“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 weren’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.”
J
eanne 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.
“D
addy! 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 weakly 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?”
Paul let his gaze slide over her body under the spray as he considered her question and then grinned and shook his head and stepped under the spray with her.
“Not at all,” he assured her, his arms sliding around her waist. He kissed the tip of her nose and then pointed out, “It means you can’t get mad at me if I call you my old lady.”
“Ha ha,” Jeanne Louise said dryly and pulled from his arms to step out of the shower, twisting the hot water tap off as she went. “Enjoy your shower.”
“I—Ahhh!” Paul squawked and quickly began twisting taps as the water turned cold.
“S
o this is Marguerite’s house.”
Jeanne Louise smiled faintly at Paul’s wide-eyed expression as they started up the driveway. “Uncle Jean Claude had it built. He liked to make a statement.”
“Hmm,” Paul said wryly, and then glanced at her. “Who is Uncle Jean Claude?”
“Lucian’s brother and Aunt Marguerite’s first husband. He turned her. Julius Notte is her second husband and her first life mate.”
“Her first life mate? Your uncle wasn’t a life mate too?”
Jeanne Louise shook her head. “No. He turned her and claimed her as one because she looked like his life mate, who died in Atlantis.”
“Hmm.” Paul glanced out the window again. “When did your uncle die?”
“1995,” she answered.
“Jesus,” Paul breathed, and then asked, “How old is Marguerite?”
Jeanne Louise paused to do the calculations. “Seven hundred and forty something.”
“Right,” he sighed and then glanced to Livy, who was clutching Boomer to her chest and peering excitedly out the window.
No doubt he was thinking his daughter had a long life ahead of her, Jeanne Louise supposed, and then glanced out the window as Anders pulled the SUV to a halt in front of the wide double doors of the house.
“Take them in,” Anders said to Bricker. “I’ll park and join you in a minute.”
Jeanne Louise didn’t wait to hear Bricker’s answer, but opened her door and slid out. Paul followed, with Livy hard on his heels, and then Jeanne Louise turned toward the house as the front doors opened and Marguerite appeared.
“Jeanne Louise, sweetie,” her aunt greeted, managing to look apologetic and happy to see her all at once.
“Aunt Marguerite,” she murmured, stepping into the woman’s arms and hugging her.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Marguerite whispered as she hugged her tightly. “I thought everything would work out. And it may still,” she added, squeezing a littler tighter. “Don’t lose hope.”
“I won’t,” Jeanne Louise said quietly, but knew it was a promise that would be hard to keep. Releasing her, she then turned to say, “You know Paul, of course, and this is his daughter, Livy. And that’s Boomer,” she added pointing to the small shih tzu the girl carried.