"Of course he can't." Marc scoffed at the suggestion. "Mommies are ladies and Uncle never brings ladies home. You know that."

Julie nodded grudging agreement. Damian stared at them both. It really shouldn't startle him that the children were perceptive enough to have noticed the differences in his and Conrad's preferences, even at this age. But, ay Dios, here was yet another conversation they would have to have with the twins-years sooner than he'd thought it would become an issue. Buenisimo. Conrad would be so pleased.

"I wish you could though," Julie murmured mournfully.

"Me too." Marc mumbled, burying his face in Damian's shirtfront once again.

"S. I, too, wish there was something more I could do for you both," Damian said. His words gave rise to a thought. Nothing could restore their mother to them, of course, and recruiting a replacement was equally impossible since letting anyone else in on the secret of the children's true nature was far too great a risk to take, but perhaps there was a way to make them feel a little better. "Now, mis ninos, you must dry your eyes and finish your cookies. I have an idea."

"Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight..."

The voices carried on the still night air. Conrad followed the sound to the rear of the house where three figures stood in the backyard, hand in hand, faces turned toward the sky. Warmth and satisfaction filled him at the sight. Of all the hearts currently beating in the world, these were the three he held most dear. On nights like these, he could almost believe he could make this work. That he could keep them safe. That he could keep them alive. That he could, perhaps, even make them happy.

He left the patio and crossed the lawn, cool gra.s.s tickling against the soles of his bare feet as he made his way toward his family. On nights like these, when even the air was gentle and calm, his fears seemed as distant as a dream, and all his worries unwarranted. Even the s.e.xual frustration that had been riding him far too hard these past few years was momentarily quiescent.

He'd been a fool to imagine he could simply do without s.e.x altogether. He'd promised Damian he would respect his wishes that they not be lovers, and so he would. No matter how infuriating he found the ban. But ignoring his needs and suppressing his desires was a dangerous business. The beast within him fed on his frustration-he certainly didn't need to be reminded of that! It grew stronger, more dominant, and so much harder to manage or contain the longer he tried to deny himself.

In the beginning, when the twins were very young, it had made sense for him to nourish the beast. He'd deliberately kept his nerves on edge and kept himself in a perpetual state of combat readiness. A calm demeanor and a pleasant temperament were luxuries he couldn't afford, not if it meant sacrificing even a small portion of his strength. But now, when it seemed possible that he and Damian might actually survive the twins' childhood, it was time to relax his guard.

He could hardly blame Damian for wishing to keep his distance. Conrad had given him sufficient cause to fear him. He'd hurt him so badly it was a wonder Damian had agreed to come back to him in any capacity at all!

Even if he could no longer view Damian as a lover, that didn't mean they couldn't attempt to live peaceably with one another, to be friends perhaps. It didn't mean that Conrad couldn't hope they might someday be more. It certainly didn't mean he would not make every effort to change Damian's mind on the subject either.

Before he could hope to achieve any of these goals, however, Conrad must first ensure that he could hold on to his temper, that he could resist flying off the handle over every little thing. If regular s.e.x with willing strangers was the key to enabling him to accomplish that feat, so be it. It was hardly the worst regimen he'd ever had to adhere to.

"...wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight."

What were they wishing for, Conrad wondered. He laughed softly as he drew up behind them. "It's a little late in the day for making wishes, is it not, my dears? Look around you. Morning is on the verge. The first star of the evening is long since set by now. Or so I should think."

The twins turned their heads as one, mouths falling open, eyes widening in alarm as they gaped at him. Conrad blinked at their dismay. This was not the reaction he'd been expecting. As he met their crestfallen gazes, he bit back a growl of disgust at his own clumsiness. He'd only meant to tease them. When he caused unhappiness, it should be intentional-not like now.

Conrad shook his head in bemus.e.m.e.nt as the children turned back to Damian, as though seeking confirmation that Conrad was wrong. It shocked him, sometimes, to realize how little he understood these children he'd raised since birth-or how little they seemed to understand him. But, then again, he wasn't the only one who'd had a hand in raising them either, was he?

"It's all right, mis ninos." There was a trace of annoyance in Damian's voice, but the smile with which he favored the twins held nothing but love and rea.s.surance. "There's nothing to worry about. The words to the rhyme were perfectly clear, were they not? It's the first star I see, not the first star that rises. Your wishes are safe."

The twins' taut expressions relaxed as they returned Damian's smile. A wholly unwarranted sensation of jealousy twisted Conrad's heart, the sting of it twice as sharp because he knew that, by rights, all he should really be feeling right now was grat.i.tude and relief. At least the children had someone who could correctly intuit their odd moods.

