He shook his head. "You never made it downstairs, Carrie. I found you in the alley."

The alley. I remembered the sky, that it had been almost dawn and I couldn't move. "Did I burn?"

"No." Gently, he removed the needle and recapped it. Although I'd already lectured Nathan about this, I didn't bother correcting him.

I'm a completely different person.

A pang of sadness brought tears to my eyes, and Nathan looked up sharply. "What's the matter?"

And then he shrugged, as if answering a question I hadn't voiced. "I think I've been cooped up with you too long if I'm starting to read your mind."

The lighthearted comment brought echoes of something to the surface of my consciousness. A medicated haze settled over me, and my words slurred as I spoke. "You should get some sleep. You don't look too good."

His hand was cold against my forehead. "Likewise, sweetheart."

I'd been dead. That was the important detail I needed to remember. I'd been dead, and he'd been there.

But I drifted off again, and it was two more days before I woke.

Nathan lay on his side next to me, curved protectively around my body. If I turned my face, I could snuggle against him, listen to his heart beat. It felt so comforting to have him there. His hand stroked my hair, and I opened my eyes.

The gauze around my chest had been replaced by a navy-blue T-shirt that had seen better days. There was blood on it, and vomit.

"You had a bad, bad reaction to the morphine. I'd been giving you the meperidine, since you'd had it before with no trouble, but I ran out."

His voice was hoarse. He still hadn't slept.

"Well, reaction or not, it must be working okay. I don't feel a thing." The pain of my injuries was a distant nightmare, and only the lingering stiffness of a long bed rest plagued my bones.

He chuckled softly as he slowly sat up. "You're probably healed by now."

Like flashbulbs going off, I saw Cyrus looming over me, blood on his hands. My chest split open like a cadaver for dissection.

Nathan's stricken face when he found me in the alley.

One of the first things Nathan had explained to me about the Voluntary Vampire Extinction Movement was that they expressly forbid medical treatment for life-threatening injuries. I was dead when he found me. And here I sat. "You broke the rules."

His back went straight at my accusation. "Yeah, I guess I did."

I scooted up, wincing at the soreness in my unused muscles. I propped a few pillows behind me and drew the covers to my neck.

"Why?"

I had a suspicion he rummaged a bit too long in the dresser for another T-shirt so he could think of an excuse. "I like to live dangerously?"

Of all the vampires I'd met so far, Nathan was the most serious, the biggest stickler for the rules. In the two weeks I'd been deciding whether or not to join the Movement, he'd called nearly every night with some new bit of information I'd never use, but that he felt was vitally important for me to know. He'd held Ziggy, the person who'd mattered most in his life, and watched him die when he could have easily turned him and spared himself the pain of loss. But he hadn't, because of his affiliation with the Movement.

Yet, he'd saved me.

"Why?" I asked again.

When he looked at me, his expression was somber. "I can't explain it."

"Let me know when you can." I made a move to get out of bed, but Nathan gruffly pulled the covers back over me.

"You need rest."

"I've had plenty of rest. I want to get up." I tried again, and he gripped my arms.

"Will you just listen to me and lie back down?" With a frustrated curse he handed me a clean T-shirt and turned his back.

"Something on your mind, Nathan?" I quickly slipped out of the soiled shirt and into the fresh one, pausing at the sight of the bumpy scar that bisected my chest.His shoulders sagged with exhaustion. "This isn't the first time I've gone against the Movement. I'm on probation as it is."

I arranged the sheets around my bare lower half. "You can turn around now."

When he did, I saw him eye the scrap of bare leg that peeked out from beneath the covers. He quickly averted his gaze.

"Are you sorry?" What would I do if he said yes?

Nathan didn't answer immediately. "Carrie, when I found you, my only thought was to stay with you until you died. But it took so long. Just when I thought you'd actually...you'd pull right back. Honestly, I've never seen anyone fight so hard. But the damage was too much. There was no way you could have healed yourself. Not as new as you are." He sat on the bed, facing me.

"Did you look at the scar?" He touched the front of my shirt, just below my collarbone, and a jolt went through me.

"Yes." I couldn't manage more than a whisper.

