Abigail opened her eyes to a rose-colored room with colonial furnishings and quickly closed her eyes, then opened them again. When she was still in a rose-colored room with colonial furnishings, she immediately checked to see that she wasn’t chained down or otherwise restricted. Much to her relief, Abigail was unfettered except for an IV leading to a nearly empty bag of blood that hung from a stand next to the bed.

The sight of the IV reminded her of being shot, and Abigail quickly lifted the duvet and sheets covering her to check her chest, but there wasn’t much to see. She was all healed. All that remained to even show she’d been shot were three puckered scars. Abigail suspected those would soon be gone too.

Sighing, she closed her eyes again and shook her head wryly. She seemed to be forever waking up in different places. Even in her dreams she—Oh, hey! Was this another dream? Abigail wondered and opened her eyes again, but wasn’t sure how she would tell. There should be signs in dreams to give you the heads-up, she thought. A poster board on the wall that said something like, “This is a dream. Enjoy!” would be good.

The bedroom door opening drew her attention, and Abigail felt a smile claim her lips as she watched Tomasso enter carrying a tray with various items on it. He eased the door closed with his foot, and then took the tray to a small table with two chairs that sat by the window. Balancing the tray on one hand, he carefully set out the items on the tray: two covered plates, two cups, a pot of something steaming, and two glasses of what looked like water. Silverware followed and finally a single rose in a bud vase. Once the last item was off the tray, Tomasso stepped back and eyed the table as if considering the quality of his presentation.

“It’s lovely,” Abigail said and Tomasso jerked around in surprise.

“You are awake,” he murmured, setting the tray on the end of the bed as he walked over to peer down at her.

“Yes.” She smiled wryly. “And once again I’m waking up in a new place.”

Tomasso frowned. “There was only the villa and now here.”

“No,” Abigail assured him with a faint smile. “Since meeting you I’ve woken up on the floor of a cargo plane, on a beach, in a shower, in the bedroom in the villa, and now here.”

“In a shower?” he asked uncertainly.

“It was a dream,” she explained. “It started in the shower.”

“Ah. Yes, I remember now,” Tomasso murmured and when Abigail peered at him with confusion, explained, “We shared that dream.”

“We did?” she asked blankly. Was that even possible?

“Shared dreams are another symptom of life mates,” he explained.

“Really?” Abigail asked with amazement.

“Sì.”

“Oh.”

Abigail was trying to decide how she felt about that when Tomasso asked, “Are you hungry? I thought you might wake soon so . . .” He turned to wave to the table he’d so carefully arranged.

“Yes, I think I am,” Abigail admitted and sat up, only to pause as she remembered that she was naked under the sheets and duvet covering her.

“A robe,” Tomasso murmured and moved to a closet to quickly retrieve a silky white robe. Carrying it back, he held it up expectantly.

Abigail hesitated, but then decided it was foolish to be shy after everything they’d done together. Besides, he’d probably been the one to strip her. Taking a deep breath, she quickly tossed the sheets and duvet aside and scrambled out of bed to slip her arms into the robe. Abigail couldn’t prevent the blush that covered her from head to toe as she did though.

Tomasso helped her on with the robe, sliding it up her arms and even reaching around to close it and tie the sash in front. Abigail half expected him to take the opportunity to kiss her neck and slide his hands over her body as he usually did, but that didn’t happen. In fact, he was surprisingly businesslike about the matter, as chaste as if he were dressing a child.

A little surprised, Abigail moved to the table when he urged her that way and settled in the chair he held for her. She eyed him a little uncertainly, though, as he removed the silver warming covers on the plates and set them aside, and then moved to claim the chair opposite hers.

“Where are we?” she asked finally when Tomasso didn’t even glance her way, but picked up the water by his plate and took a sip.

Tomasso swallowed as he set the glass back and said, “Toronto.”

“As in Canada?” she asked slowly.

He nodded and picked up his fork, his gaze on his plate of food. Abigail glanced down to see what captivated his attention so fully and saw that he had spaghetti and meatballs, a Caesar salad, and garlic bread piled high on his plate. Her gaze then dropped to her own plate to see that it held a bowl with some kind of soup in it. An invalid’s meal, but she didn’t feel like an invalid. She felt pretty normal actually and would have preferred some real food, the kind you had to chew. For instance, the contents of his plate were looking tasty, she thought, but returned her attention to Tomasso again and asked, “Why?”

