Marilyn moved closer to Ryan. The hand that caressed the hair now caressed the vein in her throat. Marilyn leaned closer, whispering in Ryan's ear.

"Do you know how long I've waited for this?"

Ryan shook her head barely able to keep her eyes open. She felt a languor steal over her entire body. The intoxicating whisper continued.

"I wanted you from the first moment I saw you, when you ran into the room, late for Victor's party, dressed like a stable boy."

Marilyn pulled several cushions onto her lap and then gently guided Ryan until she was half-supported by the pile of pillows. Ryan's body felt leaden and the coolness of the cushions felt good against her flushed skin. Marilyn again caressed the vein in her throat and this time Ryan closed her eyes, shuddering from the sensations.

Marilyn noted the response and smiled. She glanced at Abigail, who had stopped knitting and was now captivated by the scene. Marilyn leaned down and brushed her lips against the girl's throat, her eyes on Abigail. She spoke to Ryan. "How long has it been since you've Shared?"

Ryan at first did not understand the question. Even when she did, it was difficult to frame an answer because of her mind's muddled state.

"I've never Shared with anyone but Victor."

The answer so startled Marilyn that she momentarily drew back. Abigail herself was shocked at the reply. Although it seemed a perfectly logical answer, and indeed, the only answer the girl could have given, it seemed unfathomable that Ryan had not Shared in nearly two centuries.

"Oh my," was all Marilyn could say. She gazed down at the youngster who appeared to be in almost a drugged state, and then could not restrain herself any longer.

Ryan felt the sharp pain, both familiar and sweet. Its fire raced from her throat to her heart, and then to every extremity. She moaned and tried to twist out of Marilyn's grasp, but Marilyn was powerful and readjusted her grip. Ryan wanted nothing more than to give herself over to the sensation, but found that she could not. The languor was trying to steal into the deepest recesses of her mind, but a small part of her was watching dispa.s.sionately.

Marilyn was astounded by the power of the One she had just taken on. Warmth flooded every part of her body as the blood of Victor's dark child filled her veins. Wave after wave of pleasure began pounding through her body, coursing through her veins with every powerful beat of Ryan's heart.

Images flooded her mind, images so painfully bright and beautiful it made Marilyn feel things she had never felt before. She wanted to laugh and to cry and to let this powerful heart beat for her forever.

The rhythm did not slow, rather it seemed almost to pick up pace. Marilyn felt she could lose herself in this pulse. There was nothing beyond this rhythm. Just the pulse and the pause between the pulses.

The threat of the languor was even greater now for Ryan. She wanted nothing more than to lay her head down on Marilyn's lap, to just surrender to the dark-haired woman's embrace. She felt that even were she to give in to the la.s.situde now, Marilyn would be more than satisfied. She had felt the woman's astonishment at her power.

But it was not enough for Ryan, and although it took all of her strength, she reached up to stroke Marilyn's cheek.

Marilyn felt the touch, even in the throes of her pa.s.sion. Her astonishment cut through her fevered feeding, and she realized one Need had been replaced by another. Her appet.i.te had been sated and she was filled to bursting; now she desperately ached for release.

She realized what the girl was offering her.

She pulled away, gazing down at the demonic angel who had placed her in this position. Ryan gazed up at her, her movements still leaden but her eyes quite clear as she ran her thumb down the engorged vein in Marilyn's throat.

Ask me, came the voice inside Marilyn's head.

Marilyn wanted to moan in frustration, but not as much as she wanted the girl's teeth at her throat.

Do it.

Imperceptibly, Ryan shook her head. Ask me, came the voice.

Marilyn's frustration was immense. She wanted to tear the girl limb-from-limb. But not as much as she wanted to surrender.

"Please," she whispered through gritted teeth.

Ryan interlaced her fingers behind Marilyn's neck and pulled her downward, not gently. Her razor-sharp teeth bit into the soft skin and Marilyn arched upward but not away. Ryan held her firmly as the dark-haired woman's blood poured into her mouth.

Images began pouring into Ryan's mind and she began to see and experience Marilyn's life. Ryan felt suddenly as if she were Sharing with many strangers as well, and realized she was seeing every person Marilyn had ever Shared with. Not only was she seeing them through Marilyn's eyes, but she was feeling them as well, all distinctly yet all at the same time. Suddenly the images shifted violently and began to multiply, and Ryan was startled to realize she was now seeing and experiencing every person each of these people had Shared with. The visions began to branch out like some great tree spanning all of time, and Ryan's mind joined with thousands as they fed or were fed upon, as they killed or were killed.