Maybe it was the fact Damian was so much younger-only half as old as Conrad-that accounted for his better understanding of the children. Or perhaps it was because Damian was operating free of the guilt and responsibility that so weighed on Conrad's soul. It certainly wasn't because Damian had intentionally sought to supplant Conrad's place in the twins' hearts and minds. At least Conrad was reasonably certain that was not the case.

Then Damian raised his gaze to Conrad's face and Conrad was no longer quite so sure. The gleam in Damian's eyes tonight was glacial and unexpectedly malevolent; even his voice held more than a hint of spite. "Done so soon? How very efficient of you. I was certain you'd be able to last for at least a few hours."

"Did you?" With the best will in the world, Conrad could not suppress a spark of annoyance. Making love might very well take hours-and certainly he could last that long. He'd dearly love to remind Damian of that fact right now. Maybe even back up the claim with a small sample. But with the children present, hanging on every word, that could never happen. "Perhaps I was simply not in the mood to linger." All Conrad had done tonight was scratch an itch, something that need take no time at all. Still, it had been enough to satisfy him, or so he'd told himself, until Damian's words conjured up memories of other nights with other lovers. Of times when the entire night had not seemed sufficient to express his love.

Damian shrugged. "No. Obviously not. How very disappointing that must have been for the both of you."

"What have you all been doing out here?" Conrad asked, ignoring the jibe and shoving his memories aside to focus on the present.

"Oh, nothing with which you need concern yourself, I a.s.sure you." Damian sketched a meaningless wave in the air. "We were doing nothing of any earth-moving importance."

Conrad smiled at Damian's gaffe. "I'm very much relieved to hear it, although I believe, my dear, the term you're searching for is 'earth-shattering'."

"Is it?" Damian paused, head c.o.c.ked to the side, as thought mulling the question over. "S. I suppose you're correct. For, after all, the earth did not move out here either. Sad, is it not? In any case, the children and I have merely been seeking interesting ways of occupying ourselves until it was time for them to eat."

"Well, they can do that now." Conrad turned to the twins. "Go ahead, children. You may go in now and start your meal. But carefully, just as you were taught. No roughness. Is that understood?"

The children nodded and ran off. Damian stared after them, his expression uneasy. "Conrad, are you sure it's wise to leave them alone with your guest? They're still so young... I don't think we can reasonably expect them to be in complete control of their impulses yet."

"I know. I'll go after them in a moment," Conrad promised. "But, first...what's really going on here tonight?" He laid his hand on Damian's sleeve, far more lightly than he wished. Too lightly to even count as a caress. Still, Damian seemed to stiffen. Conrad lifted his hand away at once. "I've just come from the kitchen. Have you been...cooking?"

"S. Baking, to be precise. I'm just trying to help the children feel more normal; and act more like normal, human children as well. It's important that they be able to fit in-both now and also when they're adults. I thought teaching them a basic familiarity with the kinds of things other children seem to like was a good place to start."

"And wishing on stars? Is that also something you feel will help them fit in?"

"Perhaps. Why? Have you something against wishing now?"

"No. I just wonder if it's wise to put such foolish notions into their heads. Do you really imagine the heavens are at all concerned with the likes of us?" They were vampires, monsters, freaks of nature. And it had always seemed to Conrad that the constellations were not just distant, but also supremely disinterested in anyone's wishes-human or otherwise.

Damian merely shrugged. "They're children, Conrad. What harm could there be in letting them dream? Or, would you take away their innocence so soon?"

"I didn't say there was harm in it, exactly, I just..." He just wished it could ever be that simple. He wished he knew for certain whether any of their dreams had even the slightest chance of coming true, never mind a few of his own. "I'd hate to see them disappointed and it seems farfetched to expect such wishes to come true, does it not?"

Damian sighed. "I suppose so. But, tell me, Conrad, farfetched or not, have you never once wished for something you knew you couldn't have?"

Once? Conrad shook his head. More like every single night for the past hundred and twenty years. Try as he might, he couldn't keep the sneer from his lips-or his voice. "Frequently. Only I'm not fool enough to believe that wishing alone will ever make such dreams come true." Or so he kept telling himself.

A fool? Damian drew in a startled breath. Is that how he thinks of me? But why even ask? He was a fool, was he not? Why else would he have spent decades clinging to the same hopeless dream? "I see." And he did. Finally. He saw that, by waiting on Conrad, praying that someday things would change, Damian had not merely been wasting time. He'd been squandering years of his life, throwing away any chance to find love or happiness elsewhere. He smiled coldly. "Well, I'm sure you're quite right, querido. As always. And, on that note, if you'll be so kind as to monitor the children's progress? I think I'll go out for a bite to eat myself."