“Why what?” he asked uncertainly.

“Why are we in Canada?” she elaborated.

“Oh.” His gaze dropped to his plate again. “Because—” Tomasso stopped and frowned at his spaghetti.

“Because?” Abigail urged.

Sighing, he set his fork back on the table and stared at his plate as he admitted, “Because I feared you would not wish to wake up in the villa when it so closely resembled where you had been . . . taken.”

Abigail’s eyes narrowed. His hesitation before using the word taken was very odd, as was the fact that he had seemed reluctant to even explain. And why wouldn’t he look at her? She frowned briefly and then her eyes widened.

“He didn’t rape me, Tomasso,” she said quickly.

“Perhaps not, but he sexually assaulted you,” Tomasso responded soberly.

“No. He didn’t,” Abigail assured him. “He never touched me.”

“He used his dart gun,” he argued and she blew a raspberry.

“He ran his dart gun up my leg a bit is all,” Abigail said with exasperation, and then admitted, “It wasn’t pleasant, but it was far and away from rape. I didn’t feel violated so much as pissed off. Now if it had been his hand . . .” She shuddered at the very thought of that creep touching her that way, and then shook her head. “But he didn’t. I’m fine. Really. There was no need to leave the resort.” Abigail paused and scowled before adding, “And I wish you’d look at me. Your refusal to do so makes me feel like you now see me as dirty somehow.”

“No. Never,” Tomasso said firmly, finally looking at her. “You are an angel. It would not have mattered if Jake had raped you, you would still be an angel in my eyes. I was trying not to look at you because . . .” He paused, hesitated, and then cursed and stood up. He then just stood there waiting as if the action should explain everything. When Abigail just peered at him in confusion, not comprehending, he gestured to his groin with both hands, arrowing them toward the spot as he bent his knees. “Because this is what you do to me.”

Abigail lowered her gaze to the area he was framing and felt her eyebrows crawl up her forehead. The man’s pants were bulging out as if his penis was trying to erect a tent in them.

“And I feared,” Tomasso continued, “that after what happened you may not be ready to—You might need some time to—” He paused helplessly, and Abigail stood quickly and moved around the table to throw her arms around him.

“You are the most wonderful man,” she breathed, squeezing him tightly.

Tomasso stilled, and then let his arms close carefully around her, almost as if he feared she would break. Voice uncertain, he asked, “I am?”

“Yes,” Abigail said, pulling back to meet his gaze, her expression solemn. “Few men would be so thoughtful and sweet. And few men are as smart and handsome and brave. I like you, Tomasso. I find you incredibly attractive in all ways and I respect you.”

Tomasso smiled slowly, and then, voice soft, said, “I love you too, Abigail.”

“I didn’t—” Abigail began with alarm, her face flushing, and then cut off the denial, because what else was love except that powerhouse combination of like, respect and attraction? After a moment, she nodded. “Okay, I love you.” Raising her head she added sadly, “But I don’t know how you can love me.”

“No?” He smiled crookedly. “Perhaps because I like, respect and find you most desirable too,” Tomasso said gently. “Because you’re beautiful, intelligent, brave, strong—”

“But that’s just it,” Abigail interrupted on a cry of despair. “I’m not strong. Not at all. My mother tried to raise me to be strong like her, but on the beach and then when I was sick at the villa I—” She paused, shamefaced, and then admitted, “I liked it when you took care of me. I felt safe and coddled and I liked it,” she admitted, sure that was probably feeble and shameful.

“Abigail,” Tomasso said with disbelief. “Do you really think you are weak because when you were ill you appreciated my taking care of you?” He didn’t let her answer, but pointed out, “You took care of your mother when she was ill, yet do not see her as weak.”

“Yes, but she was dying,” Abigail argued.

“So were you,” he countered firmly, and reminded her, “It is why I turned you.”

“Okay, but I liked it when you took care of me on the beach too. Bandaging my wound, catching fish and cooking it, bringing me coconuts so that I could drink the coconut water.”

“Bella,” Tomasso said with exasperation, “who tended my pene when it was all swollen and sore? Hmm? Who speared a fish and burnt—I mean cooked it for supper? And who brought me coconuts to drink from?” He shook his head and said gently, “I may have taken care of you when you were unconscious and then ill, but you did the same for me.” Grabbing her hands, he squeezed lightly and said, “That is a team, a healthy relationship. We work together. Sometimes I will be stronger. Sometimes you will. But together, we can get through anything.”

