Dante hurried up the hall and then jogged downstairs, wracking his brain for a way to get condoms. Buying them was the obvious answer, but while it was only 7:30 in the evening and most stores would be open right now, the Enforcer House was in the country, a good fifteen minutes from the nearest store. He really didn’t want to wait that long to get back to Mary.
Perhaps one of the men would have condoms, he thought and grimaced even as the possibility struck him. That just wasn’t likely. Certainly Russell and Francis wouldn’t have them. And Mortimer and his life mate Samantha were apparently hoping to get pregnant, so they wouldn’t have them. Hell, most immortals wouldn’t. They knew all they had to do to guard against pregnancy was not overindulge in blood. But Mary wasn’t willing to take that chance because she had to take in so much blood just now. He understood, but it was frustrating as hell.
Maybe Mortimer kept condoms on hand for guests who stayed at the Enforcer House, Dante thought suddenly. The man had recently taken to ensuring they had most things an unexpected guest might need: everything from clothes in various sizes to shoes, extra vehicles—even brand-new toothbrushes and toothpaste still in their packaging. Condoms might also be on that list, Dante thought hopefully, as he stepped off the stairs and turned into the kitchen.
He was hoping to find Mortimer in there, since that was where the head of the enforcers had been when Dante had gone upstairs. However, he wasn’t, and the first person he ran into on his quest for condoms was Mortimer’s wife, Samantha. The sight of her made him pause abruptly several feet into the room.
“Oh, hello, Dante,” the slender woman said with a smile when she glanced up from the pot she was stirring and spotted him. “How is Mary? Is she hungry? I made some soup.”
“Er . . . no,” Dante murmured, backing toward the doorway. When her eyebrows went up at his strange behavior, he added, “I was looking for Mortimer.”
“He, Bricker, and Lucian went into his study,” she said, and then added, “I’m sure they won’t mind you interrupting. Although if there’s something you need that I can help with—”
“No!” Dante barked with dismay, and then forced a smile and said more calmly, “Thank you, but it is better I talk to Mortimer.”
“Okay,” Samantha said easily, glancing down into the pot she was stirring. But as he left the room he could have sworn he heard her murmur, “No glove, no love, huh?”
Assuring himself that he must have misheard her, Dante hurried along the hall toward Mortimer’s study. He could hear them talking before he reached the door, but was distracted enough he didn’t bother really listening. He also didn’t wait for a response after knocking at the door, but simply opened it and walked in.
Mortimer, Lucian, and Bricker were all there, as Samantha had said. They were standing around Mortimer’s desk, looking at a map of some kind. All three glanced up with mild curiosity at his entrance.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Dante muttered and then focused on Mortimer and began, “I just wanted to ask if you have gloves.”
“Gloves?” Mortimer asked with surprise. “Sure. There should be some—”
“Oh, sorry, not gloves,” Dante said with a frown, realizing what he’d said. His mind must still have been on what he’d thought he heard Samantha say.
“He means condoms,” Bricker said with amusement, apparently reading his mind where Mortimer obviously hadn’t. Grinning, the young hunter said, “No unwrapped stags between Mary’s legs, huh?”
“What?” Dante asked, his voice choked with shock.
“She wants you to cuff your carrot, before you share it?” Bricker suggested and when Dante just stared at him blankly, he added, “You have to sock that wanger before you bang her?”
“Bricker,” Mortimer said with exasperation.
But Justin just added, “Got no protection? Can’t use your erection?”
“The internet?” Lucian asked dryly.
Pausing, Justin Bricker grinned at the man and said, “Yeah. They have loads of sayings: hide old Harry, then take her cherry. Wrap that pickle, then slip her a tickle. If you can’t shield your rocket, leave it in your pocket. Don’t make a mistake; cover your snake. Cover your stump before you hump. Don’t be a fool—”
“Truly, Justin,” Lucian interrupted grimly. “The subject of your internet searches really worries me sometimes.”
“What?” Bricker asked with surprise. “Why?”
“The fact that you have to even ask me that question also worries me,” Lucian said dryly. “First cocks, now condoms. What is next?”
