“The good it brought me? Sylvius, is this really a love charm?” She clutched the pendant. “I raised you better than that!”
“It can’t make you fall in love. It just shows you possibilities. Apparently, you liked the possibility you saw.”
Constance was speechless; then she swallowed hard. “That’s ... that’s ...”
Sylvius looked smug. “Your Mac is here to see you.”
“Here? Now?” she rose, rounding the edge of the stone bench, more than ready to go.
Sylvius got to his feet, jumped to the top of the bench, then off again, spreading his wings to float down beside her. “He made Lore come and put wards of protection all over the Summer Room door. He did the rooms next door, too, so I can sleep there.”
Sylvius looked a little defiant, but Constance said nothing. It was only right he had a private space of his own, even if she was still fretting whenever he was out of sight. It was going to take her a while to get over their recent scare. To come up with a better plan than hiding behind locked doors, whatever wards the hellhounds put on them.
She wished she could leave the Castle. Maybe Sylvius should.
He watched her expression carefully. “Nothing stays the same forever, little mother. All things change. It’s up to us to make them better.”
Constance found a smile and forced it to her lips. He touched her cheek. His hand was warm, the gesture full of the soft, gentle magic of the incubus. Soft as the sunlight she’d almost forgotten. Soothing. Calming.
Her smile started to bloom of its own accord. Mac was waiting for her. Everything was going to be wonderful.
She wished it with all her heart.
Sylvius took Viktor to his newly warded chambers, leaving Constance and Mac alone in the Summer Room.
She looked up, falling into the rich brown of Mac’s gaze. He looked tired, but happy to see her. They kissed, and she felt the inevitable need to draw him closer, search the kiss for more secrets and pleasures. To give him comfort.
“Did you talk to Atreus?” she asked when they broke apart. There was a lingering grimness about him. She wanted to know why.
Mac brushed the hair back from her forehead. “I did. Sort of. It’s a long story. Let’s talk about that later. I need something else right now. Just for a few minutes.”
“What would that be?”
“You. I need you to make me forget the day.”
He kissed her again, letting his hands slide up her ribs, caressing her waist, her breasts, finally cupping her face with exquisite tenderness.
“Do women in the outside world kiss the same way?” Constance asked when they finally allowed air to come between them. Part of her was afraid to ask. The rest of her couldn’t resist.
“Not nearly so well,” he said with a quick grin. “But d’you know what men and women do, when they want to get to know each other better?”
“What might that be?” Constance twined her arms around his neck, allowing him to sit on the massive, heavy sofa and draw her onto his knee. His strong, broad chest made the best cushion in the world.
“They go out someplace nice and spend time with each other.”
“On a date?” She’d seen the word in the magazines. “Yeah. A date.”
“In my time we called it courting.”
“Remember I said you should come see my world sometime?”
Constance felt her stomach drop like a bucket down a well. She remembered. He’d said it in the haze after love-making. She didn’t think he’d remember. “I remember.”
Mac gave another grin. “Miss Moore, would you go on a date with me tomorrow night?”
She opened her mouth to say no, but he looked too hopeful. He wasn’t like Lore, telling her she’d turn to a rav ening, murderous beast the moment she set foot outside the Castle door.
She looked away in confusion, her gaze dropping to the shining, lovely magazines he had brought. New ones, still smelling of fresh ink. They were better than jewels. They were filled with fuel for a thousand dreams. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
“I’ve already thought of that,” he said. “I’ll bring you something nice.”
“You will?” The words came out like a prayer and a confession both. She sounded like a drowning waif, clutching at the reeds of a riverbank. “But how will I get out of the Castle?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got that figured out, too.” He touched his finger to the end of her nose. “Nothing’s ever perfect, but I’ll make our night as close to absolutely wonderful as I can.”
Lore had to be wrong. Mac wasn’t worried about what she’d do. Still...
“What if I bite someone?” She had to say it. She still had a conscience.
Mac cocked an eyebrow. “Do you want to?”
“No!” she said. “But what if I decide I do?”
He shifted his hands, holding her as gently as he would a bird. “Why would you?”
“What if I can’t help myself? It could happen. I’m a monster, you know.”
He gave a sly smile. “Tell me if you feel the urge. Then we’ll decide what to do. There are people who are happy to let you bite them.”
Constance was stunned. “Bloody hell! Why would they want that?”
Mac looked confused, then considering. “How often were you bitten?”
“Just the once.”
He looked even more perplexed. “Your, um, boyfriend tried to Turn you on, like, the first time?”
“Yes.”
She flushed, remembering that vampire venom was supposed to possess erotic effects. She’d felt none of that. Though she did remember he slobbered. “He wasn’t much for getting a girl in the mood.”
Chuckling, Mac pulled her close. He was warm, his laugh a pleasant rumble. “Say yes, Connie. Come out with me. I’ll show you how a girl is meant to be treated.”
She let him wrap her in his strong, strong arms, imagining herself walking in the open air, the city folding around her like a sequined cloak. How could she deny him, after all he’d done for her? “Where will we go? What will we do? Tell me what it will be like.”
He chuckled again, obviously enjoying himself, and it warmed her through to her spine. “What do you want to do?”
She knew the answer to that. It was in the magazines. “What every other man and woman does. Dinner and a movie.”
“Dinner?”
“I’ll watch you eat.”
He frowned. “Are you sure? That won’t be very exciting.”
“I want to do what everyone else does. I want a proper
“Whatever you want.”
“Really?”
“This will be your night.”
Mac’s eyes were serious. “I promise, sweetheart.”
Mac kept his promises. “Then, yes.”
He grinned, that quick flash of mischief, and the last of her resistance melted. She wanted whatever he could show her. She leaned into him, turning on his knee so that she almost faced him.
He reached down, his fingers brushing against her ankle as they crept up her stocking, following the curve of her calf. The fabric of her petticoats rustled, the old, soft cloth falling in languid folds over his arm. New garments would have been stiffer, but these lent themselves to furtive play.
