She knew?

Jean-Luc cleared his throat. “Perhaps I should start at the beginning.” “Fourteen eighty-five?” she whispered. “I—I think that could be the

year of your birth.”

His breath caught, and it took a moment to force out a reply. “Yes, it is.”

Her face paled. “Oh God.” She shifted uneasily on the ottoman. “I was right. You’re immortal.”

“Not exactly. I can be killed.”

She nodded. “That’s where the swords come in. I saw it on television. I guess Hollywood knows about you?”

He shrugged. “There have been many stories told about us, but not always true.”

“The bad guy will try to cut your head off. That’s how you die.”

He winced. “Decapitation would be effective, but there are a number of ways to kill me.” He smiled wryly. “I could make you list if you’re keen to know. It might come in handy if I ever forget your birthday.”

She smiled briefly, then winced. “So Louie is immortal, too. That’s why the names you called him died out centuries ago. I checked it out on the

Internet.”

“Ah.” She’d been suspicious from the start. “You’re very clever to

figure out so much. I hope you also realize that you can trust me. I’m doing everything in my power to keep you and your daughter safe.”

She frowned. “You’ve done everything but tell me the truth.”

“I didn’t want to scare you away. You would be too vulnerable on your own, too easy for Lui to kill. I could not allow you to face him alone.”

“So you concealed things to protect me.”

“Yes. And to protect myself. I could not bear it if something happened to you.”

A pained expression crossed her face. “When did the other women die?”

“Yvonne was murdered in 1757 and Claudine in 1832. There’s been no one special since then.”

“That’s a long time.”

He shrugged. There’d been numerous short-term affairs and one-night stands, especially before the arrival of synthetic blood. He needed a few

pints every night, and a well-pleasured woman tended to be more generous. But this was not something Heather would appreciate. “After Lui murdered Yvonne, I avoided any close relationships. I didn’t want another woman to be killed because of me.”

“But you…fell in love again. With Claudine?”

“Yes. I thought it would be safe. I’d hunted Lui for years, but he’d disappeared. Just when I thought it was safe, he came back.”

“Why does he hate you so much?”

“He tried to assassinate Louis XV, and I stopped him. I was one of the king’s personal guards at the time.”

Her eyes narrowed with a pained look. “You knew King Louis XV?” “I have known many kings.”

She glanced down at her clasped hands. Her fingers looked tense, her knuckles white. “You’ve seen a lot of people come and go.”

“Yes.”

She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, they glimmered with tears. “I’ve heard enough. I need to go.” She rose quickly and started toward the door.

“Wait.” He stood and blocked her path. “There’s more.”

“No.” She shook her head, and the tears welled in her eyes. “There can’t be anything more. Not between us. What would be the point? It doesn’t matter if I think you’re incredibly sweet and gorgeous and intelligent—”

“It matters to me.”

“No, it doesn’t. Because to you, I’ll be gone in the blink of an eye. I’m one of those little ants that come and go. I’m surprised you even bother to keep me alive.”

“How can you say that?” He grabbed her shoulders. “Do you think I’m totally heartless?”

“No. But why would you care if I live to be thirty or seventy? What’s forty years to someone who’s over five hundred? My life is just a blip on your radar screen.”

Mon Dieu, he wanted to shake her. “You are everything to me! You are the woman I love.”

She gasped.

“It’s true.” He stepped closer. “I love you, Heather.” She shook her head. “I’ll grow old and gray.”

“And I will still love you. Why would I care if your outer appearance mellows with time? It is you who fills my heart, and I have waited five hundred years for you.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “You always say the most beautiful things.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “You’re the most beautiful man, but I’m afraid this could never work.”

He brushed the tear away. “You’re at war with fear, remember?” He smoothed his hands across her back, drawing her close. “Trust me, chérie.”

“I want to.” She rested her hands on his chest. “But this is so hard…” “We have this moment.” He kissed her brow. “This perfect moment in

time.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Let me love you.” He hovered over her mouth.

