had considered using to resurrect her. One like that could have embodied her, but they tended to extract devastating promises.
A witch could have done it as well, but Conrad didn't think this was the case. Though Néomi had said she had 'lots of money,' she probably hadn't factored in eight decades of inflation. Surely she didn't have the kind of money necessary to get even a meeting with a powerful witch. Conrad had heard of some turning their noses up at millions.
She sighed. 'Quel dommage. What a pity, then. If you're after my secret, then we'll be quarreling often. So we might as well enjoy this night. Tell me, where did your hunt take you?'
'Moscow.'
'Were you careful?'
'Always,' he said, which wasn't remotely true. To get to a demon snitch, Conrad had ambushed a subterranean demon lair, fending off two gangs to drag his howling prey by the horns up to the surface.
Even though he had a reason to be more careful, with an actual person waiting at home for him, Conrad couldn't allow others to think he'd changed.
God, how he'd changed.
Tonight, Conrad had given the snitch his standard threat: 'Talk. Or I'll drink you, harvest your memories anyway, and slaughter everyone I see in them.' But the snitch had smelled of fear and cheap gin. Conrad had not only been disinclined to drink the demon; he'd found the idea repugnant.
The last thing Conrad had tasted before he'd left had been Néomi's sweet lips. Drink the demon with the same mouth he kissed his Bride... ?
The rumors of his past brutality were helping him now, but one of these days, someone would call his bluff. Would he be forced to return to his old ways to protect his Bride?
If he had to, Conrad would once again become the thing they feared.
'There. All done.' She finished his bandage by brushing a kiss on it.
Strange, he'd had no reservations about entering that lair, and yet, as his gaze flickered over Néomi's smiling face, he realized that this one-hundred-pound, mortal ballerina scared the living hell out of him.
She hailed the end of life as he knew it. Was his life so great before her? Hell, no. But at least he'd understood it. Now it seemed he could understand nothing, was having to rethink everything.
A future, a family, a real home. Were these things now possible for a man like him?
'Do you worry about me when I'm gone?' he asked.
'Always. From the tidbits of information you've given me, I've gleaned that you're seeking to kill an eight- foot-tall demon who'll be surrounded by a group of swordsmen, ready to lay down their lives to protect him. Do I have that right?'
'You do.'
She quirked a brow. 'Oh, then what's to worry about?' She motioned for him to lie on his front. 'How long will you hunt him?'
'Till I have his head,' he said, stretching across the bed.
'How long will that take?'
'Considering our past pace—it could take weeks, months, even a year.'
'That long?' she asked as she straddled him. 'When you're out, do you ever come across information about your brothers?' Reaching forward, she began to knead his aching neck muscles.
He just stifled a groan. 'No, nothing yet.'
'Is there to be a war in the Lore?' she asked.
'There's always war in the Lore.'
'But this concerns your family.'
'I have other concerns right now.'
'Because of your brothers, you're alive to be here with me right now.' She pressed her thumbs firmly into his shoulders, unraveling the coils of tension there. 'Is it so bad?'
'Yes, I hate this.'
She chuckled.
His brothers had said life could be better, that all he'd needed was his Bride. And now, his life was in no way fixed, but sometimes he'd found himself feeling... hopeful. He wasn't assured of their happiness together—she was mortal and vulnerable and seemed determined to make no commitment to him; he was still half-mad and had numerous assassins competing for his head. But there was indeed possibility.
He owed them for that. 'Would it please you if I said I'll concentrate on them when I finish with Tarut?'
'Yes, mon grand. It really would.'
Conrad would do nothing else until he'd first secured Néomi's safety. Life and death were beginning to have new meaning for Conrad. Instead of being only a taker of life, he was becoming a protector. The ease with which he was assuming the role surprised him.
No wonder all his foes had searched to discover if Conrad had a Bride. She was his sole weakness. And one he'd never anticipated having. Conrad hadn't exploited this vulnerability enough in his enemies, because he hadn't comprehended the unimaginable power of it.
Fear for her overruled everything.
Because if she died, he couldn't simply walk into the sun to join her. He had no delusions that they'd deserve to go to the same type of afterlife.
Again he saw three obstacles between them. Tarut's curse, her secret, and... his own dark needs. Each time they were together, he struggled not to take her neck.
It wasn't as if he hungered for her blood to nourish him—he'd been gulping back mugs of bagged blood to keep from biting her, drinking so much that he'd begun to put on more muscle. His body was strengthening even as his resolve was flagging.
No, his vampire nature made him resent that last barrier between them. He should know his own Bride's taste. His instinct was screaming within him that if they shared the connection of his bite, then she would cleave to him.
But he was strong—he could drain her so quickly. Her mortal body would cede its blood until she died with his fangs still in her neck. He shuddered with dread.
'Did I hurt you?' she asked, climbing off him.
'What? No, not at all.' He turned to his back. 'I was lost in thought.' If he could just secure any kind of bond with her. 'Néomi, I want to speak with you about—'
'Massaging my front?' She reclined with her arms over her head and a seductive smile curling her lips. 'Indeed, I would love that.'
They'd stayed in bed the entire night.
Though Conrad had yet to sleep, he remained awake once she'd nodded off, musing that he'd spent so much time and energy hunting that he hadn't been able to focus on winning her over.
Holding her to his chest, he pondered what to do. He'd already bought her a ring, and awaited the right time to ask her to marry him.
Sometimes when she looked at him, he was confident her feelings for him ran deep, and that she would say yes. Other times, he got the opposite impression—that she was merely biding her time, planning to leave him soon. How to convince her to stay... ?
What if he'd already gotten her pregnant? That would bind them together as nothing else could. But then he'd become a father. He waited for the wave of aversion that idea should bring.
When none came, he explored the thought more, picturing Néomi carrying their babe and Conrad protecting them against the world. The idea felt right. She'd nurture, and he'd provide. Very right.
He'd never wanted children before.
Now he wanted their children.
What if he hadn't already gotten her pregnant? An anxious feeling immediately seized him.
He set her on the bed, then rose to kneel between her thighs. When he spread them wide, she woke with a gasp. As she watched him with heavy-lidded eyes, he gripped his shaft, feeding it into her, then sank deep into her heat.
She gripped his hips, guiding him to thrust as she needed. With each slow plunge, her fingers tightened into
