Damian sighed. "No, not really."

"Do you wish to go out now and look for food? It's not too late yet. I could accompany you, if you'd like."

Damian shook his head. "No. Tomorrow night will be soon enough for that. I'll get up then and...and try and find something to eat, I suppose. I don't think I could stomach it right now anyway."

Can't stomach eating? Or my company? Conrad brushed the question aside because, once again, what did it matter? "You can't let yourself grow too weak, you know," Conrad said, pulling the best card he had left, possibly the only card. "You must stay strong. The twins still need you and...you've already frightened Julie very badly this evening."

"I know." Damian nodded. He seemed weary but composed. Surely a victory of sorts. "I'm sorry for that too. I'll make sure I find her and apologize tomorrow. I'll let her know that...that everything's okay. That I'm fine. That nothing's changed. I'll make up some lie to tell her. But, for now...I just want to be left alone."

"Very well." Taking the hint, Conrad shifted Damian from his lap and rose. "I'll see you on the morrow then." He contemplated mentioning how happy he was to have Damian back, how willing he was to support him in any way he needed, but decided against it. No doubt that would all be taken the wrong way as well.

"Conrad?"

Damian spoke just as Conrad was opening the door. He glanced back toward the bed, surprised at the unnatural pallor on Damian's face, the bleak look that was once again in his eyes. What else was wrong? What more unhappiness must Conrad bear tonight? "Yes, my dear? What is it?"

"I didn't- I shouldn't have..." Damian shook his head and tried again. "I'm sorry. For what I said before I left. And tonight as well. It was...uncalled for. I apologize. I'm only here because I'm needed. I-I know that but, I want you to know that I'm sorry. Truly. And, if you could find it in your heart to look past my behavior, I promise...I promise I won't let you down again."

Oh, my love. As if you ever could. Conrad shook his head, allowing a small, rueful smile to show briefly on his lips. "No. Of course you won't. Rest well, Damian." Then he let himself out of the room and closed the door behind him. Damian let him down? No. Never. If anything, the reverse was true. That was one shoe, it appeared, that was very firmly on the other foot.

Chapter Thirteen.

December 31, 2009 It had only been a few weeks since Marc had been a regular part of the club scene, but so much had happened during those weeks it felt like a lifetime ago. As he checked his reflection in the mirror one last time, he couldn't keep from grinning. He'd spent more time and paid more attention to his appearance tonight than he had at any point in the past twenty years. This obsessing over every detail was so adolescent-and he was hardly that. It might have taken him a while to get here, but in the past few weeks, he'd grown up fast. He wished his sister could be here to share the joke. He could only imagine what Julie would have to say about all his primping and preening.

There was so much he wanted to share with her, so much he needed to talk to her about, but for right now, it was better that he keep his distance, better that she stay safely in the dark. It had been a week since he'd last seen her-the longest they'd ever been separated. He hoped Julie was having fun tonight. She'd always loved New Year's Eve and tonight, for the first time ever, they'd each be celebrating it on their own. He felt a little bit guilty about that as well.

He left his room and headed downstairs, where the rest of the family was already a.s.sembled and waiting for him. Maybe he could have put this off. Maybe he could have done it another night. But he was making a statement, sending a message, taking a stand. And New Year's Eve was the perfect time to do it.

"We're all ready, boss," Nighthawk said, strolling over to join him, and subtly gesturing at everyone to stand up.

As his crew nervously rose to their feet, Marc nodded at his lieutenant. "Good job, man. Thanks." Lieutenant. d.a.m.n it, he still hated the term. Still thought there was far too much of the military, too much of the mob, in it. Not really the impression he wanted to leave anyone with. Even if he himself had fallen into the habit of calling tonight's little excursion a maneuver. He had to call them something, he supposed.

"I did just what you said. Made sure everyone had proper clothes."

"So I see." As he glanced over the black-clad sea that was his people, Marc had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. So, okay, maybe a.s.signing Nighthawk the task of making sure everyone was suitably attired had been a mistake, but after Heather had adamantly refused the task, insisting she was not going to get stuck doing all the girl jobs, he'd been the logical choice. Besides, it only mattered if Marc minded the inevitable jokes and comments people were sure to be making about their apparent attempt to recreate a Matrix poster. But he didn't mind. People could think what they liked. If some of them wanted to draw the conclusion that he and his merry band were just kids playing dress up, he was happy to let them. Being underestimated had never hurt anyone. If anything, it would give them a tactical advantage in the event things turned dicey.

