A Bite to Remember (33 page)

Neil had arranged for a wake at his home to follow the funeral and Jackie wondered if all funerals for immortals were so similar to human burials. Or if it was because Stephano was mortal and had been raised with this culture, but it was Tiny who actually asked the question as they drove to Neil’s home.

“Are all immortal funerals like this, or is this because Stephano is mortal?” His voice was a low rumble coming from the darkness of the back seat.

There was a brief silence, then Vincent cleared his throat and said, “I don’t know. I’ve never attended a funeral for an immortal.”

Jackie blinked at him in surprise. “Never?”

Vincent nodded, his attention on traffic as he drove.

“But surely you’ve known others who have died?” she asked with amazement. “What about your mother?”

“She was burned at the stake,” he reminded her quietly. “There was nothing left to bury. My father searched the ashes, but there was nothing.”

Jackie stared at him blankly, finding it impossible to believe that in medieval times they’d managed a fire so hot it had destroyed even the bones. Surely there should have been something left?

“What about Jean Claude?” Tiny asked and Jackie glanced into the backseat as she waited for Marguerite’s answer.

“Another fire,” Marguerite pointed out. “There was nothing left of Jean Claude to bury either.”

“But that’s—I mean, it’s rare for a fire to burn so hot it could incinerate the bones. Even in cremation there are bits left…I think,” Jackie added, because she wasn’t at all certain this was true.

“Bastien thinks that the nanos somehow feed the fire, making it burn hotter. We are apparently quite flammable,” Marguerite said quietly.

“Then how do you know Jean Claude is truly dead?” Tiny asked and Jackie stiffened in surprise. That thought hadn’t occurred to her.

“His ring was in the ashes of the fire,” Vincent answered.

“And I felt him die,” Marguerite said quietly. When Jackie’s eyes cut sharply to her, she said simply, “He was my sire. He shared his nanos with me. We were connected. I sensed his death, felt it, and knew it was by fire.”

Jackie turned slowly in her seat and glanced at Vincent. He hadn’t turned her, but in their excitement while lovemaking they’d bitten each other a time or two and shared their nanos. Would she feel it if he ever died?

As if sensing her solemn gaze and the thoughts behind it, Vincent took one hand from the steering wheel and reached over to take hers and give it a reassuring squeeze.

They were all silent the rest of the way to Neil’s home and pretty much remained that way once at the house. Jackie drank wine and listened to the hushed voices around them while she continued to watch everyone closely, but her mind was now pondering what she’d learned about the connection to a sire. She wondered how connected she and Vincent now
were. And what exactly caused it? Was it his sharing his blood, his nanos, with her? If it were caused by the sharing of his nanos, it was possible she had some connection to the saboteur now as well. She’d swallowed his blood.

The idea was not an attractive one. She needed to talk to either Marguerite or Vincent about this. Jackie needed to know what else the connection might bring about, how it would affect her…and whether Marguerite thought she had enough of the saboteur’s blood in her to have a connection.

With all these concerns on her mind, Jackie was more than relieved when Vincent decided it was time to leave. He left them to go speak to Christian and Marcus, then returned, announcing the others were staying a while longer, but would follow later.

“I’m going to call my daughter and make sure everything’s all right at home,” Marguerite announced as they entered the house several moments later. It seemed obvious that the funeral—sham though it was—had upset her, but then it had upset them all, Jackie suspected. She wasn’t terribly surprised when Tiny trudged up the hall to the stairs, saying, “I’m going to bed. Funerals tire me out.”

“Well, I guess that leaves you and me,” Vincent murmured, sliding his arms around her as they were left alone in the hall.

“Hmmm.” Jackie leaned into his embrace and kissed him lightly on the lips, then said, “Your aunt could come out at any minute.”

“Uh-uh.” Vincent shook his head. “If she were calling Bastien, she might be right back, but calling her daughter,
Lissianna, means she’s in the mood for a chat. She’ll be a good hour, at least.”

“Yeah?” Jackie asked with amusement.

“Yeah,” Vincent kissed her on the tip of the nose, then took her hand and headed for the stairs at a run.