Abigail nodded slowly, acknowledging that he might be right, but then she shook her head and admitted, “But Tomasso, the whole time Jake and Sully had us I was wishing you’d come bursting in and rescue us. Or were even there with us, because I was sure you’d know what to do, that fear wouldn’t have held you back like it did me. I even had chances to make an escape attempt earlier, but I was afraid Jet would get hurt and didn’t have the balls to—”

“You do have balls,” Tomasso interrupted insistently, and then frowned as he realized what he’d said. “Well, not literally, thank God, but you do have them metaphorically speaking, and big hairy ones too,” he assured her. “You may have wished I would burst in and rescue you, but when I did not get there in time, you saved yourself. As well as Mary and Jet.” Taking her face in his hands, he said softly, “Abigail, you are the strongest woman I know. The strongest, and the kindest and most beautiful . . .” He shook his head. “I wish I could make you see yourself through my eyes, because to me you are everything.”

“A life mate,” she whispered, recalling his response to her question of what a life mate was.

“Sì.” Tomasso nodded. “A life mate is everything. She is the one person an immortal cannot read or control. She is the one person he can relax and be around without fear of his own thoughts being read or his actions controlled. She is the one who suits him in all things. She is the one whose presence beats back the loneliness of a life otherwise lived alone. She is everything. She is you, Abigail. You are my life mate. You are my everything.”

“Oh.” Abigail blinked back the tears now glazing her eyes. “I do so love you, Tomasso Notte.”

Slipping his arms around her, Tomasso replied, “And I love you, Abigail Forsythe soon-to-be Notte.”

Her eyes widened slightly and then she chuckled. “You could at least propose or something. Most girls would be annoyed if a guy just presumed she’d marry him.”

His eyebrows rose with concern, but he said, “You do not seem annoyed.”

“I’m not most girls,” she countered wryly.

Tomasso nodded solemnly. “I do know that.”

His mouth came down to claim hers and Abigail rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him back, her arms sliding around his neck. She felt him tug the sash of her robe loose, and moaned into his mouth, her body shivering with pleasure as his hands moved possessively over her naked flesh. When he suddenly broke their kiss and picked her up by the waist, Abigail wrapped her legs around his hips, and then glanced over his shoulder and noted the food waiting on the table as he moved away from it.

“What about the food?” she asked with a frown.

Tomasso paused and glanced to her with uncertainty. “Are you hungry?”

“A bit,” Abigail admitted, and then added shyly, “But I think I can wait a little while to eat.”

Tomasso smiled and continued toward the bed and Abigail glanced past him again, this time her gaze finding the window. Noting the snowy landscape outside, she wrinkled her nose and thought it was probably sunny and warm in Punta Cana right now. Caracas too, which made her wonder—“Why aren’t we in Caracas? That’s where the other kidnapped immortals are, isn’t it? Shouldn’t we be there helping to find them?”

“No. You should not be there,” he said firmly, and then added, “Because it is dangerous.”

When she began to look angry, he quickly added, “And not just for you and Mary. The pair of you need to learn to recognize your hunger before it becomes a problem. You also need to learn what you can and cannot do now physically, how to read and control minds and how to bring on your fangs to feed. You could be a danger to mortals otherwise.”

Abigail scowled over that, but could hardly argue the point. If she and Mary had been able to read and control minds they could have easily got themselves out of the clutches of the disgusting Jake and Sully. Or, she could have, she supposed, since Mary had been knocked out by the dart pretty quickly. She supposed they hadn’t used it on her right away because they’d suspected she wouldn’t yet have those skills, which suggested Jake and Sully knew a lot about immortals and how quickly they gained such skills. That thought made her wonder what would be done with the pair, but first she wanted to know—“Why Canada?”

Tomasso paused again, this time frowning with concern. “Are you feeling all right?”

Her eyebrows rose. “Yes. Why?”

“I already explained that I thought it best you not wake in the villa and—”

“Yes, I know, but I just wondered why Canada and not Texas or Italy or . . . ?” She shrugged. “Why Canada specifically?”

