by Lynsay Sands
Anders nodded, but Lucian had already turned to the others in the room.
“Armand, I’m guessing you’ll stay till they leave?” Lucian asked.
“Yes,” he said quietly, squeezing Jeanne Louise’s shoulder.
Lucian obviously wasn’t surprised. He turned his gaze to the other two couples. “Can you bring back the SUVs Bricker and Anders were in?”
There were murmurs of agreement at once. While Anders and Bricker had been solo, Nicolas and Jo had ridden together as had Etienne and Rachel, but the couples would drive back separately to return the SUVs to Toronto.
Lucian didn’t thank them or even comment, he merely nodded, took Leigh’s arm, and led her from the cottage without even bothering to say good-bye. No one was terribly surprised, but there was a collective sigh of relief amongst the group once the door closed behind the couple. It was rather obvious how tense they’d all been as a group, as if they’d all been holding their breath and were only now breathing again.
Jeanne Louise, though, wasn’t sure she would ever breathe again. She knew she should be happy that Paul wasn’t going to be punished, but all she felt was worry, and anxiety and a terrible weight pressing down on her as she contemplated the future. Sighing, she ran one hand wearily through her hair. “I should go tell Paul—”
“Why don’t you go get some rest and let me do that?” her father suggested quietly. “While the rest of us took shifts and caught naps, you didn’t sleep at all last night.”
She hadn’t wanted to leave Livy. Jeanne Louise hadn’t wanted the five-year-old to wake up hurting and confused to find herself in a room full of strangers. As it had turned out, however, Livy hadn’t woken up until after they’d left, and now Jeanne Louise was exhausted. But that wasn’t why she was tempted to accept her father’s offer. She just didn’t think she could face Paul right now without bursting into tears or something else just as weak and ridiculous. Just hours ago she’d been the happiest she’d ever been in her life, sure her future was set, and now that rosy future was a shambles around her and all she wanted was to sleep.
However, her father was pretty angry at Paul over the whole business and she didn’t trust him not to use the opportunity against him.
“I’ll be nice,” Armand Argeneau said dryly, obviously still reading her thoughts. He then added, “I promise.”
Jeanne Louise hesitated, but was just so bloody tired and depressed. She needed sleep . . . and time alone to sort out her thoughts . . . and a good cry. Not necessarily in that order. Sighing, she nodded and then simply turned and left the room to head to the master bedroom and the bed that waited there.
Paul was seated in a chair on one side of the bed, avoiding looking at Justin Bricker who occupied a chair on the other. The two men hadn’t exchanged a word since coming down here. Bricker seemed lost in his own thoughts, and Paul was just too upset at that point to want to talk. That scene with Livy outside just kept replaying in his head like some horrible nightmare and he was left wondering what he’d done to his daughter.
And it had been him, no matter that Jeanne Louise had turned her. He’d kidnapped her to have her do that. But the blood-covered mad thing that had chased after Kirsten and then lunged for his own throat like some mindless fiend hadn’t been his sweet child. And the blond man’s words kept playing through his head too.
Not quite what you were expecting is it, mortal? All you were thinking of was Livy healthy and well. A happy ever after. It didn’t occur to you that she’d change. That it might be a nightmare rather than a dream.
That was exactly how Paul felt, like his life had become a nightmare, and one he’d brought on himself. The man had then said something about Livy not being herself at the moment and still being in the turn. That she probably wasn’t even really conscious, and once the turn was done she’d be the girl he remembered. “Mostly.” But Paul didn’t find that very reassuring. What had the man meant by mostly? He kept asking himself that, as well as wondering what he had done to his daughter.
The sound of the door opening caught his attention and he glanced to it, expecting it to be Jeanne Louise. He was actually relieved when it was her father instead. Paul didn’t think he could face her right now. He was too upset, and was wondering if immortals were as human as they seemed.
“We’re human,” Armand Argeneau said dryly and then glanced to Bricker and said, “Go have your sandwich. I need to talk to him.”
