered this morning. I guess Nicholas made arrangements last night." He pointed toward the main door of the suite. "They're by the entryway table."

She walked over to the small stack and opened one at random. Lifting the lid revealed a pair of ecru linen trousers. The next box yielded a black silk shirt with a frilly yoke. The next box held underwear, and the last box contained a pair of black slip-on shoes. They were all in her size.

She lifted the stack and turned back to the bedroom. A few feet from the door, she stopped and turned toward him, striving for a casual tone. "Where is Nicholas?"

Brannon shrugged. "He went out. He probably went to see about Father Michael's burial arrangements or to say goodbye in private. It will be a while before we return to New York."

She shifted the boxes. "How long is a while?"

"Until we stop Koss. It could take years. Nicholas has begun preparing Vallsade Manor for a long habitation, just in case."

She grimaced. "Sounds terrific."

He shrugged. "It's not so bad, although there isn't much to do out in the middle of nowhere."

She tilted her head. "Don't the people nearby find it strange, having Nicholas never age?"

Brannon shook his head. "Nicholas is careful to reside at Vallsade Manor no more than once a generation, and for no longer than fifteen or twenty years. Before he moves away, he always announces the birth of the next in his line. Nicholas is then 'reborn', keeping his first and last name, but changing his middle name. That's how most vampires do it, although it's gotten tougher since everyone's lives started getting tracked electronically from the moment they're born."

"No one's ever been suspicious?" she pressed.

He shrugged again. "In the old days, people might have realized what he was, but no one pays much attention now. The village near the castle is a ghost town these days, with economic conditions the way they are."

She nodded and turned back to the bedroom. Emily paused. "Do you really think it will take years for Koss to act?"

He hesitated. "I'm not certain. He has a history of prolonging the torture, but I can't imagine him allowing Nicholas to be happy with you for long. Nicholas is preparing for the worst."

She grimaced as she went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. While dressing quickly, she mulled over Brannon's dour a.s.sessment. By the time years had pa.s.sed, there would be no way for her toreturn home without people realizing she had been gone. They would naturally expect an explanation, if they even wanted to see her. Everyone would have forgotten about her by then, or at least moved on, including her parents and Jeremy.

She wondered if Nicholas also thought it might take years. Had his offer to let her go home been an empty promise to placate her? Was he still manipulating her, even now? What if Koss wasn't really his enemy, but was instead his ally? Would he stage this elaborate charade to keep her with him?

An image of Tremont's torn body rose in her mind, followed by the memory of Michael impaled on the sword. Coupled with the dreams she'd had through Nicholas's eyes, there could be no doubt that Koss truly meant her harm, simply because Nicholas loved her.

For now, her safest course was to remain with Nicholas and his nephew. She only prayed it wouldn't take years to deal with Koss. She couldn't tiptoe around Nicholas that long, let alone prevent falling in love with him...if it wasn't already too late to avoid doing that.

The flight from JFK to Heathrow had been unremarkable, save for the incident with her pa.s.sport in New York. When they arrived at the counter to check in, Emily realized she didn't have one. She had pulled Nicholas away to tell him, but he waved aside her concern. She had watched with amazement as he slid his and Brannon's to the clerk, who had given Emily a puzzled look, but after meeting Nicholas's eyes, stamped their pa.s.sports and a Post-It note on the counter before sending them on their way, handing the Post-It to Emily.

She had spent most of the plane ride napping, or at least pretending to. Nicholas had ignored her, and Brannon's handheld video game held his attention. She had disregarded her hurt feelings and retaliated by pretending neither of them existed.

Now, as they left the huge hanger to hail a cab, she fumbled in her purse for sungla.s.ses when the bright sun seared her eyes and saw Nicholas do the same. Brannon had never removed his.

As she walked, the stiffness in her legs began to dissipate. She hardly noticed the sting of returning circulation as she gazed at the people milling about. A babble of different languages mixed disharmoniously, and her eyes widened when they fell on a man about her age wearing a kilt. She couldn't help but appreciate his muscular legs. When he winked at her, she blushed and looked away, straight into Nicholas's eyes.

He looked angry, but didn't speak when opening the door to a cab and indicating she should slide inside. Emily did so, surprised when Brannon sat beside her, and Nicholas took the front seat. She frowned when he got on the driver's side, until she remembered they drove on the wrong side of the street in England-although she supposed the residents of the UK didn't consider it the wrong side.

"Probably not," Brannon murmured out the side of his mouth. He had his head c.o.c.ked sideways and didn't seem to have his eyes on the game, but continued to play.

She glared at him as she leaned closer, keeping her voice low. "Do you always read my thoughts?"

