He propped his chin on his hand and didn’t look away. “If I leave you here, what will you do all night?”

Makeda’s mouth opened, but nothing came out for a long time. “I’ll monitor the trials with Dr. McTierney. You know how controlling I am about this.”

“We’re going to know in a matter of weeks if they’re successful, Makeda. With the way our cells regenerate, we’ll know yes or no very quickly.”

“You don’t know that. And if good news comes through that quickly, I’ll… I’ll read a book,” she said. “Drink some wine. Cook with Hirut. Maybe she can teach me some new recipes. I’ll live my life, Lucien. Whatever that’s become now.”

His eyes bored into her. “I don’t like leaving you.”

She put down her pencil. “Is it because you’ll miss me? Or because you’re afraid I’ll hurt myself?”

The look on his face told her it was the second option, even though she was hoping for the first.

“There is nothing I can say that will be enough reassurance to you if you don’t trust me.” She picked up her pencil.

“If you ended your life, I would feel it,” he said quietly. “It would hurt.”

She clenched her fingers around the pencil. Makeda was matter-of-fact about her feelings. She had been deeply depressed and isolated on the island. She’d chosen to make the difficult decision to stay alive and try to make sense of this new life even though her work was finished. She tried to think night to night. If she thought even five years down the line, she began to panic.

“You’ve had my blood now,” he continued. “If you did anything to harm yourself, it would rip me in two. And I’m not talking about the physical pain, though that would be substantial.”

“Lucien—”

“I need you to be aware of the power you have over me right now, Makeda. I’m being completely honest because you seem to constantly expect me to lie.”

“I don’t constantly expect you to lie.”

“Yes, you do. You question everything I tell you.”

“That’s not distrust,” she bit out. “It’s arrogance. I don’t trust anyone’s reasoning as much as my own.”

A slow smile grew on his face. He reached over and twisted a curl around his finger. He was completely obsessed with her hair. It might have bothered her once, but as her hair was in a constant state of tangle because of her water practice, there was nothing much he could do to make it worse. She was considering a very short clip like Saba wore, but the look she imagined on her mother’s face was enough to stay her hand.

“If I recall correctly,” she said, “you find my arrogance attractive. So chew on that, Dr. Thrax.”

“I’d rather chew on you. Come with me.”

“You’re going to be too busy. Don’t you have a world to save?”

“Hang the world!” He tugged her closer and kissed her hard. “You think I care about saving the world more than you?”

“You should. Statistically speaking—”

He took her lips again. This time he didn’t let her go. He twisted his stool and curled his legs around her, dragging her between his thighs as he delved into her mouth. He tasted like Lucien. Coffee and black licorice from the candies he liked to nibble on at his desk. She sank into his mouth, let his arms circle her. She filed every touch and taste and smell away for their inevitable separation.

The thought of Lucien leaving the island—possibly for months—hit her hard, but she wasn’t his mate. She didn’t know what she was, other than the woman he had sex with who bit him. He cared for her—Makeda had no doubt—but she still distrusted her own feelings. Everything in her life had changed. The joy and contentment in his embrace felt like a gift that could be snatched away in a heartbeat. Makeda wanted to depend on it, but she also wanted to be cautious.

Angry kisses turned soft and coaxing. “Hang the world. Come with me,” he whispered. “To bed. Right now. Let me convince you, yene konjo.”

She shook her head to clear it. “Lucien, I need to finish this.”

“You’ve reviewed it a dozen times.” Soft kisses rained over the arch of her cheekbone. “Come with me. I want to show you something new.”

One week with Lucien had been the sexual education of a lifetime. Makeda’s head swam at his touch. He knew exactly how to tempt her. Her relentless curiosity had proven the perfect match to his insatiable hunger. Just the promise of some new pleasure had her weakening.

That was until Saba strode into the laboratory.

Lucien groaned and buried his face in Makeda’s shoulder. “Mother—”

“This procedure you’re suggesting. Will it weaken me?”

Lucien didn’t let Makeda go, but his head popped up and he turned toward his sire. “What?”

“You know of what I speak. These sick vampires, will siring them weaken me?”

Normally, any offspring a vampire sired would siphon off some of their power. At least temporarily. Not that Saba didn’t have a reservoir of power to spare. For her, it would hardly be noticeable. But that wasn’t the only consideration.

A sire’s power was transferred to their new offspring. Old vampires equaled very powerful newborns. In Saba’s case, even siphoning off a tiny part would equal an abnormally powerful new immortal. But marrow treatment wasn’t anything like a true sire bond.