Seventeen

“Slow down,” Jackie laughed as Vincent charged up the stairs. She had no idea if she was any faster or stronger than she used to be yet, but he was definitely still much faster. She couldn’t keep up with him and feared stumbling on the steps in her attempt to do so.

Vincent didn’t just slow down, he paused on the steps and turned back to sweep her into his arms.

Jackie managed to bite back a startled gasp. She grabbed for his shoulders and simply held on for dear life as he hurried upstairs and along the hall to his room. Vincent let her feet slip to the floor so that he could open the door, then he herded her forward into his room with the arm still around her waist.

The door had barely closed behind them before Vincent had her in his arms and was kissing her, backing her through the darkness toward the bed as he did. Jackie laughed into
his mouth as he urged hers open, then gasped, her laughter dying as one of his hands found her breast.

She didn’t know if this was the after-effects of the funeral or what, but Jackie was suddenly desperate to have him inside her, to feel alive. Reaching between them, she undid the belt of his dress pants, then quickly undid the snap and zipper as well. His pants fell open and peeled away with ease to drop to the floor.

Vincent kicked them impatiently away, his own hands already working on removing her clothes as he continued to back her toward the bed. The black dress she’d worn to the funeral came off over her head the moment it was unzipped. Her bra quickly followed. Jackie found herself in only her panties, stockings, and high-heeled shoes when she stumbled back into the bed, then overbalanced onto it with a laugh.

She couldn’t see a thing, but it was obvious Vincent didn’t have the same problem. He bent to catch one foot and lifted it in the air to set to work on the strap of her high-heeled shoe.

“God, you’re the most incredibly sexy woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmured and suddenly stopped trying to undo the shoe. Leaving it on, he bent and caught her panties. With one quick jerking motion, they slid off, then he dropped on top of her, caught her hair in his hand and kissed her again.

This kiss was just as frantic as the first had been, and Jackie responded to it at once. Little moans and gasps slipped from her lips as she arched and shifted beneath him.

“I need you,” Vincent muttered, breaking the kiss.

“Yes,” Jackie gasped, it was the best she could do at that point. Her mind didn’t seem to be capable of long, drawn-out
conversations. She needed him inside her, needed to feel alive as only he could make her feel. She needed him. Unable to verbalize all that, she reached between them, caught him in hand and guided him into her.

The moment Vincent realized what she was doing, he took over, thrusting into her with a groan that ended on a sigh.

Jackie shifted beneath him, arching and pushing back into him, urging him on with little moans and murmurs of pleasure. It was only a matter of a few moments before they were both crying out with pleasure. Vincent filled her with one last thrust, then stayed there as he poured himself into her.

Vincent was snoring.

Jackie heard the sound and recognized what it was before she was quite fully awake. Blinking her eyes open, she peered at his profile in the bit of light seeping through the cracked open bathroom door and smiled faintly. She’d never heard him snore before, but good God, it was loud.

They’d made love tonight with an almost desperate edge. It was as if the thought and talk of death brought on by the fake funeral and burial had raised an urge in both of them to reaffirm life. There had been little in the way of foreplay, both of them desperate to be joined, and had ended with their collapsing in a sweaty heap on the bed.

Apparently, however, they’d shifted apart in their sleep. Jackie was now lying next to him on the bed, with her hand on his chest. Vincent was asleep on his back, one arm over his head, the other across his stomach and he was nearly raising the roof with one growling snore after another. It made her smile, then chuckle silently at herself. No doubt in
a hundred years or so the sound would annoy the heck out of her, and she’d be nudging him and telling him to turn on his side to silence the sound, but for now it made her smile and want to kiss him.

Easing up on one elbow, Jackie peered down at his sleeping face and brushed a wayward lock of hair off his forehead, then frowned as she noted how pale he was. Vincent’s skin was so white, it almost glowed in the dark. Now that she noticed that, Jackie began to notice other things, like the hand across his stomach that was clenched in sleep and moving slightly, as if attempting to rub away pain.

She peered more closely at his face, wishing it was a little lighter in the room so that she could see his expression. From what Jackie could see, it looked to her as if he were grimacing slightly.