"Certainly." A faint look of disappointment appeared on Conrad's face. Damian ignored it. He was finished with trying to puzzle together what Conrad wanted, or thought or cared about. Damian dipped his head in a brief nod, then turned away.

"It's getting close to morning," Conrad called. "You won't be out late, will you?"

"S. It's entirely possible," Damian replied without turning around. "Don't wait up."

Chapter Four.

December 28, 2009 Night had fallen. The vampires were waking up. In the small efficiency apartment located over the estate's garage, Julie Fischer's eyes blinked open. She sucked in a quick breath and glanced around, surprised to find herself sprawled on the floor. Had there been an earthquake? Or had something else knocked her out of bed and startled her from sleep?

Whatever the cause, she was grateful for it. Her dreams had been so far from pleasant, she was glad for any excuse to escape them. An instant later, however, the dreams were all but forgotten. Somewhere close at hand, the anxious throbbing of a human heart begged for her attention.

Come and take me... Come and take me... Come and take me...

Fangs unsheathed, Julie went into a crouch and surveyed the room. The darkness aided her vision, which was always sharper by night, and she quickly oriented on the sound. There. Brennan stood just out of reach on the far side of the bed. Tousle-haired and naked, he had the look of a man who'd just had a good fright. Disappointment settled in Julie's heart, fueled by an uneasy feeling of dej vu. They'd been here and done this before. This was not the first time she'd seen that look on his face. This was not the first time she'd scared him.

It took her a moment to dial down her hunger the necessary notch or two, to keep it from showing too obviously on her face. While she waited, she licked her lips and peered at him curiously. He looked good-no surprise there-tall and dark with bright blue eyes and a day's worth of stubble shadowing his jaw. He looked altogether scrumptious, except for the scowl. That scowl was all wrong. Julie cleared her throat. "Something bothering you, Bren?"

The scowl deepened. "Why don't you tell me?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Julie asked as she picked herself up from the floor.

Brennan took a quick step back, his eyes never leaving her face, his expression shifting from annoyed back to fearful. "N-nothing. Never mind."

"Nothing" it certainly was not. The telltale patter of his racing heart gave that away, but Julie decided to let the lie pa.s.s. She slid back into bed and waited for him to continue.

It took a moment. Finally, Brennan heaved a deep sigh and shoved his hands through his hair. "I guess, maybe... You musta been dreaming again or something, huh?"

Julie nodded. "Just one of my nightmares," she lied. "I can never remember what they're even about." Oh, if only that were true! "But, never mind about that. Why don't you come back over here now?" She shot Brennan an inviting smile and patted the bed beside her. "You still have some time before work, don't you?" They both knew he did.

There was more than enough time for a quick snack or even a not-so-quick tumble between the sheets. The two urges were so closely aligned Julie occasionally found it hard to keep them separate, especially at times like these, with the scent of Brennan's fear tingeing the atmosphere. It was an atavistic response, or so her uncle Damian had explained, a result of her combined human-vampire heritage.

Hunger and reproduction were no more than two sides of the same survival coin, inextricably intertwined. Both were thwarted when Brennan shook his head. "Nah, no sense in that. I'm up now, might as well get an early start to the day. I'm just gonna go grab a quick shower."

But I'm hungry. Disappointed, Julie watched as he backed up another couple of steps, pausing only to snag his clothes from on top of his dresser before continuing his retreat. "Brennan..." Don't make me force you to come back here. Don't make me compel you to give me what I want.

She knew she could do it. She was pretty sure he knew it too. The real question was this: Would she ever? She'd never acted that way with him up until now and she certainly didn't want to start. It was not who she was. It was not who they were. Or so she'd always thought. Until Brennan vanished into the bathroom and Julie heard the unmistakable snick of the lock.

Suddenly, she was a whole lot less sure. She let out an angry snarl. Still hungry! Then she picked up Brennan's pillow and hurled it at the bathroom door in a fit of hurt and frustration.

Maybe she'd only been fooling herself. Maybe "they" were already not who she thought they were. Maybe they never had been.

Even in the dubious safety of his bathroom, the sound of Julie's growl reached Brennan's ears and raised the hair on his neck. He winced at the m.u.f.fled thud of something hitting the door and reached into the shower, hoping the rush of water would mask any other noises. The sight of his face in the mirror, wide-eyed and paler than it should have been, had him shaking his head. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked his reflection. "Why are you still here? How the h.e.l.l did you get yourself into this mess, anyway?" They were pretty much the same questions he'd been asking himself ever since he took this job.

