Roni wasn't sure what he’d expected to feel right out of transition, but it sure as hell wasn’t an underwhelming sense of sameness.

He was still the old Roni. Same skinny arms peeking out from the sleeves of the hospital gown, same bony knees tenting the thin blanket, and the same flabby middle even though he was underweight. Without looking in the mirror it was hard to tell, but he had a feeling he’d lost even more weight and was scrawnier than ever.

His hopes for waking up with an amazing new body were crushed.

Except, if nothing had changed, why the hell was he so sore?

Roni ached all over as if he’d spent days stretched on the rack. Skin, muscles, tendons, they all felt too tight for his skeleton.

“You’re awake.” Dr. Bridget stated the obvious as she walked in and handed him a cup of water with a straw. “Congratulations. Welcome to immortality.”

He looked at the paper cup. “Shouldn’t a toast be made with champagne?”

“Pretend that it is.”

Pushing himself back on the hospital bed, Roni gulped greedily, moistening his dry throat. He still hadn’t asked the most important question. “How long have I been out?”

“Almost three days.”

He whistled. “That long?”

She nodded.

“Fuck, Sylvia must be worried. Where is she?”

“I sent her up to get some sleep.”

Disappointing. He had fantasized about Sylvia watching over him throughout the transition.

His expression must’ve revealed his thoughts because Bridget added, “We knew you were doing fine and that there was nothing to worry about.”

“How did you know that I was? Three days in a coma doesn't sound okay to me.”

Bridget smiled. “You were growing. That’s an excellent indicator that your body was working hard at transitioning. It needed to divert all its energy to the rapid growth.”

Grimacing, Roni lifted his arm. “Does this look bigger to you?”

She whipped out a measuring tape, wrapped it around his bicep, and noted the measurement on her tablet. “You lost three-quarters of an inch of muscle.”

He let his arm plop at his side. “That’s what I thought.”

“But.” Bridget lifted her hand. “You gained an inch in height, bringing you to an impressive six foot two. Your shoulders are also wider by nearly one and a half inches.”

That explained the aches and pains. “No wonder I feel like I’ve been stretched on the rack. Everything hurts.”

“I can give you something for the pain.”

“Please, but none of those mind-bending drugs. Plain ibuprofen will do. I’m the ultimate anti-macho guy, and I welcome pain relief whenever possible, but I hate mental fog. I’d rather suffer than compromise my brain.”

She patted his hand. “I wasn’t going to offer you anything stronger than that. There is no need. Do you want me to call Sylvia?”

Duh. “Please.”

Bridget picked up the bedside phone and dialed. “Your guy is awake, and he is asking for you.”

There was a happy squeal on the other side. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

It took him a moment to realize that Sylvia sounded as if she had been talking on a speakerphone, but he knew she hadn’t. The phone was right there where he could see whether the button was lit. “Unbelievable. The hearing, I mean.”

Bridget nodded. “Do you want to test your eyesight?”

“Sure.”

She pointed to a chart on the wall. “Can you read the small print at the bottom?”

Even though the lights were dimmed and the writing was small, he could read it easily. “Amazing. Can you dim the lights even more? I wonder if I can still read it in near darkness.”

Bridget did as he asked, lowering the switch all the way down. “Give it a go.”

He squinted a little. “I can still read it.”

“What about smells?”

He sniffed. “I like your perfume. What is it?”

Bridget chuckled. “Not this kind of scent. I meant the more subtle ones. What do I smell like under the perfume?”

Roni closed his eyes and concentrated. “Happy. You smell happy and excited.”

It was so weird to be able to detect the smell and even weirder to recognize it for what it was—kind of like taste. You knew sweet when you tasted it.

The other scent, however, was not something one mentioned to one’s doctor. Roni felt his cheeks heat up but went ahead anyway. “And horny. I’m sorry, but you asked.”

He was quite sure the doctor’s arousal had nothing to do with him. After all, she’d seen him in all his unimpressive glory. Besides, it would’ve been uber awkward otherwise.

Bridget was hot, but he was taken.

Her laugh was as happy as her scent. “You are right on both counts.”

She didn’t elaborate, which left him with an uneasy feeling. He had to find out. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Bridget lifted a brow. “Do you need to ask?”