“Jean-Luc.” Her hands slipped up to his neck.

He kissed her gently, still aware that she could flee at any moment. He took a slow, leisurely pace, seducing her with softness. Her body responded, molding to his. His groin tightened. He ignored his own urgent need and slipped his hands beneath her T-shirt. He slowly caressed her back.

She shivered, causing her breasts to jiggle slightly against his chest.

With a moan, he drew her lower lip into his mouth and sucked. Her fingers delved into his hair.

“Heather.” He nuzzled her neck. Her carotid artery throbbed against his cheek. His erection grew harder. “Let me love you.”

“I can never resist you,” she whispered.

That was good, but he wanted more. He wanted a declaration of love. He felt sure she loved him. Maybe she didn’t realize it yet. Or maybe she

was afraid to admit it. Either way, he’d make it clear to her. He’d make her scream with pleasure, over and over, until she realized the truth.

He grasped the hem of her T-shirt and eased it up.

“Wait!” She crossed her arms, covering up the little yellow bird on her T-shirt.

His heart plummeted. He released her and stepped back. “Forgive me.” “It’s not you.” She pointed at the camera in the upper corner of his

bedroom. “It’s them.”

“Merde.” He’d forgotten about that. And the damned red light was still blinking. Didn’t they realize this was private? He made a cutting motion

across his throat. The light went off.

“This is embarrassing,” Heather muttered. “What if they turn it back on in five minutes, thinking we’re done?”

He arched a brow. “Five minutes?”

She huffed. “Okay, so I haven’t participated in any marathons.” She glared at the camera. “Or any peep shows.”

With a smile, he strode to his bedside table and fumbled in his top drawer. He removed a remote control, aimed it at the camera, and pushed the off button. “There. They can’t interrupt us.”

“Okay.” She watched him warily as he approached. “I—I’m still not totally convinced this could work.”

“I know, but I can be very persuasive.” He took her by the shoulders. “All night long.”

She shivered as he nuzzled her neck. “I could use a little persuasion.” “I thought so.” He nibbled on her ear. “Where were we?”

“I was about to star in a Girls Gone Wild video.”

He had no idea what that was, but it sounded interesting. “You wish to go wild, chérie?” He grabbed the hem of her T-shirt.

She sucked in a deep breath. “What the hell? You only live once.”

That was debatable, but this was not the time. He yanked the shirt over her head and dropped it. The little yellow bird fluttered to the floor.

His first inclination was to admire her breasts for a moment, but he

knew that would turn his eyes red, and he didn’t want to scare her. Still, he couldn’t resist a quick glimpse. Her plump, rosy nipples were turning pebbly and hard. The tightened tips begged to be suckled. He kept his gaze lowered, grasped her around the waist, and tossed her onto the center of his bed.

“Whoa!” She bounced on her rear.

He landed beside her and shoved her back. “Close your eyes.” “What?”

He kept his face turned away as he untied the draw-string on her pajama bottoms. “Close your eyes and relax. Just let yourself feel.” He leaned over and touched her belly button with his tongue.

She shuddered. “Eyes closed?” “Yes.”

He glanced at her face. Her eyes were shut, and her trust in him swelled his heart. “You’re so beautiful.”

A corner of her mouth tilted up. “Are you looking at my breasts?”

He grinned. “Actually, I was looking at your face.” He kissed her cheek. “But your breasts are beautiful, too.”

“Thank you.”

He rested a hand on her waist. “Si belle.” He skimmed his fingers up her rib cage and the valley between her breasts. Her chest rose with a deep breath.

With his fingertips, he circled one breast, then the other. “Your nipples are becoming darker. Tighter. And I haven’t even touched them yet.” He pressed his mouth against the outside curve of her left breast.

She sighed. He cupped her right breast and massaged gently. She moaned.

“Do you like it gentle…or rough?” He took the hardened tip between his thumb and forefinger and tugged.

She gasped.