Night watchman and gate guard at the Quintano mansion-just one of the many Victorian-era houses for which San Francisco was justly famous-should have been a cakewalk. The fact that a rent-free, furnished apartment in one of the city's priciest neighborhoods came as part of the gig was a nice bit of extra icing. But the generous pay-that should have been his first big tip-off that things weren't exactly what they seemed. No one would offer that kind of hazard pay for a job that wasn't...well, hazardous. This job was all hazard.

Vampires. Who'd have believed it? A year later and Brennan was still in a state of disbelief. He supposed the exceptionally high salaries he and the other employees were being paid were meant as an incentive to keep their mouths shut, but if that was the case, Quintano could've saved himself some cash. It wasn't the money that kept people from talking. Brennan had figured that one out pretty fast. It was the realization there was no one who was ever going to listen even if you did try and talk to them. It was the fear of being thought crazy that kept most of the staff quiet-that and the even bigger fear of being sliced, diced and served up as part of a midnight buffet.

They'd all seen what the vamps were capable of when rubbed the wrong way. No one in their right mind went looking to get on the wrong side of big, bad and perpetually bloodthirsty.

It had taken him a little longer to admit to the third reason. It was the lure of the venom. The thrill of the heat as it spread through his veins. The craving if he went too long without. He was a s.l.u.t for it those first few months. He couldn't get enough. It was a monster high with no discernible cost. It was easily accessible. It was part of the job. h.e.l.l, it wasn't even something he could ever get busted for. So, really, where was the bad?

The idea that there could be a downside, that nothing in this world came for free, that he was paying-quite literally-in blood, didn't even occur to him. Not until, finally, so gradually he didn't even realize things were getting out of hand, it got to be too much. Until it reached the point where he was having trouble dragging his tired-a.s.sed self out of bed every night and feeling like c.r.a.p every minute he wasn't high. By then he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop and, even if he had wanted to, he wasn't sure they'd have let him.

There was always someone wanting a piece of him, and another someone, and someone else after that. He was so used to saying yes he didn't know how to say no. Then along came Julie, so pretty and sweet. She saw what was happening much more clearly than he did. She'd saved him. She'd chosen him for her own. She'd gone to Conrad and fought for him and, just like that, all the others went away.

He was grateful. He was smitten. And once again he forgot-nothing comes for free. But, in his own defense, how the h.e.l.l could he ever have guessed she would prove a bigger danger than the whole rest of the vampire nest combined?

Brennan stepped into the shower and let the spray of the water unkink his muscles and wash away some of the tension he'd woken up with. He leaned his hands against the tile and contemplated how really and truly screwed up his life had become.

The reason for it wasn't hard to figure out. Most of the time Julie looked so normal and acted so normal she made it easy to forget that "normal" was the one thing she would never be again. As a result, he'd opened his arms and his heart...and stupidly kept his eyes squeezed shut.

And now? Well, waking up to find a pointy-toothed, fiery-eyed fiend clambering on top of you, trying to pin you to the bed sure had a unique way of opening a guy's eyes and re-ordering his priorities. Even if the fiend in question did happen to be his girlfriend.

It was a lucky kick that had dislodged Julie and sent her tumbling to the floor-not that he planned on ever disclosing that piece of information-and lucky was not the kind of bet you took more than once. Not when it was your life you were playing for.

d.a.m.n it, tonight never should have happened. He should have read the writing on the wall the first time he'd woken up to find her snarling and snapping in her sleep. He should have made a clean break of it weeks ago. Doing anything else was just plain stupid.

She was Vampire. He was human. Nothing was ever going to change either of those facts. A smart man would have done a better job of keeping that in mind. A smart man would also have likely put several hundred miles or a couple of times zones between the two of them by now. Which just went to show, he supposed. Obviously, he was never going to be that man.

She should have waited for me, he thought as he grabbed for the soap-as if hopelessly f.u.c.ked was a feeling that could ever be scrubbed away. Intellectually, it wasn't difficult to grasp the appeal. Immortality, eternal youth and, so far as he could tell, endless piles of money came with being one of the Quintano undead. How could she resist? But, all the same, she should have known I'd come along. If only we'd met each other sooner...

If he'd met Julie before she'd been turned, when she was still human, things could have been so different. They could have had a life together, or at least they might have had a chance at having one, but even as he thought it, Brennan knew it was a lie.