The release was extraordinary for Marilyn. She saw and felt the visions as well, and although she was the carrier of such Memories, she herself had never seen them. She felt her own heart racing faster and faster, and it suddenly occurred to her the girl might kill her.

Instead of frightening her, the thought was exhilarating. She remembered what it was like to have this feeling, to be so completely out of control that not even death mattered. It was reckless, it was d.a.m.ning, it was euphoric, it was delirious.

It was ecstasy.

Ryan felt her own heart take over Marilyn's, pushing it faster and faster. She felt the woman above her move, but it was to pull her closer, not push her away. She suddenly understood the drive of their Kind, why it was so wondrous to kill another in pa.s.sion. It was diabolical, it was wicked, it was pure self-gratification.

It was ecstasy.

Marilyn's heart stopped and Ryan hovered on the edge of pushing her into the blackness from which she might not return.

And then Ryan pulled away, pulling Marilyn away from the brink with her.

The dark-haired woman collapsed and within minutes was comatose. Ryan held her, somewhat bewildered over what had just occurred. She finally gently disentangled herself from Marilyn, and adjusted the other woman's position so she appeared comfortable on the sofa. Ryan adjusted the cushion under Marilyn's head, then without really knowing why, removed the coverlet from a nearby chair and draped it over the sleeping woman.

"She won't get cold, my dear. None of us do, remember?"

Ryan jerked upward startled. She had completely forgotten about Abigail, who was now sitting across the room in the shadows.

Abigail had moved to her current seating position for exactly that reason: she could see without being seen. She had also moved there because she had just witnessed one of the most extraordinarily erotic events of her life. She had watched many couplings over the years and voyeuristically enjoyed Sharing almost as much as the act itself. But she realized early on in this one that she was not going to be able to maintain her air of amused unconcern.

She had regained it now as she carried another st.i.tch. "You really are Victor Alexander's child," she said meaningfully.

Ryan maintained her gaze, her cheeks betraying only the faintest hint of color. She glanced down at Marilyn, finding it difficult to think at that exact moment.

Abigail laid down her st.i.tchery and stood, approaching Ryan. She stood in front of the girl, lifting a hand to her cheek. Abigail was surprised at the heat emanating from the young woman. Ryan grasped the hand and pulled it to her heart, and Abigail was again startled, but this time by her own reaction. She suppressed the flutter, still wearing her mask of unconcern.

Ryan was aware of none of this, so befuddled was she at that moment. Abigail gently removed her hand from Ryan's grasp, leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek, then made a stately exit from the room.

Ryan sat down heavily in the chair.

Victor was surprised and not surprised to see Abigail enter his room a short time later. He raised an eyebrow when he saw her luggage.

"Leaving so soon?" He leaned back in his chair. "Does this mean you don't want the gift I have offered you?"

"You know me too well for that, Victor. The truth of the matter is that I want to go back there right now and rip her to shreds."

"Or allow her to rip you to shreds," Victor replied dryly.

Abigail smiled her enigmatic smile, but did not disagree. "However," she continued, "I have always practiced considerably more self-restraint than Marilyn. Delayed gratification can be far more enjoyable than immediate self-fulfillment."

Victor was suddenly wary. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying, dear Victor, that you did not place any time constraints on this gift. I, therefore, am choosing to take it at some unspecified time in the future."

Victor's eyes narrowed. He was not happy at this turn of events. "You ever were the one to hold your cards the longest, Abigail."

"It makes playing them all the more enjoyable. But I do not hold them as close to my chest as do you, my Lord. I," she said with emphasis, "do not have any children hidden away. But," she added as if an afterthought, "I will enjoy taking yours."

With that, the matriarch took her leave.

Victor was truly surprised several hours later when he heard familiar footsteps coming down the hallway. The knock on the door was a formality.

"Please come in."

Ryan opened the door, standing for a brief moment in the doorway. Victor was sitting across the room, dressed casually in a pair of slacks and a white cotton shirt unb.u.t.toned at the collar. His tan throat contrasted sharply with the white shirt and his dark hair curled around the edges of the collar. He set his book on the adjacent nightstand, his eyes never leaving Ryan.

She looked a little tired, but other than that, as stunning as ever. Her hair was loose about her shoulders and she was dressed in the same casual manner he was. It was the first time the two had been alone together since his return.

Ryan moved a little further in the room, letting the door close behind her. "May I sit down?" she asked, both polite and formal.

Victor nodded. "Please do."

Ryan was at a loss what to say, so she allowed her eyes to drift around the room, taking in the tasteful, masculine decor. Her eyes finally settled upon Victor, who was still watching her.

