Deathless Love (22 page)

He fixed her a tuna melt sandwich, on rice bread. It was pure heaven. She ate the whole thing without stopping and washed it down with the glass of milk he had poured her. She wiped her mouth with a napkin, feeling more like herself than she had all day.

“Thank you,” she said. “That was great.”

He sat down in a chair next to her and studied her face. “Can we talk?”

She nodded, mutely.

He took her hand and took a deep breath. “Kate,
tesoro mio,
I was a coward. I told myself I was protecting you by keeping us apart, but it wasn't true. I was afraid. I had a wife, once. I watched her grow old and die, while I never changed. I watched my daughter and grandchildren die.” He shrugged. “I didn't think I could do it again.”

She looked away. She had known all this already. She understood it, but it didn't change the pain in her heart.

“I was wrong. A life without love isn't worth living. For almost 500 years I've just been walking around in some numb, existential crisis. It was you who forced me out of it. You, who showed me that my stony heart was still capable of love. You, who made me reach higher and break through to a higher realm of consciousness. And I'm a different person—vampire—now.

“But I'm nothing without you. And these past two weeks I've known that. I've felt that. But I was still too much of a coward to admit it.

“But now…” His eyes filled with those bloody tears again. She held back a shudder. “Now…you tell me of this miracle. This impossible miracle.” His voice choked up.

Her own eyes filled with tears.

“And I see I have a second chance. And I want to do it right.”

She pressed her trembling lips together, too unsure of herself to speak.

“I meant what I said at Congress. If you take me back I will never let you down again. I promise. But… I understand if… if you can't. I know I hurt you, and I'm very, very sorry. I hope someday you will forgive me.

“I want you to know whether you want me in your life or not, I will take care of you and our baby. You'll never want for anything if I can provide it. I don't want you to feel trapped—like you have to be with me because you can't afford to take care of her alone.”

She shook her head. “No. It's not like that. I want you. Not your money.”

The look of hope in Dom's face lifted the clamp she'd been holding around her heart. In a rush, she felt all the love and warmth she'd locked up spill out of her. She threw herself into his arms and he cradled her there in his lap, kissing her head and stroking her, murmuring softly in Italian.

After a while, he stood, lifting her easily in his arms, and carried her into her bedroom, where he lay her down and covered her body with his own, making love to her with a care that made it feel like a sacred ritual. Or a solemn promise.

“
Ti amo, piccola mia
,” he whispered. “I love you, little one.”

Chapter Thirteen

He woke to the feel of hot skin and hissed, realizing he had fallen asleep at Kate's and now the pre-dawn light was coming through the shades. He dematerialized immediately back to his place. A few moments later his phone rang.

“Good morning,
bambina
,” he said.

“Are you okay?” her voice was threaded with worry.

“Yes, I accidentally fell asleep at your place, but I'm safely home now.”

“Good,” she said with relief.

“What do you have going on today? May I take you to dinner tonight?”

“I don't have anything planned. Yeah. I'd like that.”

“Great. I'll pick you up at eight. Get some more sleep, okay?”

“Okay, you too.”

“Sweet dreams,” he said and hung up. Before he went and climbed in his own bed, he got online and ordered flowers to be delivered to her by noon with the note, “I'm sorry I hurt you.” He had plans for her that night, and he wanted to do his best to make amends before then.

After an hour or so of dozing, he found he couldn't sleep any more, anyway. He felt invigorated and a little nervous. After he showered, dressed and ate, he opened the safe in his office and picked out a big rectangular sapphire ring with diamonds around the band. If she didn't like it, they could go shopping for something else, but he didn't want to walk in empty handed.

Next he called a local salon/spa and made an appointment for her to get the full treatment—facial, manicure/pedicure and cut and color. He decided she might be less likely to turn it down if he had them call her with the news, so he left it that way, with the instructions for them to call him back if she canceled or refused the appointments.

His final arrangement was with the restaurant, so he called there and asked to speak to a manager, cooking up a plan for their evening. He received the first text from Kate at 12:45 pm, that said, “Flowers made me cry. Thx.”

At 1:25 pm, after she would have heard from the salon, she texted, “I like when you take charge of me.” He was an absolute nancy because that nearly made
him
cry.

When he picked her up, she looked stunning. She had dyed her hair back to its natural whisky color, with several bold platinum chunks in the front for sass. It was cut shorter with an angle toward her chin, which emphasized her fine bone structure. She was wearing a retro sheath dress with wide, colored stripes. He felt little flutters of nervous energy coming from her. He drew her in for a kiss to calm her down. She rewarded him with one of her big smiles. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi.”

“You look amazing.”

She blushed. “Thanks. Do you like it?” she asked, turning her head to show off her new style.

