Ysa nodded.

"But... are you sure you want this, my love? To be with a monster such as I have become?"

Her fingers lightly traced the ma.s.sive muscles of his chest. "You are not a monster, Vitale." The corners of her lips drooped slightly. "I only wish..." She shook her head.

"What?"

"It is nothing. Really." She flashed a winsome smile, but Vitale wasn't fooled.

"It is something. Tell me."

Ysa sighed. "It is just... tonight has been magnificent, truly, but... I wish that I could hear your heart beating. Have flesh, warm and soft, next to mine. Feel your --" Her cheeks flushed, and her breathing quickened. "Your seed, warm and wet inside me."

Vitale captured her hand in his. "It can be, Ysa."

Her eyes opened wide. "How?"

"I need only a gift to become flesh again. But it is... it is too much to ask."

Ysa sat up, leaning over him eagerly, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s gleaming in the moonlight. "What, Vitale?"

"It is barbaric." The thought of drinking her blood turned his stomach, and yet it was the only way for them to be together in flesh again. And it would bind them, bind them forever. He could hardly contain his eagerness, and yet he did not want to influence her. It must be her choice.

"Vitale." Ysa brushed a hand over his brow. "I want to be able to run my fingers through your hair." She reached down and stroked the prominence trapped between them, giggling. "And while it is quite exciting to see you so ready all the time, I want to be able to hold you in my hand. To feel you lengthen and swell." She leaned close, her lips a hairsbreadth from his. "To take you in my mouth and --"

Vitale stared into her eyes, dreading what she might think of his request. "Then I must drink your blood."

She jerked slightly. "My blood?"

Vitale sighed. "Yes. To be flesh again, I must drink blood. And it must be done every night, from that moment on, because if we are ever separated for more than a day and a night, we both die. The blood will bind us." He hoped he had not overstepped his bounds. The G.o.ddess never said he could not tell Ysa what was required, only that she could not know the binding would keep her young and beautiful and virtually immortal.

He expected her to be horrified, to scramble away and demand to be taken back to Pan. Instead, she ran her fingers down his arm and clasped his hand. Drawing it up, she kissed the knuckles, then grasped one of his fingers. Before he could react, she had drawn the tip of his claw across her left breast.

They gasped together, Vitale out of shock, but Ysa's eyes glittered with antic.i.p.ation. "Drink me." She lifted his hand, and blood welled. "Drink me, my love."

Quicker than thought, his tongue darted out. He gasped when he saw its length, its forked end. A tongue like a demon! He drew it back urgently. He had not consciously thought about it when they were kissing. Hadn't realized it was different. Abominable.

"Vitale?"

"It is... it is a demon's tongue!" He couldn't keep the self-loathing from his voice.

Ysa shook her head. "No, it is a Guardian's tongue." She leaned over him, licking her lips. "Long." She clasped her breast, squeezing gently near the wound, causing blood to well and trickle down, landing on the corner of his mouth. "Interesting." She put her finger in the blood, then drew it along his bottom lip. "I like it."

Groaning, Vitale clasped her shoulders. His tongue darted out, lapping at the dark liquid. Warmth shuddered through him. He pulled her closer, covering the wound with his mouth.

His tongue flicked across the tender slit, gently at first, then more and more roughly as a desperate heat filled him. He drank her lifeblood, thick and sweet as nectar, full of the promise of green and growing things. Ysa writhed and trembled, her eyes glazing with desire. "Yes, Vitale. Yes."

His body tingled from the surface of each hair shaft to the tips of the talons at his feet, and yet he knew it was not enough. He sucked desperately, working his mouth, and felt the tip of one pointed tooth slip inside the shallow depression.

Without a moment's hesitation, he jerked his head slightly. The skin parted further, and blood poured into his mouth.

"Oh yes. Yes!" Ysa swung her leg over him, grinding against his side, painting him with her thick juices. Her hand found his c.o.c.k -- clutching, stroking. Tendrils of fire swirled and undulated in his belly, then exploded outward. Vitale arched and roared. Ysa straddled him, forcing his c.o.c.k deep inside her as he continued screaming voicelessly, consumed by pain and fire.

