Blood Bond

CHAPTER 33

RELIEF THAT MOM WILL BE HOME SOON IS MINGLED with the knowledge that the next time something like this happens, she might not recover. That eventually, she won’t recover.

That eventually, every human I know and love will be taken from me.

Mom, Dad, Trish, John-John.

Frey.

I close my eyes, flashing back to the wedding. Am I fooling myself with Frey? How many times will I repeat the ritual, marry someone I love with a promise of forever? Someone mortal, someone doomed.

Frey is quiet on the ride back. He has taken one of my hands and rested it, covered by his own, on his knee as he drives. The contact is comforting and familiar. I told David yesterday life is too short and love too important to squander. I bring Frey’s hands to my lips. I’m going to appreciate every moment we have.

Frey squeezes my hand. I smile, constantly amazed how my heart can soar one minute, and be plunged into despair the next. This is the saddest and happiest time of my entire life.

Trish rushes out to meet us when we pull up. I put my arms around her shoulders and tell her what happened to Mom, why, and that she will be back with us by dinnertime.

“I should be at the hospital.”

“Mom knew you’d say that. But really, there’s nothing you could do there. That’s why I’m back. She kicked me out, too.”

Trish’s watery smile is coupled with a sigh. “She can be so stubborn.”

“Oh no.” I stop her with a hug then gently propel her toward the door. “We’re not having this conversation again. Let’s go get some breakfast. I’m starved.”

She looks confused and Frey says, “Don’t ask.”

Just then, John-John, David and Tracey are at the door, and we hustle ourselves inside.

* * *

CATHERINE IS DELIGHTED AT THE NEWS THAT MOM IS recovering well and promises to prepare a special dinner for us. We tell John-John and Trish that it was Mom’s suggestion that they spend the afternoon riding and after a little persuasion, they leave for the neighbors. David and Tracey insist on staying another night, as anxious as any of us to see for themselves that Mom is okay. They take the MG and Catherine’s grocery list to the village to shop.

Then it’s just Frey and me.

We’re sitting side by side at the dining room table, coffee mugs drained, some of the morning’s tension finally dissipating.

I stretch my arms overhead and sigh. “What a way to start our first day as a married couple.”

Frey stands up, holds out a hand. “Well, this is still the first day.”

I put my hand in his and he pulls me up. “And we did get interrupted. Mom is going to be all right. We have the house to ourselves. Now remind me, what is it we were doing this morning?”

Frey pulls me close with a hand at the small of my back. “This refresh your memory?”

The feel of him hard against me sends a rush of heat to my skin.

It does.

* * *

“DO YOU THINK IN TWENTY YEARS WE’LL STILL BE spending afternoons like this?”

I’m lying on my stomach, stretched out beside Frey. We’re both naked, both spent after an afternoon of energetic and imaginative sex. I didn’t know there were so many ways to give and receive pleasure.

And I’ve been around.

Frey makes a grumbling sound that is half purr, half growl. “I hope so. Or I’ll have to trade you in for a younger model.”

“Is that so?” I prop myself up on my elbows. “Let’s see. In twenty years I’ll still be thirty, and in twenty years you’ll be—”

“Okay.” Frey covers my lips with a finger. “I get it. I guess I’ll just have to keep coming up with ways to keep you interested.”

“Well.” I draw the word out, my turn to purr. I lift myself so that I am now lying on top of him, stomach to stomach, hip to hip, my legs resting between his. I grind against him, feel a familiar stirring. “You’re off to a great start.”

He pulls my head down for a kiss, tongue teasing, advancing, retreating, until I grip it gently with my teeth and draw it in. He puts his arms around me and I know he intends to roll me over. I don’t let him. Instead I sit up, straddle him, take him fully and deeply inside. His breath catches and his head falls back. He lets me take the lead, lets me draw pleasure from him as I lift and lower, thighs clenched tight, muscles contracting around and against him. His breath comes faster, his body tenses. I’m not there yet, but it doesn’t matter. I watch him, watch his face, watch as the muscles in his abdomen grow taut, watch as his back arches. His hands grasp my hips. He’s so close. A tiny movement, a tightening, and a moan escapes his lips as he empties himself into me.

A moan escapes my lips, too. Intense pleasure as satisfying as any orgasm. Frey’s face, shining, open, so bright with love it’s like looking into the sun.

This is what love is.

I collapse against him. We hold each other. He strokes my hair, and I feel hot tears burn the back of my eyes.

I think of my conversation with Vlad.

Yes.

Love is worth pain. Love is all there is.

I bury my face against Frey’s chest, breathing him in, wanting to imprint his very essence into my brain, secure in the knowledge that I will remember this moment.

As long as I live.

CHAPTER 34

THE TABLE IS LADEN WITH FOOD—A PLUMP ROASTED turkey, bowls of potatoes, steamed carrots shiny with butter, green beans in a casserole crusted with onion rings. In the center of the table, a simple salad in a broad wooden bowl—various greens and kale and still-warm-from-the-garden tomatoes with a dressing made from freshly pressed olive oil and one of Dad’s wines. The aroma from the breadbasket tempts even me. Thick slabs of a hearty, crusty baguette begging to be slathered with home-churned butter. Makes a vampire’s mouth water.

Could be a typical American Thanksgiving feast.

Except that we’re not in America. And this isn’t Thanksgiving. It’s my mother’s wish.

I look around the table, my heart full. Dad is at one end, brandishing the carving knife like a miniature katana, much to the delight of John-John, sitting at his right, and Trish, sitting to his left. The kid’s faces are alight with the simple joy of family together. Next to John-John, Frey watches, too, his wonderful smile a reflection of his son’s. He has one of my hands clutched tightly in his own. Across from us, David and Tracey. Even they are smiling.

I sit, wishing the unbridled contagion of happiness would infect me.

But it won’t.

It can’t.

Mom leans toward me. She’s next to me, opposite Dad, at a table in a storybook setting under big, broad- leafed trees in the backyard of their villa. She reaches for my hand.

I don’t pull back. There’s no longer any need. The coldness of my hand in the warmth of hers no longer