He closed his eyes and didn't remove his hand. "He cut you from here-" His fingers slipped down, passing between my breasts and coming to rest on the hollow of my rib cage. He opened his hand and rested his palm against my stomach for a moment before tracing back to my neck. "To here. But it wasn't just a cut, it was like-"

"How a book opens?" I knew what it must have looked like to someone not used to such a sight. "You can pry the ribs apart pretty wide. But I'm in one piece now."

"I helped you along." He smiled and pointed to the nightstand where a stack of surgical texts rested. "Like I said, you're too new to heal something that serious."

"Nathan, how on earth-"

"If I told you, you probably wouldn't want to know. I didn't exactly have high-tech surgical instruments here." He motioned to the folding table, where the handles of rusty pliers jutted out from the first aid kit.

My stomach churned, but it could have been leftover nausea from the morphine. "Humor me."

"I used wire to hold your...sternum?"

I nodded at the correct terminology and let him continue.

"To hold it together." He looked away. "I had to wrap it around and around. I wouldn't go through any metal detectors, if I were you."

Wanting very much to change the subject, I cleared my throat. "Well, thanks for the advice. But if I couldn't heal the damage myself, why am I better now?"

He squinted at me. "You really don't remember that night?"

"No. I know exactly what happened. I just want to hear it from your point of view. You know, just to waste time." I leaned back against the pillows. "If there's something you need to tell me, I think you should just say it."

"You'd lost too much blood. Even if you had been conscious enough to feed, it would have just run straight through you. And you did die, Carrie." He sighed in frustration. "If I had known what would happen...."

My pulse throbbed in my ears. But more disturbingly, I could hear his, as if I had a stethoscope against his chest. "Nathan, what did you do?" He looked me straight in the eye, and heat flashed through my body.

"I revived you the only way I knew how. I gave you my blood."

"What does that mean?"

"At first, nothing. I was desperate, Carrie. I thought my blood might speed your healing, that's all. Then, when I'd touch you to change your bandages, I started to see things, your memories. That's how I knew." He took a deep breath. "When you first became a vampire, you ingested some of Cyrus's blood. Your heart must have stopped at some point-"

"After one of my surgeries."

"That's when you became a vampire. When I gave you my blood, your heart-" He looked away and cleared his throat. "You were already gone, but that didn't seem to make a difference. The process repeated, as if you'd never been a vampire in the first place. I think I'm your sire now."

My mouth went dry, and for the first time in my life, I was rendered speechless. But not for lack of trying. I had plenty to say, but too many thoughts whirled through my head. One was relief that Cyrus's blood no longer pumped through my veins. But that wasn't much of a comfort when, a second later, I remembered I knew just as little about Nathan as ever. And even he didn't have a very high opinion of himself.

Of course, I knew it wasn't in Nathan's character to play the manipulative games Cyrus seemed to live for. But there had been attraction between us since the night we'd met.

That time seemed far away, and Nathan had almost become a complete stranger. He'd been guarded then, but I'd been able to glimpse the real Nathan at times.

But now he was my sire.

"I don't understand." My throat felt as if I'd just crossed a desert without a single drop of water. "Cyrus flatlined in the E.R. How did he survive without being re-sired?"

Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger and closed his eyes. "Depending on our age and power, we can be dead for several hours while we heal, as long as our heart stays intact." He stumbled over the words, then cleared his throat. "If you were as old as he is, you'd have been able to survive on your own without a problem."

"So that's it, then?" I took a deep breath, my chest tight and achy. "You're my sire?" My tears were so sudden I didn't have time to hold them back.

Unfortunately, Nathan, not having been privy to the inner dialogue preceding them, misinterpreted my hysterical sobs. He swore and stood, and before I could stop him, he charged out of the room.

I threw back the covers and followed him, grateful for the length of the T-shirt. The hardwood floor of the hallway was cold, so I tried to tiptoe across. After two weeks of barely moving them, my legs had a hard time keeping up. I tripped over my own feet and crashed into the wall.

Nathan was at my side in two seconds, his face filled with anger and annoyance. "I told you to stay in bed!"

He scooped me up, cradling me roughly against his chest. He dropped me onto the bed a little less gently than I'd expect someone to treat a person who'd been practically dissected, then headed for the door again.

