Her only answer was a breathy moan. Her head fell to the side, exposing her throat to him. He grabbed the nape of her neck and forced her eyes back to his.

“If you were a vampire, I would take your blood every night. I would give you mine.” He grabbed the edge of her shirt, yanking it up and over her head so he could feel the heat of her skin on his. “I would feel your teeth pierce my neck. I would live in your body as you live in mine.”

Just then, she leaned over, sinking her dull teeth into the skin of his neck, biting down possessively as her lips sucked.

Baojia roared, his hand slamming into the hood of the car as her mouth pulled. She hadn’t broken the skin, but her teeth held him. A thousand nights flashed in his mind. A thousand years of her love. He had to have it. He had been empty until she filled him. With a snarl, he ripped her mouth away, baring his teeth at the drop of blood that lingered at the corner of her lips.

Her eyes held a kind of madness that mirrored his own. She fumbled with his pants, so he quickly shoved them down, then tossed up the skirt she had borrowed. His fingers slid up the heat of her thighs. Hot. She was burning for him, like a fire in the black desert night. The moon shone down on her pale skin as she lay back on the hood of his car, the metal still holding the warmth of the engine. The only sound around them was the whistle of the wind rustling the brush. She glowed. The single bright spot of light in the blackness that surrounded them. No light, except the moon and the stars that dotted the blackness like the spray of freckles along her pale skin.

Suddenly gentle, he trailed his fingers lightly over her delicate collarbone, over the curves of her breasts, the dip of her waist. “You are lovely beyond words,” he whispered in Chinese. “For no words deserve you.”

She only breathed out, “Please.”

Baojia hooked her leg up and slid inside. Her heat surrounded him as he leaned over her body, pressing his mouth to her navel. The ripple of her ribs and the freckles that marked the swell of her breasts. He lifted her arm, drawing it over her head to anchor her as he moved faster.

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Yes, what?” One hand locked around her wrist as the other shoved her leg higher, changing the angle as her body bowed up.

“I want it. Your bite.” She swallowed hard, the tears teasing the coreasth awaners of her eyes.

“Then say it.” He bit back on his control, slowing down deliberately when he felt her pleasure mounting.

“Bite me, Baojia.” Her body arched, trying to move closer to him as he held her down.

“Not that.” He pulled her closer to the edge. “That’s not what I want to hear.”

She blinked in confusion until her eyes met his, then the blue softened as they glittered in the low light of the moon.

Natalie whispered, “I love you.”

He let out a harsh breath, leaned down, and bit.

Baojia thought they probably looked like refugees from some post-apocalyptic zombie film when they pulled up to the house in Pasadena. He looked over at Natalie with her torn shirt and dusty skirt. His pants were already ripped at the pockets from having to draw his swords the night before. His shirt was history, and his hair was almost as tangled as hers. They had not been gentle with each other out in the desert, and the dent on the hood of the car… Well, that had been worth it.

He cocked his head, frowning at her. “You know, once upon a time, I would have taken you out and charmed you. There would have been nice dinners and theater tickets. Maybe the opera.”

“Do you like the opera?”

He nodded. “I do, actually.”

“Then we should go to the opera sometime.” She glanced down. “We might want to change clothes.”

“San Francisco has an excellent opera.”

Her smile was shy, but not forced. “I’ve heard.”

“Just a thought.” He got out of the car and zipped around to her door before she could open it.

“My knight in dusty armor,” she said, brushing at the tatters of his clothes. Then she glanced at the rather large, hand-shaped dent in the hood of the Camaro. “I almost feel sorry about that.”

“Don’t. It was dented for a worthy cause.” He caught her glancing at the spot on his neck that had already healed, and she blushed. He was about to give the neighbors another show when he heard the motorcycle coming up the street. Baojia turned, recognizing the old amnis of the immortal riding it. The priest had arrived.

The gates swung open as someone spotted him from the house, and the motorcycle pulled up beside Baojia’s car. The giant of a vampire set a foot down and the earth trembled a little. He felt Natalie step closer to him and his guard went up, even though he knew the other immortal was an ally. The man pulled off his black helmet to reveal a shock of unruly red hair and a hard face. He swung his leg over the bike and stalked toward them.

Natalie blinked. “Carwyn?”

The vampire ignored her and growled, “Is my wife here?”

Baojia said, “We’ve just arrived, but I believe so.”

Natalie whispered, “Wait, B’s goofy friend Carwyn is Brigid’s husband? How many vampires do I know?”

“Apparently, more than either of us realized.”

“What kind of vampire wears hideous Hawaiian shirts?”

He had to smile. “That one.”

Grumbling under his breath in some language Baojia didn’t speak, Carwyn ap Bryn, earth vampire, former priest, and currently pissed-off husband stomped up to Giovanni and Beatrice’s home, only to be met at the door by his host. Giovanni raised his hands. “She’s here, but if you catch anything on fire, youg osban’re paying for it. And no structural damage to the house, please.”