“Ah,” he said and smiled wryly. “Lucian arranged the flight. Jet had to come here for his training, and I have family here so it seemed the best choice at the time.”

“Oh,” she murmured and then asked, “Where will we live?”

Tomasso hesitated and then carried her the rest of the way to the bed and sat down on the side of it to settle her in his lap. He then said, “We can live wherever you wish. My home is in Italy, but I have been thinking of buying a condo in California and one here in Toronto to stay in when I visit family.”

“I notice you didn’t mention Texas,” Abigail pointed out.

Tomasso grimaced. “Texas could be a problem. Only because you have friends and acquaintances there who might pick up on subtle differences in you now that you have turned. The silver in your eyes, for instance,” he added, and then said, “However, we could live in Texas. Just perhaps not where you grew up. It is better to avoid that area.”

She nodded in understanding and was considering that when he said, “Of course, we can live somewhere else too if your schooling calls for it.”

Stiffening, Abigail raised her gaze to his again. “Schooling?”

“You should finish medical school, Abigail,” he said quietly. “From the way you bossed me around when I was injured, I know you would make a good doctor.”

She laughed softly at the words and shook her head. “Once I get a job and can afford to, I’ll return to school. Until then, we can live wherever you want.”

“You do not need a job. We have a lot of money,” he assured her. “Enough you need never work again if you do not wish.”

Abigail frowned at this news. He could say we all he wanted, but the fact was she had nothing, not even the two-hundred-plus dollars she’d started out with when they met. She had no idea where that was. Abigail had lost her jeans along the way and the money with them. So, Tomasso was saying he had a lot of money that he was willing to share with her.

That was pretty interesting. Not that he was willing to share it with her, but that he had a lot of money. She’d never even considered that he might. Perhaps because he hadn’t even had clothes when she’d met him. The man had been naked as a jaybird and Abigail had just assumed he was a regular type guy who happened to be a gorgeous, sexy beefcake.

Clearing her throat, she said, “Thank you. But I’d rather pay my own way. So we can live wherever you want, at least until I have the money to go to school.”

“Hmm.” Tomasso scowled at her and then relaxed. “It is still winter. We have months until the fall when I presume medical school would start. That is plenty of time for me to convince you to attend. In the meantime, we will stay in Toronto for a bit so that you can meet my family here, and then we will go to California so you can meet my family there, and then we will return to Italy so I may show you our home, and where I grew up and introduce you to my parents and brothers and sisters and cousins and nieces and nephews and great nieces and—”

Abigail kissed him to shut him up, mostly because Tomasso was scaring the heck out of her with his list of all the people she had to meet and be inspected by. The thought of all of them looking her over and judging her as a possible mate for Tomasso was a bit alarming.

He didn’t seem to mind the silencing tactic. Tomasso kissed her back, his hands pushing her open robe over her shoulders so that his hands could find and caress her breasts until she moaned and arched in his lap. Then he let one hand drop down to slide up her leg and, despite herself, the action reminded Abigail of Jake and his damned dart gun. It didn’t upset her so much as raise questions in her mind that she wanted answered.

Catching his hand to stop him, Abigail broke their kiss and pulled back to look at him.

“Are you all right?” Tomasso asked with concern. “It is too soon after all?”

“No,” Abigail assured him. “I just—what will happen to Jake and Sully?”

“Happen?” he asked uncertainly.

“Yes. I mean, I know you probably can’t take them to the police. They might start squawking about vampires and stuff, so what will be done? Do you guys have a prison of your own you put them in, or . . .” She shrugged slightly, having no other idea of what could be done with the men. “I presume they won’t just be let go to kidnap some other poor immortals or murder more mortals.”

“No. They will not be released,” Tomasso said slowly, and then cleared his throat and said, “In the normal course of events they would have had their minds wiped permanently and then would probably have been placed in a mental facility. The kind of wiping I speak of can do permanent damage,” Tomasso explained. “However, if it did not do permanent damage, they would have been released into the population as a blank slate to start over. However, they would have been watched until it was ascertained that they would not be trouble again.”

That sounded kinder than what they deserved, Abigail thought, but asked, “You said would have been? So that didn’t happen this time?”

Tomasso shook his head, his expression troubled.

“Then what happened?” she asked.

“They are dead, cara,” he said gently.

“What?” Abigail’s eyes went wide. “Did Lucian have them killed?”