"Wait a goddamned minute!" I didn't sound as stern as I'd intended, partly because my face was buried in the pillow. I pushed up on my elbows to glare at him. "You're not going to do this, Nathan. You're just not!"

He met my furious expression with one of his own. "Do what?" "Walk out!" I struggled to climb to my knees without exposing too much of myself. "You can't just go, 'Oh, by the way, I'm your sire, and hey, lucky you, I'm all dark and moody and too wrapped up in my own stuff to worry about your feelings!' It's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair, sweetheart. I'm real sorry if it hurts your feelings, but I don't want to stand here and listen to you work through your issues." He took a step toward the door.

"You don't even know what my issues are!" Regardless of the fact I knew he'd just put me right back, I got out of bed and followed him.

"Oh, I think I can guess," he said as he stormed into the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator.

"Can you?" I watched him for a moment as he tried to remove the cap from a beer bottle. After he made several unsuccessful attempts to twist it off, I angrily snatched the bottle from him. "Well you're one up on me, then. Because I have absolutely no idea what your problem is."

I searched the silverware drawer. "Where the hell is your bottle opener?"

"Right here," he said, transforming his face. He yanked the bottle from me and punctured the bottle top with one of his fangs, wrenching it off and spitting the metal into the sink as his features returned to normal.

"I can't believe I'm tied to you on a cellular level now."

The comment only served to irk him more. "I'm sorry I'm not more cultured. I'll watch PBS. And cut people open for fun. Will that be better? Will you be less embarrassed to be my fledgling then?"

I probably could have cleared up the misunderstanding right then, but his whole attitude bothered me. I called him something very uncomplimentary and stomped into the bedroom. I started pulling out clothes and flinging them onto the bed.

Nathan followed me. "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting dressed. I'm going out."

"The hell you are!" His hand closed over my arm, and I yanked it away.

"Excuse me, I'm not your prisoner. You can't bully me into staying." I was so mad that my whole body shook. I found it very difficult to keep my human face on.

"Fine. Go out there and get yourself killed. This time, I'm not going to stick my neck out to help you." His Adam's apple twitched as he swallowed. The look in his eyes was so intense that it burned mine.

My heart pounding, I took a step backward. At the same time, he moved forward. The backs of my knees hit the bed, but he kept advancing. I slapped my hands against his chest to push him back, and he grabbed my wrists.

The surge of emotions that shot through the blood tie was astounding. There was no anger. Only incredible fear. Fear that I would leave, fear that I'd get killed, or worse, go back to Cyrus.

Even scarier was the naked desire that flared between Nathan and myself.

I knew I could fight it. At least, for a little while. I'd resisted Cyrus long enough. But I'd wanted Nathan before we'd shared blood, and my raging hormones wouldn't take no for an answer.

Neither would his, apparently. He jerked me forward, covering my mouth in a smothering kiss.

Though it wasn't tender, his kiss didn't set me on edge the way Cyrus's had. I didn't have to brace myself for a slap, or flinch from Nathan's touch.

He heard my thought, and annoyed hurt vibrated through the tie. His hands left my wrists and his arms wrapped around my waist, crushing me against him as his tongue slipped over my lower lip.

Trust me. His thought whispered through my head. But he didn't trust himself. I felt him attempt to block off his emotions, to feel nothing for me beyond physical desire. I sensed confusion in him when it proved impossible.

Then it hit me. I'm his first fledgling.

He couldn't help his urge to protect me, or his need to be close to me. That loss of control was what scared him most.

As if to prove he was still strong, still in control, he cupped my buttocks and pulled my hips forward against the bulge of his erection.

The giggling teenage girl part of me noted my new sire came with a serious upgrade.

Nathan heard the thought. I felt his lips curve into a smile against mine.

This is how it's supposed to be. Our blood tie wasn't evil. It wasn't a burden or something I had to guard myself against. The blood tie is a powerful bond, and it had been corrupted and abused by my previous sire.

I had been corrupted and abused by him. Nathan's blood in my veins and his hands on my skin eased the pain I'd felt since Cyrus had been my sire.

Nathan needed this, too, if only for the distraction. All of his thoughts were tainted by a sense of urgency. What could he focus on in the moment to keep the unfortunate realities of his past from intruding on the present? It made my head spin. I couldn't imagine living like that every second of every day of my life.