To see Gabrielle, now, as she turned to Meghan, was all at once thrilling and frightening, as it had been months earlier. Because Gabrielle was the last link to Erik's past. Because she didn't give a d.a.m.n that she was. And Erik couldn't let her know that he cared so much about both things.

"What do you want?"

Straight to business, then. Gabrielle was so caught up in Meghan that she didn't seem to have noticed Erik yet, even though he was only a few feet behind her. What was in her mind, to preoccupy her so?

Erik didn't need to see Meghan's lips to know what she was saying. All he needed was to watch Gabrielle's features slowly close in pain, until her eyes and fists were tightly shut. Erik had done the same, at first, had refused to hear it, so he understood Gabrielle's reaction all too well. And this was his cue to intervene. He had told the girl he would help her get Gabrielle's attention. Just her attention, nothing more.

So, he pressed his horse up next to Meghan's, and tried to sound as normal as he possibly could when he said: "How 'bout you listen to what the child has to say before you take a nap?"

Gabrielle's eyes shot wide open, instantly looking for Erik. Surprised, obviously, to see her Childe there.

But Erik couldn't see anything more than surprise-no pleasure, no annoyance either-before a light blow to his shoulder brought his attention to Meghan.

"I'm not a child, old man," she protested with a lopsided grin.

He returned the smile, a retort already forming on his lips. After the initial fighting and tying up stage, he had come to appreciate the young woman's dry humor and realist take on life. She knew she'd never know anything other than this h.e.l.lish world. She knew that, even if Erik's little trip through time fixed things, she wouldn't benefit from it at all. But she nonetheless played her part in the grand scheme of the world and did her best to help her fellow humans.

Movement on the edge of his vision drew Erik's attention back to Gabrielle in time to see her turning her horse and riding away. He frowned at that. He had expected many reactions from Gabrielle, but not this one. His eyes returned to Meghan, and he wondered what she would make of this. She had jokingly suggested that they bring rope with them. Maybe they should have.

"...don't care," she was saying. "You turn the world into h.e.l.l, you cause the death of almost every single member of your clan and-"

Erik interrupted her with a growl. "I warned you. Do not bring them into this."

Using that specific guilt wasn't playing fair, he had told her that before, and he was p.i.s.sed off that she hadn't listened.

"And what do you suggest I do?" she shot back. The grin was gone, now, and her eyes were throwing daggers at him. Another thing that amused him in her, her major mood-swings without warning. It reminded him of another woman, long dead that one.

"Already told you. Tell her the facts. No need to embellish or make it hurt, there's plenty of that coming anyway." "She would need to actually listen for me to be able to do that! What am I supposed to do when she refuses..."

These few words. .h.i.t too close to home, and Erik turned his back on her, quite effectively shutting her out. She hated when he did that, and he knew it, but sometimes it was the only option she left him.

He understood, all too well, how frustrated she had to be. After all, he had been in her place, trying to talk some sense into his Sire, trying to make her see reason when he was convinced with every fiber of his being that she was wrong, that it was too dangerous to awaken ancient forces that had been dormant for ages and whose behavior was unpredictable. He had suggested that they arm the villages under their protection and teach the humans how to fight the demons that were increasingly aggressive and daring.

He had even offered to do the teaching, with three more of Gabrielle's Childer who were receptive to his ideas. But Gabrielle had been completely inflexible, and had refused to even listen to his suggestions.

If he had made them before she had chased him out of her bed, he was sure she would have let him do as he pleased, and it made her refusal to listen even more difficult to accept. Had she not demanded his presence on the day of the battle, he might have left the lair with his lover days before it had happened.

He disagreed with his Sire too much to continue living under her rule, and he had decided, even though it tore him apart, to ask Gabrielle's blessing in becoming a Master himself. It was tradition for a Sire to symbolically free his or her Childer when they matured enough to have a lair and Childer of their own.

While he knew all that, Erik had for a long time been sure that he would remain by his Sire's side forever; she had put an end to his unvoiced dream rather abruptly.

Even now, he still didn't know what he could possibly have done to offend her, and it still hurt as much as it had that first night, when he had returned from a fight to discover his Sire had taken someone else to her bed. To what he had thought was their bed. The shock had left him numb, even more so for the fact that he hadn't expected it. Only the previous night, she had been both tender and pa.s.sionate in his arms, as much as she had ever been. The change had simply been unexplainable.

When she had made her first Childe after him, Erik had been worried to lose his place as favored Childe, but when after ten more of them he had still remained her favorite, he had figured out that his place in her bed and at her side was secure. The awakening had been painful, and even Catarina, as delightful as she had been, had never completely healed this wound.