“Well, I did come across this site that has—”
“I do not want to know,” Lucian interrupted shortly, and then glanced to Dante. “You said Mary was a psychologist before she retired?”
Dante nodded, surprised and a little confused by the question until Lucian said, “Then perhaps you could ask her to have a session or two with Bricker while she is here.”
“Ha ha,” Justin said dryly.
Lucian ignored him and added, “I shall pay for them out of my own pocket just to ensure he is well enough to be on the job . . . and carrying a weapon.”
“I shall mention it to her,” Dante said, amusement replacing his dismay.
“Hardy har, har,” Justin said dryly. “I drag myself away from my hot and sexy Holly to help out around here, and this is the appreciation I get?”
“Mary is a new life mate,” Mortimer pointed out as if Justin hadn’t spoken. “It might be better to call Lissianna’s husband, Greg. He is a psychologist, is he not?”
“Good thinking,” Lucian decided, pulling out his phone. “I shall call him now. In the meantime, Justin, drive Dante to the nearest store that would carry condoms.”
“Sure,” he said, rolling his eyes. Leading the way to the door, he added, “I’ll check the sense of humor aisle while I’m there and see if I can get you both one.”
“Check the brain aisle as well,” Lucian suggested. “I suspect you left yours there the last time you were shopping.”
Justin paused abruptly with his hand on the door and turned to stare at Lucian with amazement. “Did you just make a joke?”
“No,” Lucian said firmly.
“Yes, you did,” Justin countered, grinning. “It wasn’t a very good one, but you made a joke, Lucian. Holy shit, I never thought I’d see the day.” Pulling the door open, he walked out into the hall, shaking his head, and crooned, “Lucian Argeneau, cracking jokes. Well, I never!”
Dante stared after the man and then glanced back to Lucian, his eyebrows rising.
“Go ahead,” Lucian said on a sigh. “He is an idiot, but a good lad despite that.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Dante muttered and hurried out of the room after the other man.
Mary was out of bed and staring out the bedroom window when Dante returned from his quest for condoms.
“I have them,” he said triumphantly, holding up the bag holding the items as he entered.
Mary glanced to the bag, but then asked, “Where are we?”
Dante had tossed the bag on the bed and was pulling off his T-shirt, but paused with it off his head but still on his arms at that question. “What?”
“Where are we?” she repeated more slowly. “Last I knew we were in Texas, but judging by the amount of snow out there, this isn’t Texas. Where are we?”
“Oh.” He finished taking off his shirt and tossed it over one of the chairs. He then crossed the room to join her at the window. Slipping his arms around her from behind, Dante pulled her back against his chest and peered out at the snowy back yard. It was night, but between the house’s outdoor lights, the lights on the buildings behind the house, and his night vision, he was able to get a good look at the landscape. It was starting to warm a little as spring approached. There were patches of grass showing in spots, but it had been a hard winter and there was still a lot of snow out there.
Bending to press a kiss to the top of Mary’s head, he explained, “We are at the Enforcer House in Toronto.”
“Toronto?” she asked with amazement. “As in Ontario, Canada?” When he grunted a yes, she asked, “But how did we—?”
“We flew out an hour after the accident,” Dante said quietly. “We would have left sooner, but we had to pick up Bailey first.”
“How on earth did you get me through customs and immigration without a passport or my even being conscious?” Mary asked, sounding stunned. “And what did they say about my injuries? I mean they must have noticed my head all bent out of shape.”
“We have our own planes and do not go through customs and immigration,” he said with amusement.
Mary turned slightly and tilted her head to ask, “How do you manage that?”
Dante just raised an eyebrow and waited.
“Oh,” she murmured, after a moment. “Mind control and stuff.”
Nodding, he smiled and then kissed the tip of her nose. “It comes in quite handy in certain situations.”
“I guess,” Mary agreed dryly and turned to peer out the window again before murmuring, “Toronto.”
Something about the way she said the city’s name caught his attention and Dante glanced down at the top of her head, wishing he could see her expression. He couldn’t, however, so asked, “What are you thinking?”
“My daughter lives here,” she said softly. “Her husband’s company transferred him here four years ago and they moved. I’ve missed having her and the kids in Winnipeg. I don’t get to see them as much.”
