Chapter Eighteen

“Look, I don’t mean to be direct about this, but I have to be.”

As Silas sat up in his isolation bed, he stared Ivie right in the eye and crossed his arms over his chest. Refusing to lay back against the raised pillows, he was a re-inflation of himself, a resurrection to where he had been—almost. He had weight to regain. His stomach issues were persisting. He was on a ton of drugs.

But he was gloriously alive, wonderfully alert, and…

…as it turned out, horny.

“When can I make love to you?” he said.

Ivie sat on the bed beside him and couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Well, I’m assuming you can as soon as we get you out of here.”

“And when’s that going to be?”

Silas had skipped the petulant, sulky stage of recovery that some patients fell into and proceeded directly into Ready to Go. And not just about sex. He was ready to get back to his life, to their life together.

“I think within a week?”

The groan he let out was only partially comical. “This room is a fishbowl.”

“I know. But your immune system isn’t quite there yet. We’re close, so close, though. Hey, I don’t have to wear a suit and mask anymore. This is huge.”

The truly miraculous thing was that his transplant had somehow recalibrated his entire body, changing its basis, its very cellular identity. In the previous seven nights, Havers had reduced the amount of anti-rejection drugs in his system and they had discovered…that he appeared to need none at all: Blood tests and tissue samples had shown that the donor’s bone marrow and immune system had essentially “converted” Silas to the donor. So it wasn’t a case of host versus graft, but graft turning host into graft.

Doc Jane, as Ivie had come to know the Brotherhood’s special physician, had been astounded. She evidently had come out of the human tradition and had indicated the transformation was unprecedented in her experience.

But then again, vampires were a different species.

“I want to be alone with you.” Silas smiled. “For, like, a month straight.”

“That’s my plan, too.”

“I mean, I’ve appreciated this incredible level of support from everyone, but I’m ready to have you get frustrated with me for normal things like forgetting to recap the toothpaste, and not putting my dishes in the washer, and leaving my socks around our bedroom.”

Sometimes the miracle people prayed for was nothing more exotic than “normal.” And in the beginning, she had not trusted in the recalibration of things. She had waited for the other shoe to drop, the nightmare to return, the hell to be resumed.

With each passing evening, however, she was able to let more of that go. They still had a long road ahead of them, though. There was a lot of recovery before them, but the big stumbling blocks had all been passed, surmounted by Silas’s body’s incredible resilience.

And the wonderful thing? The donor had stopped by a number of times and they were going to see Ruhn out in the real world after they left. The male, once a stranger, felt like a part of them. Because, hello, without him, there was no “them.”

Pritchard had also been checking in, bringing reports from Silas’s affairs and house and land holdings. He had a lot of money, as it turned out. A lot of investments. A lot of real estate.

Also, a brother who he couldn’t find. But maybe that would come later.

Ivie certainly hoped so. There was an underlying sadness that this therapy had not been used to save Silas’s father—but at least it was an option for any other males who had the defect. And accordingly, both she and Silas were desperate to find his brother who was also a carrier.

On Ivie’s side, her father had been in to visit and so had her mahmen. But the rest of her family was holding off until Silas was out of the hospital and further along.

“You saved my life, Ivie,” he said.

“That was Havers, the doctors, and Ruhn.”

“No. You were the one I lived for. I fought for you. I could hear your voice, I could feel your presence—I held on to all that. Sometimes, I was tempted to give up and give in…but I knew you were fighting for me, for us, and I joined you in that battle. I love you, dearest Ivie.”

Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him and whispered, “I love you, too, my male.”

There were so many things to say, and hopes for the future, hopes and dreams now set to fly free. A world of possibility was now ahead of them, and it was as if stolen property had been returned to them, the precious jewel of time together back in their hands.

“And I can’t wait to make love with you, either,” she muttered. “It’s driving me nuts.”