Chapter 11.

+ Two hundred years earlier Since the night he had awakened a vampire, Erik had fed after his Sire, always waiting for her to be done before he took his own share of the blood offerings. She had never requested it from him, never encouraged or discouraged him either way, but it had simply been one of the many ways he told her each day that she mattered more to him than anything else in the world.

Even now, more than a year after she had cast him aside, he continued to show respect to her that way.

He doubted she was even aware of it, but it mattered to him to keep on with his decades-old tradition.

Every day, villagers came from the almost two dozens villages that had formed a Pact with Gabrielle and her clan. Those coming from the nearest village came by foot; the ones who came from farther away, by horse. They arrived at the lair from the middle of the morning to the middle of the afternoon, and offeredtheir wrists and blood to whatever vampire wanted it. Only a few mouthfuls, not enough to hurt the human but sufficient to satisfy a vampire's hunger when combined with the demon blood they drank every so often. Fledglings had to be monitored, they often had trouble stopping once they started feeding, but as a whole it was a simple matter, and although accidental deaths were an unfortunate part of the Pact that humans were supposed to accept, no one who had come to bring a blood offering had ever died in Gabrielle's lair. She had always made it clear, to every one of her Childer, that she would not tolerate mishaps.

Aside from Erik's personal choice to only feed after his Sire, there was no set rule as to the order in which the members of the clan fed. Whoever was awake when humans first arrived would feed then, and late risers would feed later on. Some of them had preferences, and would feed exclusively from men or women; others, usually the youngest ones, refused to feed from people who had come from the village they had lived in as humans. And then, some vampires developed affinities with particular humans, so that whenever it was that human's turn to give an offering for a village, other vampires would know to leave the human alone. s.e.xual encounters between vampires and humans were not unheard of, but since villages rotated their gift bearers and few humans came to the lair more often than once every two or three months, affairs were usually brief and quickly forgotten.

From where he lounged in an armchair in the common room, Erik was watching Gabrielle. She had come out of her room a few minutes earlier, and examined the handful of waiting humans before making her choice. She was feeding from a young man who couldn't have been more than the fifteen years required for gift bearers; Erik couldn't remember having ever seen the child before. It would be an honor for him to go back to his village and announce that he had been chosen by Mistress Gabrielle herself on his first trip to the lair. Erik wondered if the child would also brag about coming in his breeches at the touch of her mouth.

"She's finished," a soft woman's voice said next to him, startling Erik so that his gaze left Gabrielle as she retreated from the common room to her chambers. "Would you feed from me, now?"

Frowning, he looked at the young woman standing by his side; taller than most, she was dressed in finer robes than the usual gift bearers wore. A merchant's daughter, maybe. Her hair was woven in a long braid that she had pulled over her shoulder, and the red ribbon that held it together hung between her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She looked amused, for some reason, and her smile lit her whole face, putting a sparkle in her brown eyes.

Erik remembered Gabrielle looking at him in this exact same way, usually before pulling him into bed. He shifted uncomfortably on his chair, trying to conceal the way his c.o.c.k was filling with blood at the memory.

"You're the only one who ever waits for her to be done before you feed," the girl continued, now thoughtful. "Why is that?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," Erik grumbled as he sat up, hiding his shock that anyone, let alone a human who was only in the lair a few days a year, would have noticed his personal ritual.

"You are a liar," the girl informed him primly even as she extended her arm to him.

"And you are insolent," he replied coldly. "Show a little respect or you will be sent back without presenting your village's offering."

Her smile wavered, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. "I apologize," she murmured, clearlychastised.

Nodding absently, he motioned for her to sit down on the stool next to the armchair. She settled down and looked up at him again, her eyes almost hopeful when she presented her wrist to him once more. He took it gently in his hand and ran a thumb over the tanned skin. No merchant's daughter would work out in the sun as she clearly did.

"Whose dress did your borrow, child?" he asked, wanting to show her that he, too, could notice things.

She blushed brightly, but her voice was steady when she answered.

"A friend's."

Turning her wrist in his hand, he realized that it was clear of scars. It couldn't possibly be her first time offering blood, so she had to be giving him her unmarked arm on purpose.

"Why?"

Her blush only intensified as she misinterpreted his incomplete question. "Because I thought you might notice me if I looked prettier."

She finished in a rush, her voice no louder than a murmur, and Erik stopped himself before he could ask why she wasn't asking him to bite over the marks she already bore; she had just answered his question, if indirectly.