He shrugged. "I try not to, but you don't have a good shield in place yet. You'll learn." "If I live long enough," she muttered under her breath, as the driver pulled away from the curb. She would have been rea.s.sured if Brannon had offered even a token plat.i.tude, but he held his silence. She leaned back against the seat and watched the city of London pa.s.s through the window without really seeing anything.

She frowned in confusion when the driver pulled up to a tall red brick and cream stucco townhouse in the heart of Mayfair. From her recollections as Erin, she knew this couldn't possibly be Vallsade Manor, but had no chance to ask questions as Brannon and Nicholas slid from the cab. Instead, she followed suit, pausing to admire the small section of garden she could see through the wrought iron fence surrounding the property. The flowers had a disorderly appearance that she suspected was carefully designed and maintained. She wanted to ask what the purple blooms were, but they hadn't waited for her.

She quickened her pace and fell in line behind them. As she walked after Brannon, she glanced up at the second and third stories. Delicate shutters with carved hearts covered the windows, but they didn't seem like much of a deterrent for Koss. This place couldn't be safe from Koss. It wasn't a fortress, like the manor was. Perhaps they were stopping by to visit someone?

Nicholas unlocked the door, removing any doubt that he owned the place. Emily trailed behind them, removing her sungla.s.ses and slipping them into her bag as she walked. She looked up and caught her breath when she entered the foyer. The highly polished hardwood flooring absorbed the click of her shoes' heels. The vaulted ceilings seemed to go on forever, as did the endless vistas of the white-papered walls. She frowned at the decor of varying shades of white, having expected red and black like his apartment in New York.

The colors blended well to form an elegant design, but the pale shades seared her eyes. She cupped a hand over her brow to shadow her eyes, noticing Nicholas did the same. Brannon seemed unaffected, and she a.s.sumed his sungla.s.ses protected him, or maybe he wasn't sensitive to bright colors, being only half-vampire.

"We'll freshen up here before heading to Vallsade Manor," Nicholas said, seeming to be addressing both of them, although he didn't turn in their direction. "I haven't yet been in this house, but I viewed it on the Internet before purchasing it. I'm familiar enough with the floor plan to find the rooms. The staircase should be through here..." He trailed off as they left the foyer and entered a sumptuous living room. It contained only the bare bones of necessities-a white sofa, wingchair and tables-but the room still had an elegant air because of the ceramic tiles and arched ceiling. The staircase in the corner was itself an artistic masterpiece of carved blond maple and plush white carpet.

Emily followed behind them, pausing to admire the cherubs carved into the bal.u.s.trades. When she realized they had reached the second landing, she increased her pace to catch up.

Nicholas stopped before a door and opened it. "Why don't you take this one, Brannon? It has an open design, and the decorator hasn't added more than a bed and a dresser. She was waiting for instructions from me."

Brannon inclined his head and slipped past Nicholas. He closed the door behind himself.

He didn't look in her direction as he resumed walking. Emily couldn't help being miffed at his aloof att.i.tude. She shook her head at his continued stubbornness while following him down the carpeted hall.Was he still angry at her for refusing to sleep with him yesterday, or was his coolness motivated by something more?

He paused before another white door and pushed it open. "Here's your room. There's an en suite bathroom, of course. There should be plenty of clothing."

She frowned. "Why? Has some other woman stayed here?" She winced at the whining tone that came from her. She wasn't covetous, was she? She squirmed, recognizing an emotion that was a kissing cousin of jealousy, if it wasn't outright envy.

He sighed. "I imagine they have, since I'm not the original owner. However, I have never been in this house before. I bought it as an investment, and I certainly never expected to stay here. It's been on the market for months. I ordered the clothes yesterday morning, before we left New York. The property management company sent out someone to sign for the delivery. That person was given a list of what arrived and told where to place the packages in each bedroom, as per my instructions."

"Oh." She felt very small at that moment, and his visible contempt did nothing to restore her confidence.

She turned away from him and entered the room, closing the door behind her. Her eyes widened when he knocked a scant second after the latch clicked against the jamb. She opened the door a few inches and peered out at him. "Yes?"

"We will travel at night. Rest a few hours." He glanced at the Rolex on his wrist. "We'll leave around midnight...about ten hours from now." He hesitated for a moment before turning away.

She nodded and closed the door again, leaning against the wood, wondering if he was on the other side, unable to leave. Was he waiting for her to walk away first? Maybe he had his fingers pressed to the wood this very minute, longing to reach out for her. Emily held her breath, waiting to see if he would knock again. Her heart felt like it sank into her stomach when her keen hearing picked up the sound of his shoes walking across the carpet, away from her room. She rested her forehead against the wood, sighing. Was it his intent to ignore her completely until he was able to get rid of her? After loving her for eight hundred years, could he so easily turn off his emotions?