"So," Victor asked, deliberately casual, "how was Marilyn?"

To Ryan's credit, her expression never wavered. "You knew."

Victor simply stared at her, asking for no elaboration.

Ryan continued. "You knew I was the more powerful."

Victor nodded, then said all he really needed to say. "Yes."

Ryan continued to gaze at him steadily. "Then why make me go through that?"

Victor did not apologize. "Because you did not know." He paused, then said, "Nor did Marilyn."

Ryan looked down, contemplating his words. Victor's next words were sardonic. "Besides, my dear, you wanted to Share with her."

Ryan's eyes flickered upward to his and she had the grace to appear embarra.s.sed at the revelation. But with the embarra.s.sment was a glint of the ever-present mischief he remembered so well.

Victor sighed. "You will still have to deal with Abigail at some point in time in the future."

Ryan's brow furrowed slightly. Abigail was quite a different story from Marilyn. In some ways, Ryan felt she might be the far more dangerous of the two.

Ryan changed the subject slightly, trying to sound as casual as her father. "Speaking of Marilyn, did you Share with her in my absence?"

Victor saw through the casualness. "Yes," he said, "I did."

There was no break in Ryan's composure. "And did she satisfy you?"

Victor could not conceal his smile. He saw the telltale signs of Ryan's rather formidable temper forming, so he answered truthfully.

"Marilyn ceased to satisfy me the day you were born."

Ryan's composure did not waver, but Victor knew she was secretly pleased. Her countenance darkened, however, and Victor knew she was thinking of her birth.

Ryan stood and walked to the window. She looked out into the darkness, her hand intertwining itself in the ta.s.sel to the shades. She untangled the hand, then tangled it again. She began her question slowly, her voice filled with rare hesitation.

"Did you care nothing for her?"

Victor looked down at his hands, knowing whom she was speaking of. "Your mother?"

Ryan nodded, still looking into the darkness. "Yes, my mother."

Victor shook his head, knowing he could not lie to her. "No, not at the time."

Ryan took a deep breath, but before the pain could spread, Victor continued.

"I could not allow myself to care for her, or you would not be here."

Ryan swallowed hard, a distinctly human gesture which held no purpose for her whatsoever. Victor continued.

"But I see much of her in you, and I think that I have grown to love her over the years."

Ryan held her breath for an endless moment, another distinctly human gesture. She waited to see if the pain would spread as it always did, but Victor's concession seemed to keep it at bay. His words did not make the pain cease; they were not as much as she had hoped for. But they were a point of departure.

She turned away from the window, glancing at the door. Victor also turned his attention to his next approaching visitor.

Both identified the footsteps and Marilyn did not bother with the formality of knocking. She strolled into the room, looking all the world like someone who had just achieved her heart's desire. Two servants with her baggage were in tow.

The servants were left in the hallway as Marilyn closed the door. Victor gazed at her. "I trust you are satisfied that our bargain is fulfilled."

Marilyn let her eyes rest on Ryan. "Oh yes, dear," she said to Victor, "completely satisfied."

Victor raised an eyebrow at the innuendo. It seemed no matter how powerful Ryan had become, Marilyn's sensual teasing of the girl would continue unabated. It appeared from the color in Ryan's cheeks that the suggestive comments would continue to hit their mark, as well.

Victor's eyes narrowed slightly. Marilyn was in incredibly high spirits, contrary to his expectations. He had thought she might be somewhat subdued after her contact with Ryan. But she acted for all the world like a cat that had just gorged on cream. He had a sudden flicker of suspicion.

Marilyn rested her hand on Victor's shoulder, and her eyes rested on Ryan. "I'm not certain which was more enjoyable, my Lord. Finally taking her, or taking her with your blessing."

Victor glanced up at the dark-haired woman. "I would hardly call it my blessing, Marilyn. I had my reasons."

"Oh," Marilyn said significantly, "oh, that's right. I quite forgot. You were trying to communicate something to me, I believe."

Victor's suspicions were growing. It seemed even Ryan was catching on to what the dark-haired woman was implying. "What are you saying, Marilyn?"

Marilyn dropped her pretense, savoring her words as she spoke them. "What I'm saying, little one, is that you cannot teach me something I already know." She dropped her hand from Victor's shoulder. "It appears in this instance, my Lord, that I had you both."

Before either could reply, Marilyn stepped toward the door. "I shall be returning to France immediately. I do hope you will come to see me, very soon." She let one last glance linger on Ryan, then on Victor. "I could get used to having you two around."

With that, she was gone, leaving both Ryan and Victor in silence.