Heather came up beside him and slipped her hand in his, pressing close. Marc turned his head and smiled. "You ready, sweetheart?"

She nodded, but a small frown creased her brow and Marc was pretty sure she was remembering her earlier visits to Akeldama and the not-so-warm welcomes she'd received there.

He squeezed her hand rea.s.suringly. "You're with me tonight, all right? No one's gonna bother you, but if you're worried at all, you just stick close."

She smiled gratefully up at him. "Okay."

"Or she could just stay here," Nighthawk suggested.

Marc shot him a hard look. "Why's that?"

Nighthawk shrugged. "I'm just sayin'. Does she really need to go with us? For that matter, I don't know why we're taking everyone. You're talking about takin' on the frat boys, right? Seems to me it would be easier to coordinate a smaller crew."

"We're not 'taking on' anyone," Marc corrected. He turned to the group. "Is that clear? Does everyone understand this? We're not looking for trouble tonight, we're not going there to start fights. This is a...a diplomatic mission. I'm looking to build relationships. We need to find allies who'll support us. That's why we're all going." He shot another sharp glance at Nighthawk. "I don't want there to be any mistake about who we are, what we are, what we stand for. We're in this together."

"And that's exactly what I'm afraid of," Nighthawk grumbled. "We walk in, all of us at once like this, they're gonna take one look, and they're gonna wanna take us all out again. Permanently."

Marc sighed. He couldn't blame Nighthawk for being worried. After everything they'd all been through, tonight's mission might seem daunting, but Marc didn't know of any other way to do this. And he couldn't do it alone. He needed all of them with him. He needed to be sure everyone here was on the same page. "Does anyone else feel like Hawk does?" he asked the room. "Is anyone else having second thoughts or feeling scared about what we're doing tonight?"

Nighthawk started. "Hey, whoa. What? I didn't mean it like that!"

Marc ignored his outburst. "I know some of you may have had a bad experience, either at Akeldama, or at one of the other clubs. They may have given you a hard time when you were there before, they might even have chased you out, but that's all in the past. Tonight marks the start of a new year. From here on out, things are going to be different. No one here is alone anymore. No one here is an outcast. And like I just got through telling Heather, if you're worried, stick close to me. If anyone bothers you, if you have a problem with anybody, or even if you're just uncomfortable with what's going on, come to me with it. I've got your backs."

"And we've got yours," Nighthawk said.

As the crowd broke out in applause, Heather gripped Marc's hand tighter. "We're all ready," she told him, pride shining in her eyes. "Let's do it."

Georgia stared at her face in the mirror of her dressing table. She'd been attempting to complete her toilette when she was struck by the futility of it all. She looked old, drawn and tired. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep up appearances. Even to her own eyes she looked worse-so much worse-than she had the night she'd arrived here. Was it really only two months ago? She shouldn't be aging at all, shouldn't be ill. Someone was sure to think it odd if she showed up at the party looking so obviously unwell. Even if Damian somehow, miraculously, failed to notice and comment on it, surely someone else would mention how haggard she looked. Then would come the questions, the accusations, and a confrontation with Conrad to which there could only be one possible outcome.

Being torn to pieces in a ballroom, while a mob of vampires in evening dress looked on; that was certainly not how she'd ever thought she'd meet her end. She'd been so sure Christian would be here by now to save her. She'd counted on it, very foolishly it seemed, for when had her timing ever been anything but lamentable?

Perhaps she could pretend to have gotten a lead on Audrey's whereabouts? If she could excuse herself from the party without giving rise to suspicion, if she could hide out from the general population, she might be able to buy herself another day-or two days, or three-but it was still only a matter of time.

"Georgia? Darling, are you in there?" The knock was at the door from the hall. The soft, familiar voice flooded her with sweet relief.

"Christian?" The stool clattered to the floor. She dashed out of her new bedroom and crossed the sitting room at a run, flinging everything aside in her rush for the door. Her hands trembled as she struggled with the lock. Then the door was open. She pulled him inside, pushed him against the wall, threw herself into his arms. "Oh, thank heaven. I thought you'd never get here."

"My poor, poor girl. Look at you. You're shaking." His hands smoothed over her back. "You really have been up against it, haven't you?"

The gentleness in his touch, the concern in his voice, brought tears to her eyes. Nodding, she lifted her face to his, eager for his kiss. His lips beckoned. Her hunger rose without warning, turning her desperate in an instant. The needy animal, never far from the surface, raged out of control.

Christian's eyes widened in horror as she reached for him, fangs at the ready. "No!" He held her away. "Georgie, no. Not the face!"

