Bled Dry (34 page)

“Yes.” And he looked a little smug over that fact. “I have a clean conscience. I protected my family and the Vampire Nation, yet I did not kill him.”

“Jesus. And you know he’s mortal now?”

Corbin nodded. “I saw him. Apparently he wishes to keep it a secret from the general vampire population, but he is recuperating from the injuries sustained in the fall. His wife is tending to him. He is very angry, and he is very much mortal.” Corbin gave a slight smile. “She was feeding him chicken broth while he swore at her.”

“My God... you did it. You can reverse vampirism.” Tears popped into her eyes and she swiped at them impatiently. “What are you going to do with the vaccine? And how do you know that Gregor can’t just make himself a vampire again by being drained?”

He turned completely around to face her and leaned back against the railing, crossing his ankles. His black Italian shoes were gleaming and new, pants pressed, shirt expensive. “Even if someone were foolish enough to drain Gregor and give him their own blood, I am confident it will not achieve the same results. And I destroyed my lab. It’s dangerous information to have so accessible to the wrong people, as we both discovered. But... ” He patted his leather jacket. “I did not use it all on Gregor. The formula is encoded on a ThumbDrive, and it will stay there for now, until I determine what is the best course of action to take. But I have enough, right now, to return myself to mortality.”

“Is that what you want?” She couldn’t let him do it for her, or the baby. It had to be what he wanted, even though she had the urge to jump up and down and shriek with joy that he could be with her, every day, all day, that he could age with her, and share in all the moments of pride and worry and pleasure that raising children could bring.

But she didn’t want to influence him, wanted him to be sure that he was doing it for the right reasons, for himself. The fact that he might do it for her and the baby spoke volumes about the depth of his character, his caring, his compassion, but it wouldn’t be right to use that to her advantage.

“Yes, it’s what I want.” Corbin gave a short laugh. “
Ma chérie
, it is all I have ever wanted. I want to be a mortal man. I want to see my child grow up. I want you. I even want to die one day, an old man, knowing that I treated each day as a gift, each moment as a treasure.”

Then he went down on one knee. “Will you do me the honor of being my wife, through good times and bad, in sickness and in health, until death do us part? Not for the child, but for us. Because of our love, our friendship.”

Brittany was speechless. She was blubbering, tears just streaming all over the place. She managed a ridiculous, choked out “Oh, Corbin!” but nothing else.

He gripped her hand a little harder. “Is that a yes?”

Nodding her head up and down, she gave a short, sob-smothered laugh. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”

Rising elegantly, he sketched her a bow. “
Ma chérie
, you make me the happiest of men.”

He was so damn hot when he pulled out those nineteenth-century manners. “And I’m the happiest chick in Vegas. But I have to ask... are there any side effects to the vaccine?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” He pulled her into his arms. “Why? Would you not have me if I grew large nose hairs or turned a strange chalk white color?”

She laughed and settled against his chest. “Don’t be ridiculous. I meant, I don’t want anything awful happening to you. I don’t want you to suffer. I don’t want it to kill you. If there is even a chance, it’s not worth the risk.”

“I am confident that the drug inhibits the virus, that is all. Minor side effects may be possible, but nothing alarming.”

Feeling ridiculously, sickeningly happy, Brittany squeezed her arms around him tighter and teased, “What about your sperm?”

“I’m sure I’ll have plenty to keep you busy for years.” He gave her a French kiss, in every sense of the word.

Brittany pulled back and sighed. “Oh, la, la.” Then she smacked his arms, shook him a little. “Promise me you’ll give this some thought. Be sure this is what you want. Mortality, that is. You’re locked into marrying me and can’t retreat from that offer, but mortality is totally your choice.”

“I have thought about it.”

“Just wait until the baby is born. Be sure.” She didn’t want him to have any regrets. “You’re choosing between life and death here. That can’t be an easy decision.”

“It was an easy decision for you,” he pointed out. “I offered to turn you, and you immediately refused.”

“That was different. I wasn’t giving something up. You will be giving up immortality.”

He shook his head. “I am not giving up immortality.” Caressing her belly, he said, “You and I, our love, it will live forever in our child.”

There were the tears again. She was a freaking water faucet. On, off, on again. “What will happen to our child, if he is immortal, and you and I die? If you stay a vampire, you can be with him forever.”

Corbin’s jaw locked. “All children live beyond their parents. That is natural and normal. But our child will have Alexis and Ethan to go through eternity with her.”

“It sounds like you’ve made up your mind already.”

He shrugged. “I will think about it. I will wait. But our marriage cannot wait. You will be Mrs. Corbin Jean Michel Atelier as soon as it is possible.”

“I’m a dentist,” she reminded him. “I get to be Dr. Atelier.”

“Technically, I have that title as well, since I went to medical school in the 1860s. We will both be Dr. Atelier. But you’re the beautiful one.”

“And you’re the hairy one.” Brittany felt silly, giddy, delirious. She kissed his jaw, his neck, his collarbone.

“I am most certainly not hairy.”

“Show me.” She peeled at his shirt, his belt buckle.

“Right here? Right now?”

“Yep.”

So he did.