“Or perhaps both.” He drew the nipple into his mouth and swirled his tongue around the tip.

She splayed her fingers into his hair. “Jean-Luc.”

“Hmm?” He kissed her other breast, nibbling and tweaking the nipple. He slipped his hand into her loose pajamas, reaching lower and lower until he encountered her curls. Slowly he massaged the plump mound. Her breathing became faster and more erratic.

He nuzzled her neck. “I want to taste you.” “Oh God,” she whispered.

“I want to feel you shudder against my face.” He licked her lips, then kissed her. He swept his tongue inside her mouth, then drew back. “It will be like that, but better. Are you ready?”

“Oh yes,” she breathed, her eyes squeezed shut.

He grabbed the waistband of her pajama bottoms, yanked them down her legs, and tossed them aside. She covered her face briefly with her hands, then flung her arms wide. Her legs moved slightly, bending at the knee.

He grasped her ankles and planted her feet firmly apart on the bed. Her body jolted, sending a quiver down her legs that he could feel. His erection strained against his trousers, and he prayed for endurance. He needed to

make her scream first. He needed her speaking words of love when he fully claimed her.

He clasped her knees and shoved them apart. She gasped.

He stared. Mon Dieu, she was beautiful. Dark auburn curls. Rosy flesh along the outer folds. A darker ruby color in the center. She glistened with moisture. Her fragrance called to him. It smelled of sweet desire and rushing blood.

He nestled a cheek against her soft inner thigh. “You’re lovely beyond words. So sweet and wet.” He skimmed his fingers over her, and her legs trembled.

Her groan sounded urgent and full of need. She clutched at the bedspread and moved her feet to his back.

He moved in closer and touched her with his tongue. One taste and he was lost. He seized her by the hips and swirled his tongue all over her, exploring every bit of her while she squirmed beneath him. He inserted his tongue, but wanted further inside her. He plunged a finger inside, then two, and stroked her while his tongue lapped her clitoris.

She was panting now, her hips rising. He nipped at her, then flicked his tongue, increasing to vampire speed.

She screamed. Her thighs gripped him; her inner muscles clenched his fingers. Her climax rippled through her, over and over, and just when it

showed signs of waning, he tugged at her clitoris and wiggled his fingers. She screamed again, and more spasms shot through her.

He smiled. She responded so well, tasted so good. Soon she would confess her love. He unzipped his trousers.

“That was incredible.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “You’re so good.”

“Yes?” Any minute now, she would declare her undying love. Then he would fill her and make her his own.

“You’re wonderful and…aack!” Horror flashed across her face. “Your eyes are red!”

Zut. “It’s nothing. I can explain.”

“They’re glowing!” She scrambled away from him. “That—that’s not normal!”

“Heather, relax.”

“Fidelia warned me.” She hustled off the bed. “Red glowing eyes.

Danger.”

“I won’t hurt you!”

“Fidelia was right about the fire. She dreamed it.” Heather grabbed her pajama bottoms and stuffed her legs inside. “And she dreamed about red glowing eyes and gnashing white teeth.”

“Dammit, Heather, I’m in complete control.” He stood beside the bed. “I won’t bite you.”

She froze. Her eyes widened. “Bite me?”

Merde. She didn’t know. He motioned to the bed. “Please have a seat. I can explain.”

She retreated a step. “I don’t think so.” She spotted her T-shirt on the floor and nabbed it. “I thought my theory was right. You admitted you were born in 1485.”

“I was.”

She pulled the T-shirt over her head. “What are you not telling me?” “I died in 1513.”

She rubbed a hand against her brow. “Okay. That’s how the immortal guys discover who they are. They die, then come back.”

“I was wounded at the Battle of the Spurs.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “My comrades fled, but I refused to retreat. The English surrounded me. I was stabbed many times and left to die.”

She pressed a hand to her mouth and looked a bit green. “That’s horrible.”

“By the time the sun set, I was barely alive. Roman found me and said I could live to fight again. I agreed, and he changed me.”