"Vitale!" She jerked convulsively, her p.u.s.s.y squeezing tight.

And then, he could feel again. His flesh soft against hers. His c.o.c.k pulsing, hot and ready, inside her. His hair tickling his brow, caught by an errant gust of wind. Her fingers digging into hisflesh where she clutched him. Her p.u.s.s.y, warm and wet.

They looked at each other and laughed in delight, then Ysa's gaze darkened, and she rose up on her knees. She rocked her hips, driving him deeper and deeper, never looking away. He drowned in the rich mola.s.ses of her eyes, the warm honey of her body. He shuddered, and she smiled knowingly, moving faster, letting just the tips of her swollen nipples brush across his chest.

"Oh, G.o.ddess." Both their eyes widened as his c.o.c.k throbbed inside her. "Oh, G.o.ddess!"

His b.u.t.tocks clenched. He roared, pouring his seed into the warm, wet folds that milked him. Ysa laughed and cried at the same time, her eyes closed as she arched in ecstasy, whispering, "Yes, yes, my love."

It seemed like an eternity before he could lie beside her, her head cradled in his arm, staring up at the stars. "Oh, Vitale," she sighed. "Why did you make us wait?"

A moment's sadness clutched at him, but then it was washed away by the reality of having her in his arms, of knowing she loved him and they would be together now, forever. He chuckled and hugged her tight. "I don't know." He turned and looked at her, letting desire flood him, knowing she would see it in his eyes. "But I'll make it up to you. I promise."

Ysa pulled him to her, kissing him long and hard. Then she pushed away and sighed again. "Oh, I don't want to go."

Vitale ran his fingers through her silken hair. "I know, but you must."

"I understand that. I just don't like it." She reached up, brushing a wayward lock of dark hair from his eyes. "I waited so long for you, it's... it's like a dream. I'm afraid I'm going to wake up, and none of this will be real." She didn't say it, but Vitale could see it in her eyes -- that sense of foreboding that she'd mentioned so long ago, that day in the barn.

"It's all right, my love. We will be together. Soon."

He kissed her softly, then slipped his arm from beneath her shoulders and stood. "But I must take you back now."

She nodded. He helped her stand and watched as she straightened her skirts and blouse. They shared a startled glance when they saw that the wound had drawn together, closing itself, leaving only a pink, puckered line across her breast. Still, she drew the string at her neck into a tight bow so that her bodice hid the mark. "I'm ready."

Vitale swept her into his arms and kissed her again. "I love you."

She nestled against him. "I love you, too."

The Guardian launched himself into the sky.

Chapter 15: Becoming a Master.

Pan stumbled and flung out a hand to catch himself on a rough wooden wall. His head reeled. He put a hand to his forehead and moaned. He shouldn't have guzzled so much ale.

A pebble tumbled and he whirled, then leaned back against damp wood again as the world spun around him. "Whosh that?" he mumbled.

"Tsk, tsk." Diamante moved toward him in a swirl of sapphire blue skirts. "How primitive, Pan." She shook her head, her gaze raking him up and down. "Not what I expected of you."

Pan gestured angrily. "What do you know? You've never had your heart ripped out and stomped on, never --" His eyes widened as Diamante pressed against him.

She smiled, revealing a mouth full of jagged teeth and a red, forked tongue swaying like a snake. "Actually, Ihave had my heart ripped out. Literally." Her eyes blazed red, and Pan drew back, whimpering.

"Oh, please." Diamante stepped back, settling her skirts with dainty hands. "One of the things I like most about you is that you never act frightened of me. Don't disappoint me now."

Pan straightened his back and pushed away from the wall, his expression insolent, his renewed bravado spoiled only slightly by the fact that he swayed a bit on his feet. "Whad'dya want, Abaddon?"

