Maybe her sire wiped her memory or something."
"Or she," Victor said, and pointed out, "It doesn't have to have been a man."
"Or," DJ said, eyes wide. "Maybe she was injured in the accident and was given
contaminated blood by the blood bank."
"No vampire would give blood to a blood bank," Victor said dryly.
"I guess not," he agreed with disappointment, then stiffened and said, "unless they
were rogue and looking to contaminate a lot of mortals without exposing themselves
to discovery."
Victor gaped at him with disbelief. "You have to stop watching those late‐night James
Bond marathons."
"Well, it's possible," DJ argued. "It's actually a brilliant plan."
Victor snatched up a pillow from the bed and slammed it into the side of his head. "No
it's not brilliant. And it's not what happened here."
"How do you know?" DJ challenged.
"Because, I'm sure even in Mexico they test donated blood before giving it to accident
victims. They'd have spotted the nanos right away and pulled the blood to examine
further and we'd be exposed by now."
"The immortal could have controlled the minds of the people who tested it so that
they didn't test it at all," DJ suggested.
Victor rolled his eyes. "Then there'd be a hell of a lot of confused new immortals
running around Mexico and we'd have heard about it long before now. Elvi was turned
five years ago."
"Oh." The idiot looked disappointed at this news. Apparently, he'd been rather excited
at the idea of a Gold‐finger‐type immortal, plotting to take over the world or some
such thing by spreading his blood around.
Shaking his head, Victor walked over to the king‐sized bed and dropped, sitting on the
side to remove his shoes.
"So…" DJ said.
When he paused, Victor raised his head to peer at him curiously. "What?"
"Mabel's hot, huh?"
Victor blinked at the change in subject, but acknowledged, "She's an attractive
woman." A smile tugged at his lips as he recalled the way DJ had been hanging over
her all night. He bent to remove his second shoe.
"I can't read her," DJ blurted.
Victor froze, and then slowly raised his head to stare at the man. He raised one
eyebrow in question. "You can't?"
DJ shook his head slowly from side to side. "I tried both at the restaurant and then
again when we got back to the house. I can't read her."
Victor let his breath out slowly as he was assaulted by sundry thoughts. The main one
was that DJ had met his lifemate.
"That could be a complication," he commented finally.
"Yeah," DJ agreed, then stifled his grin and said solemnly, "I'll try not to let it interfere."
"Right," Victor murmured, but knew that would be impossible. He'd had a lifemate
once. He knew the effect she had. The man would be scattered and useless, unable to
tear his thoughts from the woman who held his future in her hands like a wee baby
bird that could be nurtured to adulthood, or crushed with the barest squeeze.
Sighing, he pushed aside the envy suddenly gnawing at his insides and kicked off his
second shoe, then stood and crossed the room to flip off the switch.
"Good night, Victor," DJ said as the darkness dropped over the room again.
"Good night," he said quietly, suddenly terribly, terribly tired.
Elvi woke up late. She suspected it was a result of the alcohol the night before and
grimaced over the cotton mouth she was suffering as she stumbled into the bathroom
to brush her teeth. She followed that up with a quick shower, then threw on a pair of
jeans and a T‐shirt and headed for the door, eager to feed.
Both kinds.
She'd have to have blood of course, but would follow that up with real food. Maybe
that cheesecake she'd never got to last night. Or ice cream.
Or bacon, Elvi thought as she stepped out of her room and sniffed. Yes, that was
definitely bacon she smelled. Cheesecake suddenly went to the bottom of the list of
most‐desirable foods. It was too sweet for breakfast, despite the fact that it was
actually seven o'clock at night.
The delicious scents teasing her nose didn't prepare her for the sight that met her as
she entered the kitchen.
Victor stood in front of a pan of spitting, hissing bacon. Harper was at his side, manning
the toaster. Alessandro was just closing the coffeepot and turning it on and Edward
was squeezing fresh orange juice.
"Good morning," she said brightly, grinning at the sight of so many men working so
industriously in her kitchen. Pedro cooked at the restaurant, but Elvi's marriage had
been an old‐fashioned one with her husband working out of the house and never