He didn't say another word before he gently sank his fangs into her flesh, but he held her eyes as he did so. It had been some time since anyone had shown a real interest in him, and he wanted to enjoy that feeling fully. The girl let out a small gasp as he bit, and she immediately caught her bottom lip between her teeth. He took her blood in long, slow sips, and he could feel her shudder with every one of them. He could have believed it was pain that made her tremble so, but the growing scent of arousal rising from her told another story altogether. Erik usually didn't play with humans like this, and did nothing more than feed from them. But this child had come for more, and it didn't hurt him to oblige. It didn't hurt her either, obviously.

Having taken enough of her blood, he started running his tongue over the wounds, closing them slowly.

All the while, he kept eye contact with her, and reveled in the effect he had on her. When he finally released her wrist after having placed a small kiss over the tender flesh, she was breathing hard and her cheeks were flushed again.

"Thank you, child," he said formally as was the custom, but she didn't reply as tradition demanded.

Instead, she shook her head.

"I am no child, Master Erik. And my name is Catarina."

Smiling bitterly, he reached for the end of her braid and tugged the ribbon loose.

"I am no Master, Catarina. Just Erik. And I think I shall keep this until we next meet."

She looked pleased at his words, and he only realized with her grin that he had all but promised to feed from her again the next time she would come.

"In seventy three days," she murmured as she stood and curtsied. "I will be counting." As he watched her leave, Erik played with the short ribbon in his hand, replaying the whole encounter in his mind. She was an interesting human, full of a fire that was almost familiar to him as it resembled Gabrielle's. It was with some surprise that he realized that he, too, would be counting the days until she returned.

It was only after their fourth meeting that he took her to bed; she had been hinting at it since their second encounter. He had been reluctant because he had no interest in satisfying a child's fantasy for an affair with a vampire, but she managed to show him that she saw more than fangs when she looked at him. He grew fond of her, very much so; she had wit, humor, and a bit of a temper that he didn't dislike. But even so, he wouldn't have made her his lover if she hadn't reminded him so much of Gabrielle. He never told her as much, and, after a few more months, his fondness started growing into more than that, until he asked her to move to the closest village so she could be near him. Already, deep down, he was thinking of making her his Childe. Maybe, then, she would completely erase his Sire in his heart. Maybe, then, he would stop hurting so much.

Chapter 12.

For a long moment, Erik relived his memories of happier times. Even after all these years, he still thought of Catarina very fondly; he was sure she would have made a beautiful, strong vampire, had she survived the battle. When finally a fleeting touch to his shoulder requested his attention, he gave it back without a second thought.

"What do we do, now?" Meghan asked, clearly calmer.

He shrugged, gave her a half smile. "Either forget about her completely and trust me to do the job by myself, or give her a little while to calm down and then go to her and try again. But in the end, all you can do is give her a choice. You can't force her hand. The more you push her, the more she'll resist. She was always like that."

Meghan looked uncomfortable suddenly, but before he could ask her what was wrong she said: "It's not about not trusting you, you know that, right? It's just so important..."

He nodded. "I know. No offense taken. But because it's so important, you can't decide for her, and it's not fair for you to make it hurt."

She shook her head, and he knew what she thought, for they had discussed the topic at length on their way to Gabrielle. Meghan was extremely critical of Gabrielle's decision to summon the Primal Forces without consulting other Masters or requesting the help of human warlocks more experienced with strong magic than her Childer had been. Traditionally, vampires stayed away from magic and left its art to humans; it was only one more of the rules Gabrielle had transgressed two centuries earlier. Erik had tried to explain Gabrielle's reasoning, even though he had disagreed with it himself, but he and Meghan had needed in the end to agree to disagree. This time though, judging by the slight shift in her shoulders, Meghan would follow his request and stop arguing.

"So, how do I find her?" she asked with a sigh.

He took her for a trek around the closest villages to give Gabrielle some time to go home and get a grip on herself. They found a couple of demons to kill, and Meghan looked, clearly caught between fascination and horror, as he fed from them. It wasn't the first time she'd seen him feed, but the act neverseemed to lose her interest. She had offered him her wrist, once; he had looked at the unblemished skin, and declined with a sad smile.

He eventually led her to Gabrielle's home in the woods and made Meghan promise that she would give her the facts, only the facts, and accept her answer whatever it would be.

"You're not staying with me?" she asked, surprised.

"No. I don't think my presence would help."

As a matter of fact, he was rather sure that his presence would cause Gabrielle to refuse to listen as she had earlier, but he was in no mood to explain all of it to the human.

He hesitated for a second before riding away, though. Something in him couldn't help wishing that maybe...

"If she asks where I am," he said quietly, refusing to meet Meghan's gaze, "tell her where to find me, would you?"