Dia's gaze narrowed. "Oh, weare getting brave, aren't we? Calling me by my true name?" The muscles in her jaw tightened. "Very well, let's get on with it. You have agreed to become my servant. In return, I will impart certain..." She smiled, and far from making Pan happy, he felt a distinct urge to run like a rat and hide in the deepest, smallest hole he could find. "Let us say gifts." She licked her lips. "But in order to do that, Pan, I must taste you."

Pan c.o.c.ked his head, trying to see past the fog that seemed to have enveloped his eyes as well as his mind. "Taste me?"

"Yes. We must... share fluids."

Pan laughed, letting his gaze glide over her body. "But we've already done that. Many times."

Dia's eyes blazed. "Not like this." She stepped forward, and before Pan could react, she grabbed his hair, pulling his head back and to the side, exposing his neck. Her glance flicked to his face, locked on his eyes as she opened her mouth, full of sharp, jagged teeth, too many teeth, and pierced the frantic, throbbing pulse at his neck.

He opened his mouth to scream, but he couldn't. Dia's gaze seemed to reach inside him and tighten the muscles in his throat, holding back air, sound.

He whimpered inside, sickened by the sucking, slurping noise of her feeding, his gorge rising.

"I must drink nearly all of it." Pan jerked as her voice spoke in his head. "And then I will fill you with a portion of my own essence."

Her throat worked, drinking him down, drinking his life. Pan watched with a growing sense of detachment, the scent of sulfur and dank caverns filling his lungs. His head seemed to float above them. To his surprise, the pain lessened, and sharp, shimmering bursts of pleasure lanced through his groin. His c.o.c.k stiffened.

Diamante drew back, laughing throatily. "Oh, Pan. You do delight me!" The wounds on his neck stung with breathtaking intensity as she ran her tongue across them in slow, savory strokes. "You will be immortal, Pan. And you will be able to make others immortal. You will be master of them all, and you will bring them to my cause."

A gray haze encroached upon his vision, yet the promise of power sent a thrill through him. "Master?"

"Of course, we both know who the true master is, don't we, Pan?"

"Yes, Diavolo." Pan struggled to speak above a whisper. "I will be your servant in all things." He shivered, felt himself begin to slide down the wall as his legs gave way.

Dia grasped him by the throat, holding him up, smiling when he grimaced in pain as her nails dug into the wound. "You will be something new, Pan. A new type of demon, deadly as ever, and yet beautiful to look upon. They will flock to you, Pan, and beg you to take them."

Ambition pushed aside the fog. Pan squared his shoulders, locking his knees, forcing his legs to take his weight. "Yes," he whispered gruffly.

"And you will do it. For me. For us. In time, you will rule Hades at my right hand."

Pan shivered, his head throbbing, eyes burning as though with fever. Her mind slipped and slithered among his thoughts. Raped him, dredging the mora.s.s of dark, dangerous images that simmered just beneath the surface and exposing them to her black regard. His body burned with the need to bring each one to life. "Yes, Pan. You will have them. All your hidden desires."

Drawing in a raspy breath, he pressed against her. "Master! Whatever you ask is yours!"

Dia dropped her hand to the stiff shaft pressed between them. Pan shivered in fear and ecstasy. She smiled, and he did scream this time, as her teeth plunged into his neck again and her fingers stroked and stroked him, heat and power piercing his flesh, flowing through the wound. His mind, body, and soul burst free of the confining strictures of skin and bone and he felt himself floating above the earth. A thundercloud of dark promise and wild potential, he shuddered again and again as his manhood exploded and the devil's own power poured into him.

Chapter 16: A Lover's Offer.

Pan stared at himself in the mirror -- or rather, stared at the void in the mirror where his image should be. Trailing a finger along his neck, he marveled at the skin's smooth integrity -- healed completely in just a few short moments after Dia's feeding. Smiling, he ran a tongue over the points of two newly elongated, newly sharp fangs. Puny versions of the myriad, jagged teeth Dia had used to transform him, but still they would suffice. He wished that he could see them. He shrugged. No matter.