“Oh,” Dante said, suspecting what was coming.
“I can see her while we’re here,” Mary said and he could hear the smile in her voice at the thought, and then she added, “I haven’t see her since Christmas. Both of my kids and their families flew down to Texas for Christmas this year. I rented a house by the RV camp and we all stayed there for two weeks, enjoying the beach and visiting. It was lovely and I was thinking of detouring this way to visit them on the way home, but I—”
“Mary,” he interrupted softly.
She paused and went still, and then her tone was wary when she said, “What?”
Dante suspected he’d given away something with his tone, perhaps pity or regret. He was feeling both right now. But it had to be said. “Mary, you cannot see your daughter.”
Now she went stiff. “What do you mean? Of course I can.”
Her tone was brusque and short. She was not going to take this easily, he thought unhappily, and withdrew his arms from around her to grasp her shoulders and turn her to face him. Meeting her gaze, he asked solemnly, “How will you explain the changes you have gone through? Your new youthful appearance? The new silver tint to your eye color?”
Mary glared at him resentfully, obviously not appreciating the question, but said, “Well, I’ll just explain about immortals and—”
“You cannot tell her about us,” he interrupted firmly. “Keeping our existence from the rest of world is a necessity. It is how we have survived so long as a people. If mortals knew we existed, fear alone would make them hunt us down and—”
“You told me,” Mary interrupted almost accusingly.
“Yes, but you are my life mate,” Dante pointed out solemnly. “I hoped to turn you. If the situation had arisen where you refused to be my life mate, I would have had to let Lucian wipe your mind of all memory of me and everything I told you.”
“He can do that?” she asked with alarm.
“We can do that,” Dante said gently. “Including you. You are one of us now, Mary.”
She frowned slightly, and then shook her head. “Well, that’s all right, and I can still tell her. I want to turn her. I want to turn her husband and children too, and my son and his—”
“You cannot,” Dante interrupted and hated himself for having to do so. He was quite sure if their places were reversed, he would wish to do the same with his family. However, it just wasn’t possible. “Mary, each of us is allowed only one turn. It is necessary,” he added firmly. “If every turn, turned every loved one, we would soon outstrip mortals in number.”
“So?” she snapped impatiently.
“So whom would we feed on?” Dante asked practically and saw the revulsion that immediately crossed her face. “I am sorry, but that is reality. Your reality now.”
Mary swallowed and shook her head, but then said, “Fine. But I can turn one?”
“Each immortal can turn one individual in their life,” he agreed quietly, already knowing where this was going. “They usually save it for their life mate.”
“You’re my life mate, though,” she pointed out. “So I want to turn my daughter.”
“It is your choice,” he said mildly. “However, you have to gain her permission first, and she then would have to leave her husband and children behind.”
“She can turn her husband,” Mary said at once, and then added, “And he can use his one turn for his oldest daughter, who can use her turn on her sister, who can turn my son, her uncle, who can turn his wife, who can turn their son.” She smiled triumphantly. “And then we can all be immortal.”
“What if your daughter’s husband is not her life mate?” he pointed out.
“They’re married,” she said with a laugh.
“That does not mean they are life mates,” Dante said solemnly. “And if he is not, life together would be unbearable.”
“They love each other and live together now,” Mary pointed out. “They would be fine.”
“They may be fine living together as mortals, but that would not be the case if they were immortals and not life mates,” he assured her. “It is difficult to live with someone when you can hear their every thought.”
“But if they were both immortal—”
“Then they would both hear every thought the other had about them,” Dante said solemnly.
“You mean you guys can always read each other?” Mary asked with surprise. “It isn’t just a new life mate thing?”
Dante hesitated. He’d really been looking forward to getting back here with the condoms and actually using them. However, that wasn’t looking very likely if he had to explain—Sighing, he pushed those thoughts away. This was important to Mary. He needed to explain, “Immortals can read each other if they do not guard their thoughts. If they are guarding their thoughts, it is impossible to read immortals who are older than themselves, and harder, but not impossible to read the thoughts of immortals about their age or younger than themselves. We quickly learn to guard our thoughts, but it takes constant effort and can be exhausting, and immortals often end up avoiding spending time with each other because of this. Life then can become very lonely if they stay by themselves, or heartbreaking if they befriend mortals who age, sicken and die so quickly in comparison to us. It has led to immortals going rogue and doing things they should not,” he added solemnly. “And that is why we have hunters, or Enforcers.”