She was just finishing zipping her jeans when a knock came at her door around eleven-thirty. "Come in,"

she called. She refused to acknowledge the dart of disappointment when her visitor turned out to be Brannon instead of Nicholas. "Yes?"

"Nicholas wants to leave as soon as you both feed." He grimaced. "I'm not sure if you've realized it, but the suitcases are for the clothes. Hope you've packed, because your dinner waits downstairs." He couldn't seem to hide his disgust.

She nodded. "I a.s.sumed as much." She gestured to the suitcase by the door, but he didn't glance in that direction. "I'm ready."

He nodded and left the room. Emily lifted the case and followed him down the staircase. When they got downstairs, she realized why Brannon was disgusted when she saw what Nicholas had on the menu.

The girl was young-probably not even seventeen-but had a jaded look in her eyes. A scar marred her brow, but it didn't detract from her wild beauty. She gazed up at Emily and Brannon from her perch on the wingchair and deliberately parted her legs, revealing her lack of underwear under the short skirt.She glanced at Nicholas. "If they're playing to boot, it'll cost ya' extra."

Nicholas inclined his head in Brannon's direction. "His tastes are different than ours."

She shrugged. "Too bad. He's cute."

Brannon cleared his throat. "I'll be in the kitchen."

Emily stood awkwardly once Brannon had left. Hunger pounded through her veins, and she had the urge to grab the girl and rip open her throat. She took a deep breath and released it in a rough exhalation, finding it did little to ease her raging thirst.

"Emily?" Nicholas held out his hand, showing a hint of warmth.

She stepped closer, grasping the hand he offered for support as she looked down at the girl. She experienced a stir of guilt, but forced it away. As long as she didn't kill the girl, there would be no permanent harm inflicted. She a.s.sumed Nicholas had paid the prost.i.tute well, which was more compensation than others she had fed from had received.

The girl smiled up at her. "What do you like, love?" Her accent was as thick as mola.s.ses.

Emily surprised herself when she reached out to caress the girl's frizzy dark curls. She knelt on her knees and pulled the girl closer. The prost.i.tute licked her lips, and she briefly thought about kissing her. At the last minute, she changed her mind and moved her face against the girl's neck, inhaling deeply and finding no telltale odor to indicate the girl was unhealthy.

She was vaguely aware of the girl reaching past her to cup Nicholas's c.o.c.k in her hands, and her eyes widened as she imagined for a moment the things the three of them could do with each other. She blotted out the notion, disconcerted by the direction of her thoughts, and focused on the girl's carotid artery, which she licked cautiously, tracing it with her tongue. The girl sighed with pleasure, and Emily's panties dampened.

Nicholas stepped up behind her, and his hands joined hers in the prost.i.tute's hair. He pressed the girl closer to her, and she delicately pierced the skin of her victim. The girl whimpered, but didn't seem to be in pain. Rather, it was a sound of arousal, and Emily realized her erotic thoughts had automatically carried to the girl, making the feeding pleasurable rather than painful.

She was aware of Nicholas crouching beside her and lifting the girl's wrist to his mouth. The girl shivered, and she bit down harder, relishing in the blood flooding her mouth, lapping it greedily, as the sounds of Nicholas's sucking increased her own hunger-for blood and s.e.x. She tightened her hand in the girl's hair, digging her nails into the prost.i.tute's head.

She heard the girl cry out with pain, but Emily ignored her distress. She pressed closer, eager for more blood, ignoring Nicholas pulling on her arm for as long as she could. When he pried her away, she turned and hissed at him. His eyes held a hint of red, but he appeared to be in control.

"No more." He spoke firmly.

She tried to pull away, anxious to consume more of the girl's lifeblood, but he held her effortlessly. Emily released the girl's hair and raked her nails down Nicholas's face. She gave him a toothy grin when he expelled a harsh breath. The sight of blood dripping from his wound heightened her bloodl.u.s.t, and shelunged forward. He hadn't expected her to do that, she knew, and he fell to the floor. She leaned forward and licked the blood from his face before grinding her lips on his, kissing him open-mouthed.

For a second, he returned the kiss, but then pushed her away. "We need to be going." He spoke without emotion as he got to his feet and turned to the girl in the chair. He touched her neck and nodded.

"She'll be fine with a little rest." Nicholas reached into his pocket to extract his wallet.

Emily watched as he peeled off another bill and tucked it in the girl's bra, where a corner of the folded bills he had already paid her peeked out. She tried to keep the hurt from her eyes as she took deep breaths to regain her control. She was ashamed of her behavior, but couldn't deny her body still burned with desire for blood and s.e.x. For a moment, her eyes rested on the girl's p.u.s.s.y, slick with arousal, and she speculated how the prost.i.tute would taste. Her p.u.s.s.y spasmed at the thought, even as her stomach churned with disgust.