“Why black and gold?” Alexis was saying to Ethan, as she peeled her shoes off and flopped on the pink suede couch Corbin and Brittany had picked out when they had bought their new house.

Their decorating tastes had collided so that their living room was Bombay meets the Cotswolds, with a splash of Vegas glitz thrown in. Atrocious by some standards, but perfect for them.

“Why not purple and gold?” Alexis continued.

“Because New Orleans already uses that for Mardi Gras,” Ethan told his wife dryly.

“But what about purple and black? Green and black? Yellow and chartreuse? Black is so morbid. Even for a vampire inaugural ball.”

From the chair on the other side of the coffee table, Corbin listened to the discussion with only half an ear. He was too busy staring at his daughter, who was astonishingly perfect, from the tip of her soft, distended head, to her wrinkled red and peeling toes.

“It’s black and gold and that is just the way it is,” Ethan told her, leaning over Corbin’s shoulder to tickle Ava’s tiny fingers. “Hello, gorgeous. Did you stay awake to see your Uncle Ethan in his triumph? Everyone else has to call me Mr. President or President Carrick, but you get to call me Uncle Ethan, what do you think of that?”

“She’s awake because Corbin won’t lay her down,” Brittany said, giving a yawn. “She’s four days old and she has him wrapped completely around her finger.”

“She’s not sleepy,” Corbin protested, holding Ava on his knees. “Her eyes are wide open, staring at me. Her beautiful big brown eyes just like her mama’s. Isn’t that right, precious?” He looked down at his daughter and she blinked back at him, her little button nose wrinkling a little. His heart had that unmistakable sensation of skipping a beat, as it had with regularity since the minute he had first laid eyes on his baby in the labor and delivery room. Ava Coco Renee Atelier had come into the world screaming, red-faced and angry, her lusty cries echoing in the room, and he knew in that moment that she could spit up on him, throw tantrums, wreck her car at sixteen, and he would never do anything but adore her.

It was awe-inspiring and frightening and glorious.

“If you would like to sleep, Brittany, go ahead,
ma chérie
. I will stay up with her.”

His wife yawned again. “Maybe I should. The little beast will want to eat again in two hours anyway. Better sleep while I can.”

“She is not a little beast, are you, darling?” he asked Ava, her barely there eyelashes brushing up and down as she blinked. “You’re just hungry, aren’t you, and Mama is tired. We’ll let Mama sleep and you and I will entertain your aunt and uncle, yes we will.” He ran his thumb over the softness of her cheek. “You are perfect, you know that, don’t you?”

“Oh, my God,” Alexis said, grinning. “Listen to you. She does have you wrapped around her finger. And what on earth is she wearing? Her shirt says,
Daddy drinks because I cry
. Okay, that’s funny in a warped sort of way, though I cannot imagine that either one of you bought this.”

Corbin winced at the white T-shirt his daughter had on.

Brittany gave a laugh. “Hardly. The onesie is a gift from Corbin’s friend Travis. The Baby Boot Camp graduates stopped by with their congrats earlier.”

“Brittany thought it would be a nice gesture to have Ava in the outfit Travis sent to the hospital.” Personally, Corbin wanted to burn it.

“Nice,” Ethan said.

“Okay, I’m off to bed,” Brittany yawned. “Night. Bye, baby.” She ran her hand over Ava’s downy hair, then waved to all of them. “Congrats again, Ethan. I knew you’d win the election.”

When the bedroom door closed behind her, Alexis lifted her eyebrows. “Geez, Corbin, Brit looks drunk. She’s swaying on her feet.”

“We’ve hardly slept at all in four days. Maybe a few hours each. You know how hard her delivery was.” During which he had felt like a helpless idiot. But mortal. Wonderfully, vulnerably, weakly mortal. It was amazing.

When his daughter had left the hospital, he had walked beside the wheelchair carrying his wife and baby, right out into the spring sunshine. It was the finest moment of his long life.

“If you ever need us to babysit her at night, we’d be good at that,” Alexis said with a grin. “Since we’re up anyway. It would give you both a chance to get a good night’s sleep.”

“Thank you. Maybe in a day or two.” Right then he figured he would stay awake looking at Ava until he absolutely could not keep his eyes open another second. But he supposed eventually he was going to have to sleep.

“How was the ball?” he asked Alexis. “Was there a good attendance?”

“It was a madhouse. It seemed like every vampire in the western hemisphere was there offering congrats. Everyone except Gregor, who of course, despite his adeptness at hiding it from the Nation, is not really a vampire anymore anyway. He gave his concession speech after the election and has been lying low at the Bellagio. Man, I don’t know what we would have done if he had won.”

“He wouldn’t have won,” Carrick said confidently.

“And Donatelli?” Corbin asked.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “I despise him. Bloody bastard gets on my nerves.” Then he frowned. “Beg pardon, Ava. I’ll have to watch the language now that she’s around. But anyway, Donatelli was there, reveling in the glory of our win. Damn irritating. Shit. Darn irritating.”

“You’re just annoyed because he danced with Gwenna.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. She had no business waltzing around the room in his arms.”

“Will you relax? She only did it because he cornered her and she didn’t want to make a scene. Hey, maybe we should set Gwenna up with one of your friends.”