His fear slapped her back to her senses. She pulled away, dropping her gaze again to hide her blush, her deep humiliation. "Forgive me." She gulped the words out, her tongue thick and unwieldy in her mouth. There were times when the animal was all she was, times when it totally consumed her. This could not be one of those times. She couldn't allow it. One shaky breath. Two breaths. Three. The blood still thundered in her ears but at least she had herself mostly in control. "It's just that I thought... I was beginning to fear... That is, I had started to wonder whether you were coming at all."

"I know, sweetness," Christian said, speaking calmly, soothingly. "I'm sorry to be so late. But it's been one thing after another. My plane was delayed. I was held up in customs. The traffic into the city was an absolute nightmare. I don't wonder you thought I wouldn't get here in time. I was beginning to despair of it myself."

"Yes, of course." She motioned him to follow her into the bedroom. "You've been traveling. How thoughtless of me to have forgotten. You must be famished." She was famished too, but that would have to wait. Just a little longer now. She crossed to the bureau and picked up the cut-gla.s.s decanter filled with blood that someone had thoughtfully provided. The thick, red liquid splashed into the waiting tumblers as she poured. Say what she would about Damian, he certainly knew how to keep Conrad's household running smoothly and comfortably.

"Here." She handed Christian one of the gla.s.ses, kept the other for herself. "Sit. Relax for a minute," she said, gesturing toward the bed. She righted the stool she'd knocked over earlier and seated herself across from him. "Tell me everything. How have you been? How's everything at home? I've missed it all so much."

"Home is just as you left it. I've nothing of any interest to report, other than the fact I've missed you too. Dreadfully so, in fact. But, I suppose that's hardly news, is it?" He smiled fondly at her then put the gla.s.s to his lips and drained it in a series of deep gulps.

Georgia watched his throat work, unable to look away, even though it made the job of calming herself even more difficult. She needed calm before feeding or her venom would be too caustic; she'd cause too much damage. It was a constant fear she lived with, the worry that the pain would become too much, that Christian would reach the end of his tolerance, that he'd run from her, hide from her, leave her doomed. She sipped at her own gla.s.s, and it brought her a little peace, but it couldn't feed the deeper hunger.

"But never mind me. What's been happening here? Are you sure you're all right? You mentioned when we spoke last that Conrad's been acting strangely. You don't think he suspects anything, do you?"

"He can't possibly," Georgia replied wearily. "You know as well as I do what would happen if he had even an inkling."

"I suppose I do. You'd be dead already, if that were the case, wouldn't you? And I'd be next."

Georgia nodded. There was no point in dressing it up. They'd both seen it happen too many times before to think anything else. "Yes. And now there's this party tonight and everyone will be there and I just-" She broke off, biting her lip. She would not beg. She would not play the craven. He knew what was needed. She didn't have to spell it out. He would either give it to her or he would not. True, it was in his best interest to do so, but ultimately, the decision was his to make. He was the one in control-a state of affairs that did not sit well with her. "I'm a little worried about it."

"Right then. Let's get started, shall we?" Christian placed his empty gla.s.s on the bedside table and got to his feet. As he started to unb.u.t.ton his shirt, his gaze traveled over her, lingering intimately. "You'd best go ahead and take off your pretty dress. Wouldn't want to muss it."

Georgia felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Her gaze strayed involuntarily toward the bed. "But can't we just... I mean, we don't have to... "

"Have s.e.x?" Christian's eyes lit up as he laughed teasingly at her. "Oh, but darling, we do! You're still revved up, for one thing. I can always tell. It's there in your eyes. The only way I'll be able to handle you tonight is with more than a few endorphins in my system."

Georgia nodded. "You're right, of course." Rising, she began to disrobe, carefully taking off her gown, and setting it aside where it wouldn't get wrinkled. She kept her back to him, for the most part, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. It wasn't always like this between them. But, at times like these, when her need was so great and his reluctance so obvious, it all felt so coldly clinical. They were having s.e.x for one reason only. So that the pleasure he would receive from the act would make the pain she was about to inflict on him more bearable. They were playing one need off the other, trading service for sustenance like two wh.o.r.es, rather than sharing themselves as lovers might.

"There's another reason for it too, you know." Christian wrapped his arms around her from behind. His hands, sliding across her bare midriff, sent shivers of awareness racing across her skin. "You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever known and it's been months since I've had you."

"I know." It had been months for her too but, even so, she found it hard to believe either of them wanted it like this.

