* * *
FREY FINDS ME LYING IN THE DARK-CURLED ON OUR bed, knees drawn to chest. He shuts the door quietly and slips into bed beside me, letting me burrow back against him.
"I guess I don't have to ask how it went," he says.
My voice is a soft monotone when I recount the conversation. When I finish, he strokes my hair.
"Your mother's faith in her own kind of eternal life is strong," he says. "She does not fear death. It isn't surprising that she wouldn't agree to be turned."
"But she's not thinking of anyone else," I snap. "She's being selfish. She's not thinking of what her death means to Trish or Dad or me. We need her."
I'm crying again, angry tears that burn hot and seem to sizzle on my skin. Frey's arms tighten around my waist but he doesn't say what I know he must be thinking. He simply waits for me to say what he knows I will.
"That was stupid, wasn't it?" I struggle into a seated position, wiping my face with the sleeve of my shirt and shifting so I'm facing Frey. "I just called my dying mother selfish. She accepted what I told her. Made me feel accepted and loved. Even apologized for criticizing my life choices when I left teaching. And I just called her selfish."
Frey is smiling, one arm resting behind his head on the pillow. "You didn't mean it. I understand."
I snuggle back down beside him. "How do you put up with me?"
"It's a constant struggle."
I push myself back up. "One thing I didn't tell her," I say, half turning so I can look at him. "Is the part sex plays in the vampire dynamic."
"Probably a good thing," he says, slipping his free arm around my waist. "That might have been a little too much information."
Then I'm smiling, too. To a vampire, sex and feeding warm the blood. They are the two things that make our bodies feel alive, feel human. The two things that make what would be an intolerable existence endurable. I read the fire in Frey's eyes, know what he's thinking, feeling. He understands. He always has.
"So do you really think we should practice abstinence for the next couple of days?" I ask, pulling my sweater over my head.
Frey sits up straighter. "Probably. We don't want to cause your dad any more embarrassment."
Leaning down, I gather Frey's T-shirt at the waist and strip it off, dropping it on the floor.
"Or we could be very, very quiet." I've got his jeans unzipped about the same time he's managed to lower mine and we kick out of them together.
He pins me beneath him. He's hard and ready and I raise my hips. When he slides inside, he moans, a deep, guttural cry of joyful abandon.
"Yikes." I push a finger against his lips. "We have to be quiet, remember?"
Even in the dark, I see the color spread up his face. He drops his head momentarily, then with a wicked gleam, begins to move. He drives my passion ahead of his own with each thrust and at the moment of climax, when I forget myself, he smothers my own joyful cry with his lips.
After, when we're lying together, spent, sated, I hear his soft laughter. "See?" he says, tracing a finger along my backbone. "Being with you is a constant struggle."
CHAPTER 19
MOM IS DOWN EARLY FOR BREAKFAST THE NEXT morning. She looks so much better, rested, relaxed. I'm determined to see she stays that way. We share a conspiratorial smile and a quick hug before taking our places at the table. Trish and John-John are deep in a good-natured discussion about who would win in a duel to the death-Iron Man or The Hulk. Even with the age difference, John-John seems to be holding his own.
Frey and Dad discuss the wine business; Mom and I go over the wedding list one last time. There really is nothing to do today but fill out that questionnaire from the wedding planner and wait to hear back about when we'll meet. The real action takes place tomorrow when David and Tracey get in and the grounds are turned into an open-air wedding chapel.
I insist Mom spend the day relaxing. The next two days are going to be more than a challenge. She gives in reluctantly, but does give in. She rises from the table to go up to her room when the front doorbell rings.
"I'll get it," she says, switching directions to head for the door.
Conversation between the rest of us-me, Frey, Dad and the kids-swirls around how to spend our Saturday.
But as soon as I pick up on what's happening at the front door, I'm on my feet. Frey raises an eyebrow, but I wave him off and make my way to join my mother.
She smiles when she sees me. "Look who's here, Anna. Your friend Monsieur Chael." She switches her smile to Chael. "Have you come for the wedding?"