“Into an immortal?”

“No, chérie.” He took a deep breath to prepare himself for her reaction. “Into a vampire.”

Her face paled. He could literally smell the blood draining from her face and hands. He could hear her heart pounding. “That—that can’t be true.

Vampires aren’t real.”

“Heather.” He stood and moved toward her, but stopped when she jumped back. “There’s no need to fear me.”

“I think there is. Don’t you—don’t vampires feed off people?” “Not anymore. We drink synthetic blood from bottles.”

“Right. Of course. You’re not tempted to have your meals fresh?” She raised a hand to stop him coming closer, then pointed at him. “Alberto. He was bitten.”

“And I threatened to fire Simone and Inga. They know biting is not allowed in my household.”

“How considerate of you.” She gave him a dubious look. “How many vampires have I met?”

“Robby, Ian, and Phineas. Simone and Inga. Angus MacKay and Emma.”

“Emma?” Heather looked aghast. “I let a vampire watch my baby?” “We’re the best equipped for fighting Lui, since he’s a vampire, too.” “And Phil and Pierre?”

“Mortal. We have to rely on mortals to protect us during the day because we’re…unavailable.”

She raised her brows. “Unavailable? You showed up three hours after Pierre’s death. That was just rude!”

“I hate being separated from you during the day. I hate that I’m not there to protect you or comfort you. But I can’t help it. I’m…dead.”

She blinked. “You mean really…dead?”

With a sigh, he sat on the bed. “Completely dead. It’s very…annoying, but it’s only during the day.”

“Right.” She narrowed her eyes. “I guess you have fangs?”

He touched a pointed tooth. “They’re not extended now. I’m in complete control. You’re entirely safe.”

She scoffed. “Safe? Those things are weapons. Oh sheesh. You had your…mouth all over me.”

“I knew what I was doing. And you liked it.”

She marched up to him and slapped him on the face.

He winced. “Why so angry, chérie? I’ve told you the truth.”

“Now you tell me.” She paced in front of him. “There are certain things you’re supposed to say before sex. Stuff like, ‘By the way, sweetheart, I

have herpes.’ Or here’s a good one—‘Guess what? You’re about to screw a

dead man!’”

He stood. “I am not dead!”

“Give it a few hours! You will be.”

“Does a dead man look like this?” He pushed his trousers down to reveal his bulging cotton briefs. He was no longer fully erect, but he was certainly swollen enough to be noticed. And she did notice. Her eyes widened, then quickly looked away.

“A dead guy who’s stiff,” she muttered. “Go figure.”

“I’m not dead.” He stepped toward her. “Did my lips feel dead when I kissed your breasts and sucked your clit?”

She flinched. “Don’t—”

“Have you already forgotten how you squirmed and screamed in my arms? You gushed all over me.” He licked his lips. “I can still taste you.”

She covered her face briefly. “I haven’t forgotten. That’s why this is so damned hard. I—I thought you were perfect. I thought I was falling in

love.”

“You are. I know you love me.”

“No! I can’t…handle this right now. It’s too much.” She ran to the door and wrenched it open.

“Heather.” He zipped up his pants and dashed into the hallway. She was halfway to the cellar door. “Heather, don’t leave the building. It’s too

dangerous outside.”

She stopped and glanced back at him with an incredulous look. “It’s dangerous inside. I’m living with a bunch of freaking vampires!”

“We’re good Vamps.” He walked toward her. “We would never hurt you. We have sworn to protect you. Please, promise me you won’t leave.”

She gave him a wry look. “I promise. Believe me, I’m trying very hard not to do anything foolish.” She turned and strode to the cellar door.

Jean-Luc sighed with relief. She understood that leaving the house would be foolish. Unfortunately, she was also implying that a relationship with him was foolish.

He would just have to change her mind. Somehow, he’d win her back.

He’d show her he could be trusted. He’d prove to her that their love was not foolish.