"I want to make love to you." His voice stole through her, dark and insidious. He slid one hand into her hair and tugged, using enough force her scalp tingled. Her breath caught as a wave of heat and need washed over her. She trembled in his arms, afraid to move, afraid to break the spell he was casting over her. "I want to make good and certain you know that even here, even in his house, you still belong to me."

"You know there's nothing between us now." Her words were a broken plea wrenched from her throat.

He pushed her forward onto the bed and then came down on top of her, whispering in her ear. "There'd better not be."

What madness was this, Georgia wondered. What was Christian thinking to make such a demand? Conrad was her sire, and Christian's too by extension. If Conrad wanted her, really wanted her-or if he wanted Christian as well, for that matter-the two of them would be powerless to resist his will. He would have them. And then they would all die.

"I want every last part of you," Christian continued in between hot, savage kisses that covered her neck, her shoulders, her ear, her cheek, but stayed safely away from her fangs. "No exceptions. I want to touch you all over, taste your blood, your heat, your juices. You're mine, Georgia, all mine. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Yours. Want you. Now." She felt her eyes change, felt her fangs extend. She pushed herself up, intent on taking him into her arms, drinking her fill of his blood, but he caught her wrists in his hand before she could get the leverage she needed to unseat him.

"No," he admonished sharply as he pulled her arms over her head, forcing her flat on the bed once more. "Don't you dare." He maneuvered himself above her, keeping his weight centered over her lower back, altering his grip on her wrists so that he had one hand free. "Don't you do it," he said as he tapped her bottom lip with his finger. "Not 'til I say-understood?"

She nodded as best she could, gazing up at him in helpless fascination. There must be a sickness afflicting her soul to make her crave his dominion so.

Heedless to her whimpers, he bent his head to her again, licking, biting, kissing, scoring her flesh with his fangs. Then latching on, drinking deep. She bucked and writhed beneath him, wanting more, wanting to feel his mouth everywhere, wanting the venom and the pain.

Her heart pounded. Her nipples grew taut. Her s.e.x swelled and softened. "Christian, please." A shudder ran through him. He stilled for a moment, fangs spasming a little as he forced them to retract. He lifted his head and licked the wound closed.

He spread her legs wide and delved between them. "You're so wet and ripe for me," he murmured in blissful tones as he slid two fingers inside of her. "So ready, aren't you?" He withdrew his hand and thrust his fingers in his mouth, moaning loudly as he did. She watched him over her shoulder as he repeated the sequence several times. "So very, very ready."

Georgia was more than ready. She was on the verge of losing her mind. She arched her back, canting her hips in mute invitation, groaning in antic.i.p.ation as she felt him positioning himself behind her. Then finally, finally he entered her. She cried out in relief. His heat branded her inside and out. She wanted to move but his weight on her back kept her largely immobile. Not enough. Still not enough. As he settled into his rhythm, she squirmed beneath him, seeking friction, aching for release even as he pounded into her so forcefully that the heavy four-poster bed seemed in danger of shifting along the floor.

He stopped suddenly, after several minutes, pulled out and flipped her quickly onto her back. They were both breathing hard, chests heaving. She felt the animal stir inside as she stared up at him, mouth watering in antic.i.p.ation.

"Now," he said, tapping lightly on his breast with his finger. "Right here." Her gaze tracked the motion and her mood plummeted.

"Oh, Christian," she sighed, reaching up to lightly touch the thick scars. How he must hate me. It was hardly the worst damage she'd ever viewed. It wasn't even the worst damage she'd ever caused in her long lifetime. But to see it so plain on flesh she held dear, and to know she was powerless to stop herself from inflicting more; that was almost unbearable. The animal growled impatiently. It cared nothing about pain. It cared only about survival-hers, its own, his, a little, but only because the rest depended on it.

"Come on," Christian urged. Scowling now, he pulled her hips to his, roughly, and slammed inside her again. "Quit stalling, wench. Do as I b.l.o.o.d.y fekkin' tell you."

She gasped in surprise. How dare he? She was n.o.body's wench, least of all his. Snarling in anger, Georgia reached up and dragged him down to her. A hoa.r.s.e cry left his lips as she sank her teeth into his chest and he let loose with a single sob. Then his own fangs were out. He lowered his head, dug his teeth into her shoulder, and f.u.c.ked her faster and more and more fiercely until he stiffened and groaned and spent inside her.

Georgia, her hunger unleashed, kept on drinking. It barely registered in her mind when he collapsed on top of her. Even his first weak cries of, "That's enough now, Georgie, stop it please," failed to penetrate. He shuddered and clawed at her arms as he tried to wrench himself away; only then did she come to her senses.