“That is also why life mates are so important to us,” he continued without giving her a chance to interrupt. “A life mate is the one person, mortal or immortal, that we cannot read and who cannot read us. We can relax together and enjoy each other without the need to constantly guard our thoughts.”
“If you turn your daughter and she turns her husband and they are not life mates, they would not long stay together. Worse yet, each of them would then be consigned to a life alone with no hope of ever turning a life mate should they meet one.” Dante paused briefly to let that sink in and then added, “And just by the very fact of forcing your grandchildren to turn each other, each of them would lose their opportunity to ever turn a life mate. They would all be left to live a very long, very lonely life with no hope of respite except through death or going rogue.”
Mary’s shoulders dropped miserably. “Isn’t there any way—?”
“No,” he cut her off solemnly. “Each immortal can turn only one. And if you tell your family without the intention of turning them . . .” He paused, his mouth firming. “Well, it would be a wasted effort. Lucian would send a group of Enforcers to ensure their minds were wiped of the memory. And then he would have you locked up in the cells in that building you probably noticed at the back of the property until you could be judged by the council.”
“Judged?” she asked weakly. “What would they do?”
Dante shrugged. “I do not know for certain. I suspect they would search your thoughts to see if you were likely to be a future threat to keeping our presence in the world a secret. If not, they might just keep you locked up for a while.”
“But if they thought I was?” she asked with a frown.
“They might simply perform a three on one and wipe your family and past from your memory, or . . .”
“Or?” Mary prompted, when he paused.
“Or, they might terminate you,” Dante admitted on a sigh, and then added, “I, of course, would try to stop them, would no doubt be killed in the effort, and we would both be dead.”
Mary gaped at him at this prediction, and then they both glanced to the door as someone knocked on it.
Sighing, Dante released Mary and turned to cross the room and answer it. His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed warily when he saw Lucian in the hall. If the man read his mind and got wind of the discussion he’d interrupted—
“In his report, Russell mentioned that Mary lost her RV and all her possessions in the RV explosion,” Lucian said abruptly.
“Si. She lost everything except the clothes she was wearing and they were badly damaged too,” Dante admitted. “We were going to take her out to buy clothes, but then the kidnappers took her and . . .” He shrugged.
Lucian nodded. “Bastien will arrange for new ID and bank accounts for her. He’ll put in a sum to cover everything she lost, but he needs to know what name to put on the ID and accounts, and what birth date Mary wants. She cannot use her original birth date or the name Winslow anymore,” he pointed out.
“Right,” Dante said with a frown. “I will have to talk to her about that.”
Lucian nodded. “Do that. In the meantime, she will need clothes. We shall have to take her shopping. Would you prefer to do it first thing in the morning before retiring? Or in the afternoon after waking?”
“We?” Dante asked, his voice almost strangled with surprise. Lucian was not the sort to enjoy shopping for women’s clothes, he was sure.
But Lucian nodded. “You and Mary, Russell, Francis and myself.”
“Oh,” he said weakly.
Lucian waited patiently, but when Dante just continued to stare at him, his mind in an uproar, he said, “Late afternoon it is then,” and turned to walk away, leaving Dante staring after him.
Mary stared at Dante’s back. She couldn’t see who was at the door—Dante’s wide back was blocking her view—but she didn’t really care. She didn’t even care enough to listen to what was being said and she no doubt could have heard with her super duper new hearing, but she couldn’t be bothered. Her mind was spinning with all she’d lost.
She’d thought losing her husband last year had been a big blow, but losing her children and grandchildren, her entire remaining family and all her friends in one go? And if her being turned was the cause of her loss, then it had happened in basically the same area of Texas where she’d lost her husband last year, she realized, taking note of the irony.