Bricker stood at once and left the room, leaving the two men alone.
Paul waited until the door had closed behind the Enforcer before glancing to Armand, who was moving around to take the Enforcer’s vacated seat. Once the man was seated, he said, “Let me guess. I’ve been found guilty of kidnapping and sentenced to death.”
“No,” Armand said quietly. “You’ve been found guilty of kidnapping and sentenced to live.”
Paul stared at him, knowing he should feel relieved but he was just numb at the moment, his thoughts so full of horror and confusion he couldn’t feel anything else. “So what are they going to do? Take Livy away from me to be raised by immortals?”
“Is that what you want?” Armand asked.
Paul turned to peer at his daughter. She looked as sweet and innocent now as she had from the day she was born, like the same child he’d been willing to give his life for as recently as that morning. The scene in the front yard had taken him aback though. He wasn’t sure who or what she was anymore. Except that she was his daughter, his little Livy. He hoped.
“No,” he said finally.
Armand relaxed back in his seat. “Lucian was telling the truth when he said what you saw in the front yard wasn’t her. She’s still in the turn. Her brain is scrambled at the moment. She wouldn’t have been capable of cognitive reasoning or even realize what she was doing. Once it’s done she’ll be your Livy again.”
“Mostly,” Paul muttered bitterly.
“There will be some differences, of course,” Armand allowed. “She’ll be stronger, faster, resistant to illness and even death. And she’ll need to feed like the rest of us do.”
Paul grimaced at the word feed.
“On bagged blood,” Armand said dryly. “Though she’ll need to be trained in feeding off the hoof too so that if there’s ever a situation where she has no access to bagged blood and needs to feed from the source, she can do so without unduly harming or even killing her donor.”
“Right,” Paul said wearily.
“But there won’t be any change in her personality,” Armand said quietly. “She’ll wake up liking the same things she did before and she’ll still love you.”
Paul swallowed and nodded, relieved to hear that.
“So, Lucian decided you wouldn’t be punished,” Armand said solemnly. “He’s arranging for you, your daughter, and my daughter to be flown back to Toronto once the turn is done, and taken to Marguerite’s.”
Paul blinked at this news. “Bastien’s mother, Marguerite?”
Armand nodded. “My sister-in-law. The three of you will stay with her while Livy is trained.”
“And then?” Paul asked.
Armand hesitated and then said, “That depends on you and Jeanne Louise.”
Paul’s eyes narrowed at the words. “What do you mean?”
“Whether you decide to stay together or not,” he said solemnly.
“I love her,” Paul said simply and it was true. While he was confused about the difference between immortals and mortals right now and worried about how it would affect Livy, he did love Jeanne Louise.
“And she loves you,” Armand said. “But sometimes love isn’t enough and this could very well be one of those times.”
“Why?” he asked at once, anger beginning to stir in him at the very suggestion.
“Because you’re mortal.”
“So I’m not good enough for her,” Paul guessed.
For some reason that amused Armand, and then he pointed out, “When I entered the room you weren’t even sure immortals we
ren’t a bunch of monsters after all.”
“That was just because Livy—” He shook his head, not even wanting to remember her in those moments. “But you said that wasn’t her. That she’ll be fine.”
“So now you think my daughter is the woman you thought she was after all,” Armand reasoned and nodded. “She is. Jeanne Louise is smart, sensible, loving, and compassionate. And she loves you. And you’re mortal.”
Paul stared at him blankly, uncomprehending.
“What do you think she would do if you fell in front of her and broke your back, or neck, or if you were hit by a car, or just anything of that nature happened?”
Paul frowned. “She’d try to help me.”
“She’d probably turn you,” Armand said grimly. “She wouldn’t even think, she’d just rip open a vein and turn you on the spot rather than lose you. And if she did that she’d be put to death.”
Paul sat back in his seat weakly.
“On the other hand, most mortals live their whole lives without deadly accidents occurring and live to a ripe old age,” Armand said on a sigh. “And then she’d simply have to stand by and watch you die of cancer, heart disease, or just plain old age.”