Turning, he stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at Ysa. She slumbered deeply, the corners of her mouth turned up in a soft smile. He could smell s.e.x on her, rich and fecund. Snarling, he crawled onto the bed, pushing her skirts above her waist.

He parted her thighs. Her dark cavern glistened, the red lips swollen and inviting to eyes no longer rendered blind by darkness. He smiled. Diamante had explained many things to him, after his mind and body had returned to their fleshly bounds. He could see in the dark now. Could change form -- a bat, a mist. Reach into others' minds and influence their thinking. Despite the revelation of fantastic powers, he'd felt, achingly, as though something precious had been stolen from him, but now that feeling had faded to a ghostly remembrance. He would dwell on that no longer. He would ponder only on what he had gained.

He stroked Ysa's thigh. She sighed in her sleep. Leaning forward, he drew his tongue along her wet slit, tasting her, tasting the essence of whomever she had turned to for comfort in his absence.

The flavor, the scent, flowed through him. He shuddered, burying his tongue deeper, lapping up the remnants of a stranger's seed as his c.o.c.k quivered.

"Mmm. Vitale."

Pan froze. He drew back, then leaned over her. "What did you say?"

Ysa's eyelids flew open. "Pan!" He grabbed her shoulders, pressing her roughly into the bed when she would have rolled away.

"Who took you tonight?" he growled. "Who?"

Ysa smiled. "Vitale did, Pandolfo. He came to me. He has forgiven me, and we are going to be together."

He watched her stiffen, saw her realize what she had said and steel herself for an angry reaction. Instead, he let her go. Sitting on the edge of the bed, centered in a pale shaft of moonlight, he stared down at her. "Oh? I'm glad, Ysa." Inside, anger laced with fear pierced his belly. Fear of losing her after all he'd done to help her, to keep her. But his mind remained amazingly clear, calculating, and it took hardly any effort to imbue his voice with warmth and pleasure.

"R-really?" She watched him with guarded eyes, her expression as clear to his new sight as it would be in broad daylight. "I-I thought you'd be angry."

Pan shrugged. "I want you to be happy, Ysa."

She squirmed into a sitting position, drawing up her legs, smoothing her skirts down over her knees. c.o.c.king her head, she stared at him suspiciously.

"Truly." Pan focused on her eyes, reaching out tentatively with his mind, urging her to believe his sincerity. Inside, he seethed at the thought that a woman like Ysa -- so wild, so beautiful -- could prefer his timid cousin over him, but he pushed that aside, allowing a sense of calm to pervade him, to seep into Ysa through their locked gazes.

He felt something...shift inside her. She relaxed, her features softening, offering him a hesitant smile. "Tell me what happened," he murmured.

Breathless as a child, she related everything. A burning like acid settled in his gut when she spoke of Vitale's love, his touch. Still, he schooled himself to silence, listening carefully, and from her narrative extracted the seed of an idea. The beginnings of a plan adhered to this kernel, growing like a pearl, until her story was finished and he knew exactly how he could make her his.

He rearranged his features carefully, radiating a subdued happiness tinged with regret, spiked with a bit of concern. Oh, it was marvelous, this increased awareness of his body, the ability to control every muscle, every fiber, minutely and precisely. The way he could make her believe he cared only for her joy. "So you will have everything you have wanted from the very beginning." He smiled, just a bit at the corners, but Ysa focused on the tone of doubt, as he had known she would.

"I think so, but... you don't. Why?"

Pan shrugged, arising and walking to stare out the window at the graying horizon. "If he really is a guardian of some sort, does that mean he will be away from you often?"

He turned back, masking his features with sympathy. "It will be hard on you. To be alone during the day, to only see him at night. And then, if he has a task..." He spread his hands in silent question, letting his voice trail away.

Ysa frowned. "I'll manage." Nervous fingers plucked at her skirt. "It will be lonely, at first, but I'll make friends. Perhaps I'll weave, and sell my rugs and blankets in the market, to pa.s.s the time."

"People will think it strange, a woman as beautiful as you are, living without a man." He had always been able to appeal to her vanity.