But Dante had turned her to save her life, Mary reminded herself quietly. If he hadn’t she would be dead, which would have lost her everything anyway, and in a more permanent way. But now she had her life, if a slightly different one that included the need for blood. And she had Dante. And she could still see her children and grandchildren from afar, and check their Facebook and twitter accounts to see how they were. She just could not actually speak to them or hold them in her arms again, comfort them when they suffered life’s setbacks or losses, or encourage them when—
Turning sharply to the window, Mary dashed a sudden spate of tears from her eyes and took a deep breath. She was being a stupid, ungrateful old fool. She had been given a gift here that most would kill for. She had a young and healthy body again with no aches or pains, no failing sight, no pills for blood pressure or cholesterol.
She also had a strong, handsome man who she had mind-blowing sex with, literally, and who saw her as the holy grail of women. A man who wanted her for his life mate and had admitted just moments ago that he’d die for her.
And, she could have babies with him too with this new improved body, Mary reminded herself. But even that did not ease the pain of losing the children and grandchildren she already had, and she knew it never would. While she’d loved every dog she’d had in her life, none had replaced the one she’d had and lost before it.
But they had helped ease the pain a bit, Mary thought suddenly. Perhaps the distraction of a baby would help see her through not being able to see her children and grandchildren except through their Facebook posts.
The psychologist in Mary knew at once that that was a bad idea, that it wouldn’t work to ease her loss, and in fact would simply add to her stress as new babies tended to do. But Mary was a woman first and didn’t want to listen to the more reasonable and educated side of her brain. She suddenly just wanted a baby to hold in her arms, one that was born immortal and could not be taken away from her.
“Mary?” Dante said softly and she whirled to see that the door was closed and he was crossing the room to join her again.
Mary didn’t even think, she just slipped the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders and let the gown drop to pool around her feet. “Let’s make a baby.”
Dante stopped walking and blinked. “What?”
Stepping out of the puddle of cloth, Mary moved to him and slipped her arms up around his shoulders to try to tug his head down for a kiss. When he resisted, a frown marring his perfect face, she grabbed his hand and dragged him the few steps to one of the chairs by the window and quickly stepped up on the seat so that she could reach his mouth.
“Mary,” he said on a laugh, trying to avoid her lips when she tried to kiss him. “What—?”
“I want a baby,” she said almost desperately. “Please, Dante.”
“But, Mary, you said—” He paused and gasped when she gave up on trying to kiss him, and instead reached down to find and squeeze him through the thick cloth of his jeans. Shaking his head, he groaned helplessly, “But I got the condoms.”
“We don’t need them,” she assured him, unsnapping his jeans with her free hand and then lowering the zipper. “I want a baby.”
“But Mary, you—I—” His efforts to speak died abruptly as she got his jeans open, freeing his quickly growing erection. When she caught it in her hand and squeezed gently, he gave up arguing on a growl and covered her mouth with his own.
Breathing her relief into his mouth, Mary kissed him back and continued to caress him, her own body responding to the touch and telling her just how much pressure to apply, what speed felt best. It was a wonderful trick, allowing her to bring them both quickly to the brink. But when Mary realized she was about to push them both over the edge into orgasm with him not even in her, she quickly released him and broke their kiss.
Ignoring Dante’s groan of disappointment, Mary urged him back a step, and got off the chair to stand on the floor in front of him. She then immediately turned and bent forward, bracing herself on the arms of the chair now with her behind nudging against his erection.
“Hurry Dante,” she urged. “Give me a baby.”
Dante clasped her hips and she waited, bracing herself for his thrust, but it never came. He just held her. Mary glanced over her shoulder, scowling when she saw the frown on his face. He was thinking when he should be doing.
“Dante,” she said impatiently. “We can’t make a baby that way.”
His gaze shifted to her and then something like determination crossed his face, and he shifted his hands to grab her by the waist.
Relieved, Mary started to turn forward again, and then gasped in surprise when instead of entering her, he simply picked her up and set her to stand on the chair again, still with her back to him. She frowned and glanced around then. Dante was a lot taller than her and she supposed it would have been awkward for him with them both standing on the floor. Still, surely this put her up too high?