“People die of old age all the time. It’s the natural way,” Paul said quietly.
“For mortals it is,” Armand agreed. “But Jeanne Louise isn’t mortal, and time seems different to us. Because we live so long, time doesn’t pass for us like it does for you. Or perhaps it doesn’t really for you either.”
“What do you mean?”
Armand hesitated and then said, “Twenty years seems like a long time, doesn’t it?”
Paul nodded.
“But twenty years ago you were—What? Nineteen?” When Paul nodded, he asked, “Does it really feel like twenty years have passed since then?”
Paul blinked at the question. In truth it didn’t. Sometimes he wondered where the time had gone.
“If you stay together, Jeanne Louise will have to watch you wither and die over decades, something you couldn’t bear to do even for weeks with Livy,” he pointed out.
“You think I should let her go,” Paul said solemnly, and felt his heart pang at the very thought.
“No,” Armand said. “My daughter loves you. You are her life mate. And she gave up her turn for your daughter after all. She should get something out of it, even if it’s just a couple of decades with you.” He sighed and then straightened his shoulders and said grimly, “But if you love her, you’ll make it clear that you don’t ever want her to give up her life to turn and save you. And you’ll make sure she never does.”
Fifteen
Jeanne Louise murmured sleepily and arched against the body at her back, instinctively thrusting her breast into the hand caressing it. But her eyes opened when she felt a kiss pressed to her neck.
“Paul?” she whispered with confusion.
“I thought you’d never wake up,” he growled by her ear, tweaking her nipple for making him wait.
A husky chuckle slipped from her lips, and she shifted onto her back in the bed to peer at him. “Is Livy all right?”
“Mmm hmm,” Paul murmured, his attention on the sheet he was tugging down to reveal her breasts. Bending, he pressed a kiss to the nipple of one, mumbling, “She’s up and having breakfast with your father and Eshe.”
“Oh,” Jeanne Louise sighed as his mouth closed over her nipple. She closed her eyes as he suckled, but blinked them open when he suddenly stopped and lifted his head.
“I love you,” he said solemnly.
Jeanne Louise hesitated, the worries that had made her cry herself to sleep earlier rising up inside her, but she pushed them back, and cupped his face in her hands and said, “I love you too, Paul.”
He smiled crookedly and bent to press a kiss to her lips, then raised his head again and said solemnly, “Thank you for saving Livy.”
Jeanne Louise swallowed and nodded, unable to speak past the tears suddenly crowding her throat and swimming in her eyes. She didn’t regret saving the girl, but she regretted losing the chance to turn Paul.
“I know it means I can’t be turned, and that we only have three or four decades, but I’ll do what I can to make those the best years of your life,” he promised.
Jeanne Louise closed her eyes. Three or four decades. So little time.
“I want you to promise me something.”
She opened her eyes again. “What?”
“I want you to promise that you will never ever turn me.”
“I can’t now, Paul,” Jeanne Louise whispered, her voice cracking as she made the admission.
“I know. But when Livy fell down those stairs, you didn’t even think. You turned her on the spot to save her. I don’t want you ever to do that with me, to unthinkingly turn me. You would be trading your life for mine, and I won’t have that. I’d kill myself the minute I regained consciousness to save you anyway. So it wouldn’t be worth it.”
Jeanne Louise stared up at him, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes and sliding down into her hair as pain welled up inside her. Throwing her arms around him, she hugged him tightly, whispering, “What am I going to do without you?”
“Jesus woman, I’m not dead yet. Don’t bury me already,” he said huskily, hugging her back. “We have time together. A couple of decades at least, and hopefully four or more. Let’s enjoy them and let the future worry about itself.” He pulled back to peer at her and wipe her tears away, and then asked, “Okay?”
Jeanne Louise nodded.
“Good,” he sighed, and then kissed her to seal the deal.
Jeanne Louise kissed back, and moaned as his hands began to move over her body, his kisses and caresses pushing her worries about the future—and losing him—away for a little while as he made love to her.