"Oh, my G.o.d." She shoved him aside and covered her mouth with a trembling hand as tears obscured her vision. "I'm sorry."

He didn't answer her. His breathing was rough and uneven as he dabbed at the still-bleeding wounds on his chest with a corner of the bed-sheet. Georgia collapsed in a heap and gave in to despair. How much longer could they go on like this?

"Now, now, none of that," Christian said after a moment. Sighing angrily, he pulled her into his lap. "Come along, be a good girl. Close it up right."

She was almost too embarra.s.sed to touch him, but what else could she do? The tears continued to flow as she licked at his wounds, healing the damage as best she could. Finally satisfied she had done all she could, she pulled back timidly, biting her lip. When he tugged her back against him, and cuddled her close, her control deserted her. She dissolved in tears.

"Why're you crying?" he asked after a moment. His tone was gentle, but he sounded weary and frustrated. "You can't tell me all these tears are for me?"

Georgia shook her head. "No. Not all." It was mostly him, but it was everything else as well. Sorrow. Exhaustion. Reaction. Grief.

"Ah. I get it." His accent grew thick, his very voice mocking her. "You're missing the rest of your boys again, aren't you? Is that the way of it, Mum?"

Her boys. Frank and Nigel, Tony, Hal and James. Her heart ached at the thought. "I've asked you not to call me that," she answered, her voice gruff. "Or to speak of them that way. Besides, why should tonight be different from any other night?" She pushed away from him and got up. This time he let her go.

"There's no need for that tone, you know," he said, eyeing her moodily. "You're not the only one with regrets. We've all got those. There's no escaping them, is there?"

"We should hurry and get dressed," she said in answer. "The party should be starting any time now and Conrad won't appreciate it if we're late." Catching a glimpse of her reflection, she shook her head. The blotchy, tear-streaked look was still fading from her face and her makeup would have to be re-done. Still, despite the damage, she knew she looked years younger and infinitely healthier than she had only a few minutes earlier. Breathing a sigh of relief, she seated herself in front of her mirror and began to reapply her makeup. It would do. For now, at least, they were safe.

"I don't suppose you've given any thought to what I should wear?" Christian asked, coming up behind her. "In my haste to respond to your summons I'm afraid I didn't think to pack any formal clothes."

Georgia met his gaze in the mirror and quirked one brow. "When have I ever neglected your needs, love? You'll find a tuxedo and shoes in the closet and anything else you need should be in those drawers over there. I daresay you'll wish to visit a tailor while you're here, but for tonight it should all fit well enough."

"Ah, you're a wonder, you are." He bent to kiss the top of her head, then headed toward the closet to get dressed. "You think of everything. But, still, it's been a long time since I attended anything so grand. Is there anything I should keep in mind?"

Georgia considered the question. "Just don't do anything to anger Conrad," she said at last. "That's the most important thing-as always. He's been in an odd mood lately. He's more relaxed in some ways than usual, but I don't trust it and I certainly don't want to press our luck. And do try and steer clear of Damian. He's quite as annoying as ever, I'm afraid. I'm sure he'll be only too happy to start a fuss about something if you give him even half a chance."

"Very well. Anyone else I need worry about?"

"Actually..." She spun around to face him. "Yes, now that you mention it. I think you should try and get to know the twins."

Christian's eyes widened. "Are they actual twins then? That's somewhat unusual isn't it?"

Georgia sighed. "Everything about them is unusual, as I'm sure you'll soon discover. I've had some dealings with the boy. He's been very troublesome. Hopefully you'll have better luck with the sister."

"I'll do my best. Now, if you're done with your face, do you want me to do up your dress for you?"

"Yes, thank you. That would be most helpful." Georgia got to her feet and slipped the gown over her head. She'd managed just fine on her own when she first put it on, earlier in the evening, but it was nice to be fussed over every once in a while.

Christian zipped up the dress. His fingers lingered on her skin, tracing over her spine. Georgia shivered when she felt his lips brush against the tattoo on her upper back. "Did you choose the dress specifically to put his crest on display?" he asked.

Georgia's heart sank. She bowed her head. "Is it that obvious?" For that had been exactly what she'd thought to do.

"Only to me," Christian answered in soothing tones. "And only because I know you so very well. Don't fret. I'm not upset about it, you know. In fact, I think it a very smart move. He made you a promise, after all. The least you should be able to expect is that he honor it. Why you would not take every opportunity to remind him of that fact-especially now-is a mystery."