Smooth as only the best charmers can be, Chael has taken my mother's hand and raised it to his lips. "Of course, Madame Strong. I wouldn't miss it."
My eyes widen. You speak English?
I've been practicing.
Mom shepherds Chael to the dining room, looking back over her shoulder to mouth at me, "Is he-?"
I bob my head in quick affirmation. Her eyes widen and she opens her mouth again in a silent "Oh my." But she doesn't miss a beat; she makes the introductions and at Chael's acknowledgment of each person in English, Frey's eyebrows shoot up, too.
Chael turns down an offer of coffee and turns to me. "I apologize for disturbing your breakfast. But I have a message for you from another old friend."
Dad motions to the kids. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Chael. If you'll excuse us, we'll let you speak in private."
I wait until they disappear through the kitchen door, Mom following, and turn to Chael.
"You speak English?"
"I told you I've been practicing."
"So why didn't you tell us?"
"You didn't ask."
I ball my fists to keep from smacking him. "You have a message for me?"
Frey puts a finger to his lips and bobs his head in the direction of a cacophony of cheery voices coming from the kitchen. "Let's go outside."
Good idea. I motion Chael ahead and we step through the front door into the bright sunshine. But before Chael tells us what he came for, he puts a hand on my arm.
"I am sorry about your mother. She is very sick. I am glad you are here. It will make her last days easier."
My stomach lurches. "What do you know of her last days?"
He touches the tips of his fingers together. "I felt it when we touched. She doesn't have much time." He looks at me from beneath a furrowed brow. "If you wish it, I could arrange for her to be brought over. It would be painless. We could spirit her away to another land where she could learn to live as we do. In time, you could be reunited."
I see Chael in a different light. For the second time, he is offering me a gift-he's offering to save my mother. There is sincerity in his words just as there is sympathy in his thoughts. In his way, he is trying to be kind.
"I appreciate the gesture," I say, finding I mean it. "But my mother believes in a god that offers her a different kind of eternal life. She is at peace."
Frey takes my hand as he directs his words to Chael. "You said you could ‘feel' that she hasn't much time. How is that possible?"
"In my mortal life, I was a healer," Chael replies. "I was born with the ability to diagnose through touch. The gift has become stronger with time."
We have been strolling toward the vineyards. I wonder why I wasn't given such a gift. My talents seem to lay in brute strength and physical prowess. Worthless talents. If I could have felt Mom's illness in December, maybe-
You are wrong. Chael is in my head. You have the ability to lead. That is an extraordinary gift in itself and not to be thought of as worthless. As the Chosen One, you determine whether we live in peace with mortals or war against them. Given the choice, I'm sure your mother would prefer you as protectorate.
I think back to her words last night. In a way, she would.
She said I had a destiny to fulfill.
Frey stirs beside me. "I'm assuming the message you came to deliver is from Steffan?"
His words bring Chael and me back to the reason for his visit. For a moment, I'd almost forgotten.
Chael nods. "Yes. King Steffan is requesting the honor of your company at a small party tonight. If it is convenient, of course."
Frey and I look at each other.
"If it's convenient, huh?" Frey is grinning. "Well, Anna, it's up to you. This will be one of our last free nights before the wedding."
I release a noisy breath. "Okay. Tell Steffan we accept. Let's get this over with. Will you be taking us?"
"I will arrange transportation. Shall we meet at the café in the village at seven?"
Frey and I agree and walk Chael back to his car-a sleek new Jaguar sedan-brand-new. The dealer plates are still in place. Impulsively, I run a gentle finger over a door panel. "Nice car."
"I thought you would like it. It is yours to use while you are here if you wish."
The offer is tempting. But I decline. No way do I want to become further in Chael's debt even for a small thing like the loan of a car. If, as we suspect, he is responsible for getting the law off our backs in the deaths of Warren and Judith Williams, that bill will be high enough.
Chael has his hand on the door. "Oh, by the way. The dinner is a formal affair." He reaches in and produces a garment bag from the passenger seat. "For Anna. Steffan wasn't sure you would have anything appropriate to wear. Except your wedding dress, of course." He winks at Frey. "We all know the old adage about the groom seeing the bride before the wedding."