Wow, talk about a big surprise. Roni didn’t know whether he should feel flattered or threatened. On second thoughts, he was definitely flattered. Maybe that extra inch was what made all the difference.

But then the rush of excitement helped clear the last tendrils of fog from his brain, and he slapped his hand over his forehead. Evidently, the three-day coma had affected his memory.

Turner.

When the guy had gone missing, Bridget had called Brundar, asking for his help. In turn, Brundar had dragged Roni out of bed and asked him to hack into several security cameras. Roni had managed to get the camera feed from Turner’s last known location, the entrance to the fancy restaurant he’d dined at that evening.

As they’d all watched Turner exit the place, get stabbed, then pushed into his own car and driven away by a fake valet, Bridget had sobbed openly.

She was way too cool of a chick to cry over an acquaintance. Obviously, the two were lovers.

“Turner, right?”

“And the prize goes to the recently-transitioned guy on the bed.”

“How is he doing? All better now?”

“He is. Didn’t you see him at your transition ceremony? He was there from the beginning to right after you passed out.”

“I was a bit busy being scared shitless and trying to keep from soiling my pants while reciting slam poetry.”

Bridget shook her head. “That stuff was awful. Did you write it yourself?”

“Yes, but most of it was based on gangster rap. Disgustingly offensive stuff, and coming from me it’s saying a lot. I have a dirty mouth, but nothing like that.”

Roni didn’t want Bridget to think of him as someone who even listened to lyrics that insulted women and glorified violence. “It felt bad spouting that crap. But I had no choice. It wasn’t as if I could have spurred Kian’s aggressions with my nonexistent fighting skills. He suggested I use slam poetry instead because he detests it. I forced myself through it, and it worked. I made him angry enough to produce venom. Potent stuff too. Much better than that of the other guys.”

As far as he knew, Roni was the only Dormant who’d required four bites from four different immortal males to transition, starting with Andrew, then Onegus, then Brundar, and ending with Kian—whose bite had finally done the trick.

Apparently, that piqued Bridget’s curiosity, and she lifted her tablet. “Tell me about the differences. Were the effects produced by the other bites similar to each other, and only Kian’s was different? Or was each bite unique?”

Concentrating, Roni tried to remember the details, which wasn’t easy given that after each bite his brain had gone on a pleasant vacation to la-la land. But one thing he was sure of—Kian’s had been the best.

“Andrew’s was the weakest. I don’t think he gave me enough before retracting his fangs. This was his first aggressive bite against a male, and he was probably afraid to overdose me, accidentally killing me. Onegus’s and Brundar’s were almost the same, except Brundar’s hurt less, which was a big surprise. The dude is scary, but his bite was gentle and precise. He has incredible control.”

“What about Kian?”

Roni smiled. “The difference between his and the others is what I would imagine the difference between pot and acid is. After the other bites, I had a short pleasant trip to dreamland. After Kian’s bite, I soared through psychedelic landscapes and felt one with the universe. That’s the best way I can describe it, but it doesn't do the trip justice. His wife is one lucky lady.”

Bridget’s wince lasted a split second, but Roni caught it. Damn, he should’ve kept his big yap shut. All the immortal females were yearning for an immortal male’s bite, but only a few had been lucky enough to score one.

Actually, there were only three. Kri, Amanda, and Carol. Though only Amanda and Kri had the real deal—a truelove mate. Carol and Robert had gone their separate ways.

Eva hadn’t known what she was, let alone about the ecstasy of an immortal male’s bite. Syssi had started out as a clueless human, and so had Nathalie, Callie, and Tessa.

Roni would have known none of that if it were not for Sylvia who kept him updated on the keep’s gossip. As it was, he knew the stories and the names of the participants but not the people involved. Getting to know everyone in his new family was going to be a slow process. Luckily, he now had all the time in the world, and Sylvia was the fourth clan female to score an immortal male—him.

The full impact of what had happened to him finally hit home.

He was immortal.

“When will I get my fangs?”

Bridget patted his shoulder. “Patience, Roni. Don’t expect to bite your girlfriend anytime soon. Your fangs will take a few weeks to grow, and it will take even longer before you’ll be producing venom. You can talk to Andrew and Michael. They can share their experiences with you.”

Poor Sylvia. She’d waited so patiently for him to transition, and now she would have to wait even longer for the coveted venom bite.

Bummer.