“No, bella. They were dead when we got to you,” Tomasso said, his concern growing. “Do you not remember what happened?”

“Yes, of course, but who killed them?” she asked and frowned when he stared at her silently. Abigail started to shake her head as understanding struck. “No. Jake hit the wall a little harder than I expected. Actually, I didn’t think I could throw him that far, but surely—”

“His neck snapped either when he hit the wall or when he fell to the floor,” Tomasso said solemnly.

“It did?” Abigail asked faintly, her stomach turning over as she realized she’d killed someone. Pushing that thought away, she asked, “But what about Sully? I know I didn’t kill him. All I did was shoot him with one of the drugged darts. That wouldn’t kill—” She paused when she saw that Tomasso was nodding and asked uncertainly, “It did?”

“Normal tranquilizers do not work on immortals. The nanos clean them out of our system too quickly,” Tomasso explained. “The drugs in those darts, and the amount needed to affect an immortal, even for a short time, are deadly to a mortal.” Tomasso shrugged apologetically. “Sully overdosed. His heart probably stopped before he hit the floor.”

Abigail just stared at him.

“Are you all right?” he asked with a frown.

Abigail nodded, and then shook her head. She’d killed two men. They’d been cruel animals, murderers and worse, but she’d still taken two lives. Their blood was on her hands.

Tomasso pressed her head to his chest and rubbed her back soothingly. “It was an accident. You were trying to save Jet and Mary and yourself. Jake and Sully would have done worse to you. But you are going to insist on feeling guilty about this, are you not?”

“I’m afraid so,” she said on a sigh.

“Then I suppose I will just have to do my best to distract you every time you think of them,” Tomasso announced, his tone businesslike.

Abigail lifted her head in question. “How—?”

His mouth covered hers, answering the question before she could fully ask it. At first, Abigail went still, but as he began to stir the passion in her that always rose to meet his, she relaxed and began to kiss him back. That was when Abigail realized that Tomasso hadn’t been at all sure his method would work, because he relaxed then and his kiss deepened.

When her hand drifted down to touch the pup tent in his pants, Tomasso growled into her mouth as a shaft of excitement raced through both their bodies. Their kiss quickly became more violent, and Abigail reached down eagerly with her other hand to unsnap his pants and lower his zipper. She then gasped when Tomasso suddenly stood up, taking her with him. Much to her confusion, he sat down again in the next moment. But when he then lifted and turned her so that she was facing him with her legs on either side of his, she understood what that exercise had been about. His pants were around his ankles, she saw before he settled her to straddle his lap so that his erection was trapped between them.

“Oh,” Abigail moaned as he eased her more firmly against his erection, his hands roaming her body. Arching forward, she covered his hands with hers and tipped her head back as he began to palm and fondle her breasts. She gasped as he tweaked both nipples at once, and then laughed breathlessly and said, “You’re very good at distracting.”

“It is my pleasure,” Tomasso responded, his voice a deep growl, his eyes lifting to her face. He stilled briefly, and then suddenly released one breast and reached to the side.

Abigail turned her head curiously, to see what was now distracting him, her eyes widening slightly as he opened the front of the bedside table to reveal the mini refrigerator inside. Opening that, Tomasso pulled out four bags of blood one after the other, and then pushed the door closed.

“What—?” she began with a frown, but paused as she nicked her tongue on one of her fangs. They’d descended and she hadn’t even noticed.

“You are still healing,” Tomasso said gently, and then hefting one bag in his hand, he smiled crookedly and asked, “Do you think we can last through all four bags before fainting?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted and then grinned and pointed out, “But you did say together we could get through anything.”

“Sì, I did,” he agreed solemnly, and then, his expression wry, admitted, “But this may be the exception to the rule.”

Abigail grinned, for some reason delighted at that, and then shrugged and suggested, “Why don’t we find out?”

When she opened her mouth then, Tomasso hesitated only a heartbeat before popping the bag to her fangs. He then immediately let his hand drift back down to her breast, but he only let it brush gently over the sensitive, erect nipple before allowing it to continue on its journey. When his fingers slid between her legs to work their magic, Abigail rose up slightly on a gasp and clutched at his shoulders, thinking that he was probably right. While together they could do anything, this may just be one of the very few exceptions to the rule . . . but she would very much enjoy every minute they spent trying.