She was vaguely aware when he snapped her panties off and thought she'd definitely
have to make a trip to the lingerie shop at this rate, but then her mind shut down and
she became a moaning, groaning, sobbing idiot as his mouth returned to torment her.
Eyes opening and closing and head twisting back and forth, Elvi got snapshot images of
the garage ceiling overhead, but she wasn't seeing anything. Her mind was completely
taken up with trying to accept the pleasure flooding her. She'd never experienced
anything like it. There was the pleasure, then endless echoes of the pleasure vibrating
through her brain as if the sensations she was experiencing were some weird
boomerang that she was sending out, only to have them return bigger somehow,
amplified, almost overwhelming.
Elvi was close to exploding, but she wanted to feel him inside her when she did.
Forcing herself to sit up, she reached to tangle her fingers in his hair, relieved when he
began to straighten.
Stepping between her legs, Victor took her in his arms and pressed kisses to her throat
and face as she reached between them for the button of his jeans. She managed the
button and zipper, and then slid her hand inside to find him, nipping his ear lightly with
her teeth as she drew him out of his pants.
Muttering something incoherent by her ear, Victor clasped her by the bottom and
lifted her slightly as she directed his hard length into her.
Elvi bit her lip and groaned as he filled her, her body expanding eagerly to except him.
Pressing her heels against the side of the car, she clutched his bottom as he began to
withdraw and drive himself into her in the age‐old dance.
It was a short dance. Already well primed, Victor had barely thrust into her half a
dozen times when Elvi's body suddenly stiffened, then convulsed, her hands clutching
desperately at him as the world shattered around her. She was vaguely aware of Victor
shouting out with his own release, but the sound seemed far away as she lost her grip
on consciousness and fainted.
Chapter Fourteen
Elvi woke to find herself in bed once again. Confusion clouding her mind, she peered
around, then slowly turned onto her back to peer at the other side of the bed.
Victor was lying on top of the sheets next to her, contemplating the ceiling overhead
with a smile on his face. A glance upward proved there was nothing on the ceiling to
cause the expression so Elvi supposed it must be his thoughts he was smiling about.
When she turned her eyes back, she found his head turned her way, his smile curved
into a grin.
"I fainted," she said.
Victor nodded.
"And you carried me up here?"
"Yes."
Elvi shook her head. "I'm sorry. I had two bags of blood this morning, I don't know why
I fainted. I—" She stopped abruptly as his chest began to shake with silent laughter.
"What's funny here? I'm starting to get concerned. I never faint."
"There's nothing wrong," he assured her, turning on his side to run one hand up her
arm. "Fainting is common for the first year when… two immortals get together."
"For the first year?" she asked with disbelief, and then her eyes narrowed. "Did you
faint?"
"I briefly lost consciousness, yes," Victor acknowledged.
Elvi rolled her eyes. Leave it to a guy. For her it was fainting, for him, it was briefly
losing consciousness. She didn't care, he could call it what he wanted. She felt
marvelous. Her body felt marvelous. Her bed was marvelous. Life was just plain
marvelous at the moment.
"Is that you and your daughter?"
Elvi followed his gaze to the photo on her dresser. It was she and Casey at the town
fair the summer before she died.
"Yes," she murmured quietly.
"And that's your late husband?"
Elvi nodded as her gaze slid over the picture on the other side of the dresser. Harry had
been a handsome man. Tall, silver‐haired and distinguished‐looking. Elvi stared at the
picture for a minute, and then glanced at Victor curiously. "Why have you never
married? Two thousand years is a long time to remain single."
Victor rolled onto his back and closed his eyes and then admitted, "I did marry. Once.
Her name was Marion. She was burnt at the stake in 1695. I was away in London at the
time. If I'd been home—"
"You may have been burnt at the stake too," Elvi interrupted and was extremely glad
he hadn't been home.
"No," he assured her solemnly. "There were too many for Marion to handle alone, but
had I been there…" He let the sentence trail away on a weary sigh.
The memory obviously upset him. Elvi left the subject alone and asked instead, "Did
you have any children?"
He opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. "One. Vincent. He was born in 1590. He is