What did he know about her, really? None of the vamps liked to talk about their ages and Julie was no exception. She looked to be about twenty, but what did that prove? For all he knew, she could be old enough to be his mother or, h.e.l.l, maybe even his grandmother.

What would she look like now, if she hadn't been turned? If she'd still been human when he met her three months ago, would he still have fallen for her? Or would he have pa.s.sed her by, thinking her nothing more than a very attractive MILF-a.s.suming he thought of her at all?

He stepped out of the shower, toweled off, held his breath and listened, but he heard nothing from the other side of the door. Maybe he'd gotten lucky. Maybe Julie had taken the hint and gone home, back to the mansion where the other vamps lurked. Back to where they both knew she belonged.

Just in case she hadn't, he took his time shaving, took his time dressing, and tried hard to get back a little of the righteous anger he'd almost been feeling. She should have waited for me. She should have known I'd come along someday.

Another lie. The truth was, he hadn't waited for her either. Three and a half years ago, long before he'd had any idea what was at stake, he'd given a big chunk of his heart away and permanently taken himself out of the running for the live-forever crew.

You don't outlive your children, not if you have any kind of choice in the matter. Some truths were so big and bold and obvious that even a blind man in a coma couldn't help but trip over them. This was one of them. You don't choose to stay young and vital and healthy and sit idly by watching as your children age, as they weaken and die. It had been hard enough watching that happen to his father. Watching it happen to Parker, to his own little boy, well, that would be a special kind of h.e.l.l, now wouldn't it?

So it really didn't matter that Julie was beautiful, smart, funny, s.e.xy, caring-or any of an easy dozen other qualities that, all combined, made her pretty much his ideal woman. It didn't matter that he enjoyed spending every spare moment with her, or that the sight of her walking down the drive, coming to see him with a hungry gleam in her eyes and a smile on her lips, had always brightened his work night and made him feel happy. None of it mattered. There'd always be one thing missing from the equation.

She wasn't human. That was kind of a deal breaker for him.

As he exited the bathroom, the smell of coffee and bacon made his heart sink. Julie hadn't gone home after all. She'd stayed and made him breakfast once again, just like a real girl.

This world sure is a funny place, Brennan thought as he gave in to the inevitable and headed into the kitchen. It was a place where your luck might run out just when you needed it most. Where you could wake from a dream to find yourself living a nightmare. Where something so close to perfect could still be all wrong.

Chapter Five.

Marc gazed around him in amazement. This was his first look at his new quarters. Over the past few days, the ferals had been working like demons, practically 'round the clock. They'd taken over the two rooms next to his office, connected them all and turned the s.p.a.ce into a sumptuous private suite.

He didn't know how they'd done it, but he wouldn't have been surprised to learn they had spies, or perhaps even helpers, in Conrad's house. Almost everything-all the ornate, Victorian-Gothic furniture for certain-looked like it could have been pulled from the mansion's attic. He couldn't help feeling they'd made a concerted attempt to replicate everything he'd walked away from, as though to make sure he never felt any lack. Or had any reason to leave them and return to Conrad's nest.

A huge fireplace surround-one with pillars and mirrors and intricately carved wood-had been dragged home from somewhere and secured against one wall. A fake electric fireplace with flames that flickered and moved had been shoved inside the opening in the face of the surround-giving the illusion that it was a working fireplace. Mismatched leather armchairs and a worn leather couch had been positioned in front of the faux hearth, while a ma.s.sive armoire and four-poster canopy bed dominated the bedroom. Scattered on the floor in both rooms were several crimson-toned oriental carpets-threadbare, but still serviceable. It was eclectic, impressive, a little bit goth-and Marc was almost shocked by how much he liked it. "It's freaking perfect." Worried expressions dissolved into satisfied grins. His new family smiled back at him. Marc suspected he was grinning himself. "Good job, everyone. Thank you."

"All right." Nighthawk clapped his hands to get their attention. "C'mon, everybody, time to clear out. Let's give the man some s.p.a.ce so he can enjoy his new home. Let's go," he urged again, when no one seemed disposed to move. "We've got a party to get set up for, don't we? I mean, unless y'all are content to starve for another night."

That got everyone motivated at last. All but Heather, who turned her back on Nighthawk and the departing crowd and wandered away to examine a tapestry that had been nailed into place on one of the walls.

"You all get started," Nighthawk called after the crowd. "I'll be down to help out in a minute. Heather, that means you too, you know. C'mon, get outta here."

Heather shrugged. "I'll go when I'm ready. You're not the boss of me."