“Daddy! Jeanie! Look! I grew new teeth! And look what I can do with them!”
Jeanne Louise blinked her eyes open and stared blankly at Livy as she burst into the room and rushed up to the bed, her fangs sliding out and gliding back into her jaw repeatedly.
“Wow. Well, that’s great, honey,” Paul said weakly beside her.
“Yeah. Justin and Anders taught me how to do it. Justin says I’m the fastest learner ever!” She beamed at the compliment and then whirled away and rushed toward the door yelling, “He said to show you and tell you it’s time to get up. We’re going on a plane!”
“My daughter the vampire,” Paul said on a sigh as Livy disappeared up the hall, leaving the door open.
“She’s a cute vampire though,” Jeanne Louise said with amusement, and then sat up and slid off the bed as she warned him, “You might not want to use the term vampire around the old-timers though. They get kind of touchy about it.”
“And who exactly are old-timers?” Paul asked, getting up and following when she headed into the bathroom.
“Lucian, my father, Eshe, Nicholas, Anders, Aunt Marguerite,” she listed off as she turned on the shower for the water to warm up. Jeanne Louise then turned and bent to look in the cupboard under the sink to find a washcloth and towel. Old-timers were anyone over a century or two old, and there were many more of them, but those were the only ones he’d met so far. “Oh, and Bastien.”
“Right,” he said, dryly. “And how am I supposed to tell who the old-timers are? You all look mid twenties to thirty.”
She smiled wryly and shrugged as she straightened. “Guess it’s best just not to use the ‘V’ word when there are others around.”
“Hmm,” Paul murmured, his eyes sliding over her body. “Speaking of that. How old are you?”
“I’ll be a hundred and three this year,” Jeanne Louise admitted and then stepped in the shower and closed the door. The water was lovely warm and she closed her eyes and turned under it.
“A hundred and three?” Paul squawked, yanking the door open.
Blinking her eyes open, Jeanne Louise peered at him with surprise. “Yes.”
“Jesus,” Paul muttered, leaning w
eakly against the shower door.
Jeanne Louise hesitated and then asked, “Is that a . . . er . . . problem?”
“What?” He glanced at her, and then frowned. “Well, no—I mean, I—I guess I just thought you were younger,” he finished finally.
Biting her lip, she turned away from him to hide her concerned expression and reached for the shampoo to pour some into her hand. Trying to ignore the sudden awkward silence, she massaged the shampoo through her hair, building a lather.
“You just caught me by surprise,” Paul said after a moment, his tone apologetic. “I mean I knew immortals were long lived, I just—”
“I’m considered a youngster by immortal standards,” Jeanne Louise said quietly, before ducking under the spray to rinse the soap away. She stepped back out, blinking her eyes cautiously open and murmuring a thank you when Paul handed her the towel to dry her eyes.
“Just how long has the oldest one lived?” he asked curiously. “I mean, I suppose technically the nanos could keep someone going forever but—”
“Some who survived Atlantis are still around,” Jeanne Louise interrupted. “Uncle Lucian for instance. Others, like his twin brother and parents, have died in beheadings or volcanic eruptions and such, but there are several around still from the early days.”
“Your uncle Lucian is from Atlantis?” Paul asked carefully.
Jeanne Louise paused and peered at him solemnly. “Do not ever joke about him being The Man From Atlantis,” she warned. “Thomas did once and he really didn’t take it well.”
“Right,” he breathed, and then smiled wryly. “I somehow don’t think you have to worry about that. I don’t see your uncle and I sitting around shooting the shit anytime soon.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Jeanne Louise said with amusement, setting the soap back on the rack and stepping under the water again to let the spray rinse the lather away.
“So,” Paul said as she sloshed the water in the places the spray couldn’t reach on its own. “You’re a hundred and three.”
“Almost,” she said and then grinned. “I’m an older woman, Paul.” Tilting her head, she arched an eyebrow and asked, “Is that a problem?”