Mary had barely had the thought when he urged her feet further apart until they were on the very edges of the chair. She thought he was trying to arrange her so that she was at the right height for penetration, but he startled her by then squeezing his wide chest under and between her legs to sit in the chair facing her.
“What—?” she began with confusion, than gasped when he caught her butt cheeks in each hand and pulled her forward. Mary cried out with surprise and grabbed at the wall, then cried out again as his mouth was suddenly between her spread legs, his tongue thrusting where she’d wanted his erection.
“No!” Mary cried with a dismay that quickly turned to need. “Oh God, yes . . . no . . . yes . . . Oh Dante,” she cried, bracing one hand on the wall behind the chair and tangling the other in his hair as he began to lick and suck at the nub of her excitement.
Apparently, the shared pleasure made it easy for him to know just exactly what to do to push them over that edge they’d been approaching before she’d stopped too. Dante didn’t stop, though, he just pushed until they both rode over the falls and dropped into the dark waters waiting below.
Mary was slumped in Dante’s lap on the chair, her legs on either side of his and her head on his shoulder, when she woke from their post-noncoital encounter. He was already awake, something she deduced from the fact that he was rubbing her back soothingly. Mary lay still for a moment, both enjoying the caress and avoiding having to face him. But it seemed she didn’t fool him. Dante knew she was awake, which she deduced when his hands stilled and he spoke.
“Do you want to explain what just happened?”
Mary reluctantly sat up, but feigned ignorance. “It’s usually referred to as oral sex. Although one of my patients said it’s called having a box lunch now, or alternately a Bikini Burger or a Cherry Flip.” She paused and grimaced before admitting, “He has a thing for looking up such words online and was always coming into his appointments with risqué lists of slang terms.”
“Was his name Bricker?” Dante asked, his eyes narrowing.
“No,” she answered, and frowned. “I can’t tell you the name of my patients, Dante, even if they aren’t my patients anymore. That would be unethic—”
“Never mind,” Dante interrupted. “Of course it was not him. You are from Winnipeg and he has not even been there that I know of.”
She tilted her head curiously at that, wondering who this Bricker was that he was talking about.
“Anyway,” he said, “that’s not what I meant when I asked you to explain. I do know it was oral sex, Mary,” he added dryly. “I meant why the sudden desire for a baby when less than an hour ago you were determined we should not have one and made me go out and find condoms?”
Mary’s mouth twitched with amusement at the complaint in his voice, and then she sighed and sat up a little straighter.
“I’ve changed my mind is all,” she responded. “I want a baby now.”
“Why?” he asked at once.
Mary shrugged and glanced unhappily away.
“They will not replace the children you already have,” he said solemnly.
Her lower lip trembled and she bit it, and then lowered her head. “I know, but—”
“Tesoro,” Dante interrupted. Catching her chin, he turned her to face him before saying, “I would be happy to give you a baby if you want.”
“You will?” she asked uncertainly.
He nodded solemnly. “You are my life now. My future. My love. I will give you anything you want if it is within my power.”
Mary stared at him, his words circling in her mind. The “my love” part really got her attention, but even it was not enough to distract her from her desire for a baby, and she asked plaintively, “Then why didn’t you—?”
“Because I will not do so until I am sure it is what you truly want and—”
“It is,” she interrupted impatiently.
“And,” he continued grimly, “That this sudden desire is not merely an emotional response to the realization that you can no longer be an active part of the lives of the children you already have.”
When she stared at him with frustration, Dante said gently, “It is not the right reason to bring a child into the world, Mary. And I do not ever want a child of mine thinking they are a substitute for your mortal children.”
Mary flinched at the words and then closed her eyes on a sigh. “No. I don’t either,” she agreed sadly.
They were both silent for a minute, and then she slipped off of his lap to go collect her nightgown from the floor. As she bent to pick it up, Mary decided she needed a change of subject to get her mind off this sad topic and asked, “What does tesoro mean?”
“Treasure,” Dante answered, standing to tuck himself away and do up his jeans.
“Really?” Mary asked, her expression softening.