It was with some effort that she got to her feet and turned away from Nicholas to go to the nearest bathroom and wash her face. Emily looked at her reflection in the mirror as she turned on the faucet. The sight of the blood smeared across her pale skin should have disgusted her, but it didn't. Instead, she ran her tongue around her mouth, lapping away as much of the precious fluid as she could. She brought her hands to her face and rubbed at the bloodstains before taking them to her mouth to lick each clean, until she met her own eyes in the mirror. They burned bright-red, and it was enough to sicken her. She wrenched her gaze away and hurriedly washed her hands and face before returning to the living room.

Nicholas and the girl were gone. Brannon stood by the unlit fireplace, gazing into the bare grate.

"Where-" she started to ask.

"He's returning her to her manager," Brannon said with a hint of mocking. "She'll recover by tomorrow, although I doubt the man will be thrilled to give her the night off." He turned in her direction. "I'm glad you managed not to kill her."

She flinched, wondering if he meant her specifically. Did he know Nicholas had to wrench her away from the girl to get her to stop? She tilted her chin and strove for a cool tone, but her voice trembled. "I take it you don't approve." Instead of sounding like she didn't care, she sounded like she was begging for his understanding.

His brow quirked visibly behind the lens of his sungla.s.ses. "I'm fortunate I don't have to stay alive at the expense of others. But, no, I don't approve of murder. You'll find few who do, if they aren't vampires."

She sighed, not bothering to offer any justifications. What could she say, other than it was necessary for her to live? He must know that. Her pathetic argument would be unlikely to change his mind. In fact, he was liable to retort that she could choose death and save countless lives. There was no way to counter that, because it was the truth. She just wasn't n.o.ble or brave enough to make that choice.

As soon as the Mercedes topped the rise of a large hill and Vallsade Manor sprawled before them, Emily recognized it. She knew the layout of the structure, knew where to find the kitchens, and remembered how much she used to love spending time in the library in the tower, curled up in the window seat, immersed in her collection of books.

It was as though she had been inside the rectangular structure built from white stones just yesterday, she thought with awe. As they pa.s.sed through the gatehouse built into the curtain, not having to exit the car tolift the raised portcullis, she couldn't wait to explore the castle. She wanted to see if it was as she remembered it. How much had it changed in a little less than two centuries?

In the courtyard, Nicholas parked the car. Emily didn't wait for them to get out as she opened the door and slid from the backseat. She rushed to the tall doors barring entrance and touched them. Surely, Nicholas had replaced the weathered wood since Erin's lifetime, but it felt just as she remembered it. As he neared, bearing a heavy key to fit in the old lock, she couldn't hide her excitement. "I remember this place."

His eyes widened. "You remember the keep?"

She nodded. "Oh, yes. I remember everything about the castle-how we used to take horses from the stable in the middle of the night and ride recklessly." She grinned at him, remembering the wild sensations those adventures stirred in her. "I remember how those rides often ended."

He looked uncomfortable as he slipped the bra.s.s key in the lock and turned it with a protesting click. "I guess the caretaker's been using the small door in the kitchens, behind the castle. This lock needs oiling."

She touched his hand, getting him to look up again. "Do you remember renewing our vows in the chapel after we settled here at Vallsade Manor? I wanted to make sure G.o.d would recognize our union. I didn't know how he would feel about us being married outdoors without witnesses."

"I remember," he said gruffly. "Erin was always worrying about what G.o.d thought." He met her eyes.

"But you aren't Erin, and the chapel isn't here any longer. I had it torn down decades ago."

She flinched at his words, not realizing until he spoke how easily she had slipped into "I" when referring to the memories circulating through her brain. "But-"

"Come on. I want to check the furnace before we get settled for the night." He turned away and pushed against the doors. They resisted with a squeal, and the muscles in his arms corded when he shoved them open with an extra spurt of strength.

Emily hung her head, hiding her tears, jumping when she felt a hand on her arm. She looked up to find compa.s.sion in Brannon's expression.

"A lot of memories haunt this place," he said softly, as Nicholas entered the keep without them. "I don't think he means to hurt you."

"It's more than that." She cast a glance at Nicholas's departing back as the doors started to close. "I think he hates me."

He shook his head. "He doesn't hate you. He's having trouble coping with his emotions-"

"Are you two coming?" he bellowed from inside the castle.

Emily sighed. "Why is he pushing me away? I thought he loved me."

Brannon pushed open a door and indicated she should precede him. As she slipped past him, he whispered, "How can you doubt he loves you? He's looked for you for eight hundred years."