It was then she realized that Vincent hadn’t yet fed today. They’d got up late this afternoon, he’d joined her in the tub and made love to her, then they’d divided what little time they’d had before going to the funeral between teaching her to bring on her teeth, and trying to eliminate more people from the list of the employees who had worked on the New York play. She’d fed twice, grabbing a bag from the refrigerator and slapping it on her teeth once she’d finally learned to bring them on, then again before leaving for the funeral, but Vincent hadn’t fed at all. And she hadn’t even noticed, Jackie realized and immediately felt guilty. She now understood what it meant for him to hunger. She’d experienced it and had even experienced mild cramps, but knew right now what Vincent was suffering was much worse than that if the pain disturbed his sleep.

Vincent moaned and shifted on the bed, turning on his side and drawing his legs up so that he was almost in a fetal position. He had to feed, Jackie decided. It would only get worse as more time passed.

Slipping from the bed, she collected her clothes from where they’d landed on the floor and tiptoed to the bathroom. Vincent was still asleep when she slid back out several minutes later. Jackie paused at the bedside to peer at him for a minute, then made her way out of the bedroom and headed downstairs.

She was at the foot of the stairs when she heard the murmur of voices coming from the kitchen. Knowing Marguerite was the only one still up and about, Jackie frowned, then moved to the kitchen door and pushed it open. Her eyebrows rose when she saw Marguerite and Tiny seated at the table.

“I thought you’d gone to bed,” Jackie said to Tiny with surprise and he lifted his large shoulders in a shrug.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh,” she hesitated, then said, “Vincent hasn’t eaten yet today. I’m going to order takeout. Are you hungry?”

Tiny considered the question, then nodded. “I could eat something.”

“Any preferences?”

He shook his head. “Whatever you’re getting. You’ll probably be limited to pizza at this hour anyway.”

Frowning, Jackie glanced at the clock to see that it was 3
A.M.
He was right, their options were limited at this hour. Jackie let the door ease closed and headed for the office. Grabbing the phone book, she settled at the desk to look
through the yellow pages in search of a pizzeria that would be open now. She found one she knew delivered more than pizza, but wasn’t sure what else was on their menu.

Shrugging, Jackie punched in the number and sat back to wait for them to answer. Pizza would be fine. It was one of Tiny’s comfort foods and she suspected he needed comfort food tonight. Funerals were a depressing business.

Finished placing the order, Jackie hung up and sat back in the desk chair, her gaze sliding to the couch. The sight of the large leather sofa reminded her of the first time Vincent had made love to her…and it
had
felt like lovemaking. It had felt like he was cherishing her with his body, something she’d never really experienced before Vincent. And tonight, at the funeral home, he’d introduced her to Cassius as his life mate.

“Life mate,” Jackie whispered aloud. Her feelings on the matter had fluctuated over the days since she’d awakened to find herself turned. Marguerite had said that after watching her children and their mates flounder around, she’d decided it might serve better simply for her to tell her she was Vincent’s life mate so that she could keep it in mind and come to accept it.

Jackie had kept it in mind, all right. The possibility hadn’t been far from her mind for more than a moment in all the hours since then. A true life mate, fated to be with him, meant to live the equivalent of several lifetimes as his mate and love and partner. Who wouldn’t like to be that? Life mates didn’t divorce and Vincent had claimed her as his tonight. Had he meant that? Or had he merely introduced her to Cassius as such to freak him out? Jackie thought he might
have meant it, his eyes had certainly appeared to her to be full of love as he’d looked down at her at the time, but he hadn’t said anything tonight once they were alone in his room. Vincent hadn’t told her he loved her, or even whispered that he’d meant what he’d said.

Jackie had wanted to bring it up and ask him about it, but hadn’t had the courage to do so. Then she’d got carried away with their passion and let it slip away. She wished she’d had the courage to ask. She wished she’d had the courage to tell him she loved him, that he was good and smart and funny and the perfect balm for her wounded soul. She loved him.

“Jackie?”

She glanced up with surprise as Tiny slipped into the room.