“Si. It is most often used like dear,” he murmured, reclaiming the chair. “But you are my treasure, Mary.”
She could feel herself blushing, and glanced down to the nightgown she held. As she quickly pulled it over her head, Mary asked, “Whose nightgown is this?”
“Yours now,” Dante said, watching her don the gown. When she poked her head through the neck and glanced to him in question, he explained, “They keep many things here for guests that might have to stay at the Enforcer House unexpectedly. There are pajamas, nightgowns, jeans and T-shirts . . .” He shrugged. “I picked that nightgown, but was not sure of your size, so you will have to pick the jeans and tops. I did get you a razor, hairbrush, toothpaste, and toothbrush from the storage room though.”
“Thank you,” Mary whispered, surprised by his thoughtfulness.
He shrugged and patted his leg. When she moved back to him, he drew her to sit sideways in his lap and then said solemnly, “The council has agreed to buy you a whole new wardrobe. They also intend to refund you the money for the RV and everything you lost. They will put it in a bank account for you and arrange ID for you just as soon as you tell them what name and birth date you wish them to use.”
Mary eyed him uncertainly. “Can I not use my name?”
“You can use your first name and maybe your middle name if you have one. As for your last name . . .” He hesitated and then said, “Most try to avoid the name they are known as in their mortal life. Or they include it but alternate it.”
“What do you mean?” she asked uncertainly. “Like Windy Mary or something instead of Mary Winslow?”
“No,” he said with a laugh. “For instance, Francis was Francis Renart and Russell was Russell Argeneau-Jones. Argeneau was Russell’s mother’s maiden name. She kept it as part of her name when she married and took the surname Jones so that they were Argeneau-Jones. But we tend to have to change our names every ten years when we change identities and she and her husband alternated between Jones and Argeneau. Russell and Francis consider themselves Renart Argeneau Jones, but alternate between Renart, Jones and Argeneau on their ID when they have to change it.”
“Oh,” she said with a frown. “So I could be Mary Winslow Bonher.”
“Boner?” Dante asked, his voice a bit choked.
“Bon-her,” Mary said dryly and spelled it out before explaining, “It’s my maiden name.”
“Ah,” he nodded. “Well, yes, of course you could use Bonher. As for Winslow . . .” Dante cleared his throat. “I thought perhaps Notte instead.”
Mary stilled, her eyes meeting his.
“It will be Notte eventually,” he said quietly. “When you are ready to make it so.”
Flushing, she nodded and glanced down, then lifted her head right back up and asked, “What about my birthday? They want a different year, of course?”
He nodded. “Some keep their original day and month and just switch the year, but others change the day and month to the day they were turned.”
“Hmmm,” she murmured, thinking about that. Should she have a completely new birth date for a new life? Or should she settle for just a new birth year?
“You have a little time to think about it,” Dante said reassuringly, his hand moving over her back.
“How little?” Mary asked.
“I would say you should decide by the time we go shopping tomorrow,” he suggested. “Lucian will demand to know then.”
“Lucian?” she asked with surprise. “He’s going shopping with us?”
“Si, the council is paying for the clothes you lost, so he is accompanying us tomorrow to buy you a wardrobe suitable for a warm climate.”
“Oh,” Mary muttered, so dismayed at the thought of having to go shopping with Lucian that it took a moment for the rest of his words to sink in. When they did, she glanced to him sharply. “A warm climate?”
Dante nodded, and Mary just stared at him with bewilderment. It was still winter and cold. There was still snow on the ground, she thought, and then her eyes widened as a thought occurred to her. “Venezuela?”
He nodded again, a crooked smile spreading his lips.
“But I thought Lucian insisted you shouldn’t go?” Mary asked.
“Si, but he has relented. He thinks that your presence will temper my nature and prevent me doing anything stupid,” Dante said wryly and then admitted, “And he is right. I will not do anything to jeopardize my future with you.” Lifting his hands, he cupped her face and said, “Tu sei un dono del cielo. Con te voglio passare la ma vita.”
Mary raised a hand to cover one of his and said softly, “I don’t know what that means, but if it’s your way of trying to get under my nightgown, it’s working.”