He noticed the tight pinch of her lips as she nodded, but she didn't comment. Giving her a nod of thanks, he turned his horse away and rode on, wondering what would happen, what Gabrielle would say in the end. He couldn't help hoping that his Sire would agree. As much as he wanted it, it was going to be difficult to see his clan and Catarina again and not do a thing to save them. Having someone to go through this with him would certainly help. But, as he had told Meghan, they couldn't force Gabrielle to do it. It was her choice. Just like it had been her choice to leave Erik alone in those ruins, her choice, again, to let him leave without a word a few months earlier.

Suddenly, the prospect of making that trip in time with a companion seemed very unlikely.

Gabrielle laughed, a deep, unrestrained laugh that rang straight to Erik's heart like the most melodious music. He had no clue why his Sire was laughing, but did it really matter?

Sliding his hands under her tunic, he pulled it up and off Gabrielle's shoulders, and took a second to let his eyes linger on the skin revealed to his gaze. Pale, smooth, but with faded, almost imperceptible scars that bore witness to centuries of fighting.

Pushing Gabrielle down on the bed, Erik straddled her thighs and began tracing with his tongue and lips the marks he could find on the quivering body under him. One day, he would ask her to tell him how she had acquired each and every one of these marks during the time they had spent apart. He had missed so much; he wished he could have erased those too-long years.

Unconsciously, he began rocking his hardening c.o.c.k against the apex of Gabrielle's legs, enjoying the friction provided by the double layer of clothing between them, prolonging the antic.i.p.ation of soon to come flesh to flesh. Gabrielle's hands were on his back, on his a.s.s, rubbing, kneading, sending delightful shivers through him. He couldn't remember the last time he had been touched like this, had felt this much.

Too long ago, certainly. Much too long.

His rediscovery of the gorgeous body underneath him had led him downward, and as he placed tiny licks along the edge of Gabrielle's breeches he could feel her squirming beneath him. As his Sire, she had always felt uncomfortable being under him in any way, but more often than not he had been able to makeher forget everything but her pleasure. He intended it to be the case this time too. A quick look up, a sugary word-"Please"-and Erik smiled to himself as he divested Gabrielle of what remained of her clothes. To have this strong, powerful woman at his mercy, trembling and pleading with need, was exhilarating, but not as delightful as that first broad swipe of his tongue against her folds. One hand resting on each of her thighs, he delved in deeper, encountering her wetness and humming in pleasure at the rediscovered taste. She was shivering under his touch, arching to urge him closer to her, and he complied easily, thrusting his tongue inside her as he longed to do with his c.o.c.k, as he would do after he had seen her come for him first.

When he had been sired, his amorous skills had been rather rudimentary, he could admit as much, but Gabrielle had taken that particular aspect of his education as seriously as she had all others. And Erik had quickly discovered that very few things were as thrilling as the power he could have on his Sire by taking her to the edge, and keeping her right there, ready and aching to come yet denied that last bit of pressure, that last touch that would bring it all to an end-for a time, at least.

Now though, Erik wasn't trying to make things last through delicious torture. Licking, sucking, delicately nibbling on her c.l.i.toris, he did his best to make his Sire come, fast and hard. He couldn't wait to taste her again, and he put that desire into each swirl of his tongue, each careful touch of his fingers on Gabrielle's skin.

He couldn't wait to make her come, and couldn't wait for everything else that would happen after she did.

It had been a long time since they had last been together, but he sincerely hoped that not everything had been lost through these centuries apart. They had both changed, of course, and it would be different, necessarily, but deep down, they were still Gabrielle and Erik, and some things had to have remained the same. At the very least, Erik knew what his own feelings were, knew that he had been too lonely for too long, knew that he craved to have in his life a woman to love and live with.

Knew, and had always known, that no one could ever replace Gabrielle in his heart.

The question was ... Would she want him? She had chased him away, so long before. Would she want him back? Or was she here, in his bed, in his arms, simply for a moment, simply for the pleasure he could offer her?

If anything, the thought increased his desire to pleasure her even more. Sliding a hand off her thigh, he thrust two fingers inside her at the same time as he barely brushed the tip of a fang to her engorged c.l.i.t.

Her body convulsed instantly, and her voice crying out his name was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

His hands shook as he tore at his own clothes, longing to touch her again, feel all of her, be inside her ...

His c.o.c.k slid into her to the hilt with one smooth thrust, and it was all he could do to stop himself from coming right at that instant. Her slick walls were clenching around him, a tight glove that seemed to have been made for him, and there was no other place in the world he would rather have been.

Raising his head to look at her, he brushed away a strand of hair that covered her face.

"This time, you won't get rid of me," he informed her as he slowly pulled back and pressed in again.

"You'll have to stake me before I leave you."