But then he’d been a fool. And they had fought. And now…

He didn’t know what she was hungry for, but he could sense it in his blood. A simmering restlessness that called to him.

Unleash me.

Feed me.

Make me yours again.

Maybe it wasn’t a challenge she had intended to give him, but he’d take it up nonetheless. Anne was his mate. He’d done his research after she’d left him, worried that he’d never be whole again with half of himself gone.

Mate bonds were never intended to be taken lightly. That was why so many vampires guarded their blood more closely than gold. To give another immortal your blood tied you to them. To take another’s tied them back. They could be bonds of family or friendship. Or passion. Anne and Murphy had shared blood for thirty years. They’d been almost inseparable in that time.

But partnerships—even the closest—did end. With vampires who lived for centuries, it was inevitable. As long as they’d been apart, their mate bond should have faded. That it hadn’t told the superstitious part of Murphy they were meant to be. That was why no other relationship had satisfied. No other woman had appealed to him as Anne did.

She was his and he was hers. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

Now he just had to convince her.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, leaning closer to her. He closed his eyes and allowed his senses to take her in.

She smelled of the ocean and roses. A hint of lilac lingered in her hair from the spring garden at Brigid and Carwyn’s home.

“The music is beautiful,” Anne said. “It’s been years since I’ve been to the opera.”

“We’ll have to see what’s playing in London while we’re there. Go to a proper concert hall.”

A hint of a smile. “Such a snob, Patrick. I like this hall. The acoustics are wonderful.”

“I’m not a snob. I only know what I like. And acoustics aside, this one looks like a lecture hall. An ugly one.”

“It’s modern.”

“It’s ugly.”

She put a finger over his lips and he managed to suppress the smile of triumph. Barely.

Too soon, she drew it away again and leaned back in her seat.

Murphy saw one human eyeing Anne from farther down the aisle. He caught the man’s eye and let a hint of the predator peek through his urbane exterior. The human looked away quickly and returned his attention to the stage.

“Behave,” Anne said.

“Why?”

“I thought you were respectable now.”

“I am when I need to be.”

The opera flew by when Murphy would have had it drag. He had Anne next to him, dressed like a walking dream and forced to be civil. Sadly, it was over before eleven o’clock, and then they were walking to the car. It was only the beginning of the evening for them. He had meetings before the London strategy session at his office the next night.

“Who will be at the briefing tomorrow night?” Anne asked.

“You and me, obviously. Brigid, Declan, and Tom. Deirdre is going to try to make it, but she wasn’t sure.”

“Deidre?”

“She’s very kindly agreed to make her fearsome presence known in Dublin while we’re away to discourage any opportunistic thoughts by others.”

Anne smiled. “And what about herself?”

“I’m not worried about Deirdre taking my city. She hates Dublin life.”

Anne opened her mouth to respond but then closed it, and they continued to walk toward Iveagh Gardens where Murphy’s driver was waiting for them. He might have been running late, per his employer’s earlier instructions.

“And you?” Murphy asked. “How are you enjoying Galway?”

“I love it, of course.”

“Not too dull?”

Her eyes flashed. “Of course not.”

“Have you made it to New York?”

“You know I haven’t. One of your little spies would have told you.”

She’d always wanted to go to New York, but they’d never gone when they were together, and he hated that. Now air travel made everything easy for humans, but unless you were a vampire who had one of the very rare planes fitted for immortal use, you still had to travel by boat or overland. Murphy could have afforded the plane; he simply didn’t see the need when he had so many ships at his disposal.

Anne refused to take any of them.

“Now, now,” he chided. “Don’t call Josie a spy. She’s far more of a meddler than a spy.”

She gestured between the two of them, dressed in their formal attire. “Clearly.”

“She means well. She’s a hopeless romantic, you know? I blame Tom. He’s such a sentimental bastard.”

For the first time in a hundred years, Murphy had the pleasure of hearing Anne laugh. Full throated and rich, her laughter reached into his chest and pulled something out of him. Desire. Intense satisfaction. He’d loved making her laugh.

I adore you.

He couldn’t say it yet. Not yet.

“This was fun,” she said, smiling at him, her eyes lit up and laughing. “I’d forgotten what good company you can be when you behave.”

“I can be even better company when I misbehave.”

“Now now,” she said. “Let’s not do that. We can be… friends, Murphy. We should be friends.”

No, we absolutely should not.

“Of course,” he said smoothly, lying through his teeth. “We should be. It’ll make London much easier. We’ll be spending a lot of time together, obviously.”