Dante chuckled at her candor and kissed her nose. “I said that you are a gift from the heavens.” He pressed a light kiss to her lips then and added, “And with you I want to spend my life.”
“Oh,” Mary breathed. “Wow, you Italians sure know how to romance a gal.”
Dante shook his head on a laugh and pressed his forehead to hers. “You, amore mio, are easy.”
“Apparently I am,” she agreed wryly, and then added seriously, “for you.”
Dante paused, his expression becoming serious as well.
Mary cleared her throat and squeezed his hand, then suggested, “If we are going shopping in the morning, then we probably need to sleep soon. Perhaps you should show me what you bought.”
His eyebrows rose in brief confusion, and then his eyes widened with excitement and he jumped quickly to his feet.
Mary immediately squawked in alarm, sure she was about to hit the floor, but he caught her against his chest and carried her swiftly to the bed. Setting her down to stand next to it, Dante turned to grab the brown bag he’d returned with earlier.
“You will not believe what I found,” he said with excitement as he opened the bag. “I did not know they had so many varieties of condom. Do you know they come dotted, ribbed, studded and flavored? Truly, flavored,” he assured her when Mary raised her eyebrows slightly.
“And then they have for her pleasure and his pleasure,” Dante went on, upending the bag on the end of the bed next to Bailey. “Justin said those are shaped differently to pleasure him or her. Although there are some that say for his and her pleasure too, and then they had some with a lubricant that warms or goes cold or something.”
Mary stared with amazement at the pile of boxes on the bed and gasped, “Dear God, Dante, how many did you buy?”
“One of every kind,” he assured her.
“One box of each kind,” she muttered, and then pointed out, “There are at least ten or twelve in each box, and at least a dozen boxes.”
“Si, but we can pick up more when we go shopping tomorrow,” he assured her.
Mary just gaped at him with amazement. How many condoms did he think they were going to need, for heaven’s sake?
Apparently a lot, she decided, when Dante paused and frowned before asking, “Do you think it would be hard to find condoms in Venezuela? Perhaps I should see if they sell them in bulk somewhere so we may take enough for our stay.”
“Would there be enough room on the plane for them?” Mary asked dryly.
Much to her amazement, Dante took her seriously and waved the matter away as he bent to look through the boxes of condoms. “Oh, that is not a problem. We can have them shipped down on a cargo plane.”
“Dante,” Mary said quietly.
“Si?” He asked absently.
“Stop playing with your condoms and kiss me.”
Pausing, he dropped the boxes and straightened to catch her under the arms and lift her to stand on the bed beside the small hill of condoms. He didn’t kiss her then, but caught her nightgown and began lifting it slowly upward as he murmured, “You want me.”
“Si,” she said simply, using his word and gasping when his fingers brushed against her skin as they moved upward.
“You find me irresistible.”
“Si,” she admitted, raising her arms as he lifted the nightgown off over her head. The moment her hands were free, Mary reached for his T-shirt and began to tug it upward.
After tossing the nightgown aside, Dante helped her remove his shirt, then quickly shed his jeans as well before gesturing toward the pile of condom boxes. “Which one shall I wear for you first?”
Mary had never imagined a man would be so enthralled with condoms. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she bent down and grabbed the first box her hand touched and then held it out to him.
“Ohhhh, glow in the dark. Good choice,” Dante said with excitement and suddenly rushed away.
Mary stared after him with amazement, then relaxed when she realized he was turning out the lights. So she could better appreciate his glow in the dark penis when he donned the condom, she supposed. The man was over a hundred years old, but give him a glow in the dark condom and he turned into a twelve-year-old. Honestly, she thought with exasperation, and then gasped in surprise when she was suddenly tackled to the bed.
“Be careful of Bailey,” she squealed with dismay, reaching out to try to find the dog.
“I moved her after turning out the lights,” Dante said reassuringly as he crawled up her body. “I suspect things are going to get interesting on the bed and did not wish her harmed.”
“Oh,” Mary breathed, and then, “Ohhh,” as his hands began to move. Her last thought, before he stole her ability to think of anything but him, was that things were always interesting on the bed with Dante Notte . . . glow in the dark penis or not.