“You can’t be . . .” But he was ready again.
“Would you like to be on top?” Eric asked.
“We could do that for a while,” I said, trying not to sound too femme fatale. In fact, it was hard not to
growl. Before I could even gather myself, we’d reversed positions. His eyes were intent on mine. His
hands went up to my breasts, caressing and pinching gently, and his mouth followed after his hands.
I was afraid I was losing control of my leg muscles, I was so relaxed. I moved slowly, not very
regularly. I felt the tension gradually beginning to build again. I began to focus, to move steadily.
“Slow,” he said, and I reduced the pace. His hands found my hips and began to direct me.
“Oh,” I said, as a sharper pleasure began to seep through me. He’d found my pleasure center with his
thumb. I began to speed things up, and if he tried to slow me after that, I ignored it. I rose and fell faster
and faster, and then I took his wrist, and I bit with all my strength, sucked on the wound. He yelled, an
incoherent sound of release and relief. That was enough to finish me, and I collapsed on top of him. I
licked his wrist lazily, though I didn’t have the coagulant in my saliva that he possessed.
“Perfect,” he said. “Perfect.”
I started to tell him he couldn’t possibly mean that, as many women as he’d had over the centuries, but I
figured, Why spoil the moment? Let it be. In a rare moment of wisdom, I listened to my own advice.
“Can I tell you what happened today?” I asked after we’d drowsed for a few minutes.
“Of course, my lover.” His eyes were half open. He was lying on his back beside me, and the room
smelled of sex and vampire. “I’m all ears—for the moment, at least.” He laughed.
This was the real treat, or at least one of the real treats—having someone with whom to share the day’s
events. Eric was a good listener, at least in his postcoital relaxed state. I told him about Andy and
Lattesta’s visit, about Diantha’s appearance while I was sunbathing.
“I thought I tasted the sun on your skin,” he said, stroking my side. “Go on.”
So off I babbled like a brook in the spring, telling him about my rendezvous with Claude and Claudine
and all they’d told me about Breandan and Dermot.
Eric was more alert when I was talking about the fairies. “I smelled fairies around the house,” he said.
“But in my overwhelming anger at seeing your tiger-striped suitor, I put the thought aside. Who came
here?”
“Well, this bad fairy named Murry, but don’t worry, I killed him,” I said. If I’d ever doubted I had Eric’s
full attention, I didn’t doubt it any longer.
“How did you do that, my lover?” he asked very gently.
I explained, and by the time I got to the part where my great-grandfather and Dillon showed up, Eric sat
up, the blanket falling away. He was completely serious and alert.
“The body is gone?” he asked for the third time, and I said, “Yes, Eric, it is.”
“It might be a good idea for you to stay in Shreveport,” Eric said. “You could even stay in my house.”
That was a first. I’d never been invited to Eric’s house before. I had no idea where it was. I was
astonished and sort of touched.
“I really appreciate that,” I said, “but it would be awful hard for me to commute from Shreveport back
here to work.”
“You would be much safer if you left your job until this problem with the fairies is resolved.” Eric
cocked his head while he looked at me, his face quite expressionless.
“No, thanks,” I said. “Nice of you to offer. But it would be really inconvenient for you, I bet, and I know
it would be for me.”
“Pam is the only other person I’ve invited to my home.”
I said brightly, “Only blondes permitted, huh?”
“I honor you with the invitation.” Still not a clue on his face. If I hadn’t been so used to reading peoples’
minds, maybe I could have interpreted his body language better. I was too accustomed to knowing what
people really meant, no matter what words they spoke.
“Eric, I’m clueless,” I said. “Cards on the table, okay? I can tell you’re waiting for me to give you a
certain reaction, but I have no idea what it is.”