“Of course I do. I always like it,” he smiled at her and she blushed even more. He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

He escorted her to the Mercedes, and held the door open for her, handing her in like a gentleman. It was a short drive, filled with quiet tension.

“Thank you for the flowers,” she murmured.

He tried to figure out if the tension was just related to the formality of the date following their recent estrangement, or whether she had rethought their relationship. He gave her a sidelong look, but she was just looking at her hands, examining her new manicure.

“Your nails look nice,” he said.

Okay, this was getting worse by the minute. He found he was sweating a bit from nerves himself. He found a place in the parking garage and escorted Kate into Poca Cosa, the site of their first dinner date.

“I have a reservation, the name's Dominic DeParma,” he told the hostess.

Her eyes flickered in recognition and she gave them a huge smile. “I have your table waiting for you. Follow me.” She led them to a corner table in the back and he pressed a small box into her hand before he sat down. She held it behind her back as she took their drink orders and gave him a shadow of a wink as she departed.

The waitress appeared shortly to explain the specials. “…and we also have a special item on the menu tonight just for your table.” She went on in the exact same didactic tone she had explained the specials, “It's called the “Casado,” which is a marriage.” She looked at Kate, who had not caught on. “In this case it would be a marriage between you and Dominic DeParma. It comes with a ring and two glasses of champagne and your choice of a meal from the menu.”

Kate blinked several times at the waitress. He found he could not breathe. He should have simply got down on one knee at her place. This public setting proposal may have been creative, but he really was not sure of her answer, which could mean embarrassment for them both. He opened and closed his hands. The best he could hope for was a “maybe” from her at this point.

Kate covered her mouth with one hand in surprise, comprehension dawning on her. “W-what?” she asked shakily.

To hell with it. He'd already hung himself out there, he had no choice but to give it his best. He got out of his seat and dropped to one knee. “Kate, will you marry me?”

Her eyes filled with tears and she nodded wordlessly. The waitress, who had stepped back unobtrusively—probably ready to disappear if things didn't go well—beamed at them. “I'll be right back with that order,” she said brightly, as if she'd been rehearsing that line all night.

They were getting curious smiles from the tables nearby, who couldn't fail to notice a man down on one knee. He stood up and pulled Kate to standing, kissing her fully on the lips. A smattering of applause broke out from their fellow diners.

“Dom,” Kate said in a strangled voice, clinging to him, pressing her cheek against his chest.

“
Dolcezza mia.
” Then he wished he hadn't chosen a restaurant for his proposal for the simple reason that he wanted to keep her close to him, pressed against his body, breathing in the scent of her freshly cut hair rather than sit down with a table separating their bodies.

But of course they did sit back down. The waitress returned with the little box and two glasses of champagne. He watched Kate's face closely as she opened the box. It lit up. He felt a surge of happiness as she beamed at him and put it on her left ring finger. He held up his glass of champagne to toast. She looked uncertain. He smiled indulgently. “A few sips won't hurt anything, Kate.”

She looked relieved and picked up the glass, clinking it to his. “I'm so happy,” she said in a low, honeyed voice and he felt the truth of it as her pleasure engulfed him like a warm blanket.

His heart surged with love. “Me too, p
iccolina
,” he said.

The waitress appeared and reminded them that they hadn't ordered anything to eat, so they both ordered the chef's pick.

“So I am going to take charge of you,
cara mia
.”

She smiled at him and he caught the faint scent of her arousal.

“I am sending movers to your house to pack everything and move you into my place.”

“But my lease isn't up till December,” she protested.

He shrugged. “So we might have to pay a penalty. I'll worry about it, all right?”

“I have a cat,” she said, her shoulders bracing as if she expected a fight.

He shrugged again. “I like cats.”

She smiled her brilliant smile.

“I want you to have another appointment with my Feldenkrais practitioner to make sure the bones in your face are all right.”

She smiled demurely. “Whatever you say, Dom,” she said, as if trying on the phrase.

“And I guess we need to research obstetricians and make an appointment for you.” He felt a wave of pain at that thought. He wouldn't be able to be a part of this aspect of her pregnancy—doctors only did business in the daylight.

“What is it?” she asked, noticing his sadness.

He picked up her hand. “I just wish I could go with you, that's all.” He shook his head. “It's all right. It is the first of many, many times I will not be able to include myself in your and our daughter's lives. But I will find other ways to be involved.” He smiled at her weakly. “At least you don't have to worry about who will take the night shift with the baby!”

She grasped his hand tightly. “We'll figure it out. Together. We'll figure it all out,” she said emphatically.

He smiled at her. “Yes, my love. I know we will.”

* * *

She liked cooking in Dom's kitchen. No—her kitchen, now. Or soon it would be, anyway. That thought didn't feel right yet, but hopefully it wouldn't take long to settle in here. She cracked six eggs into a bowl and started whipping them, stopping every so often to admire the incredible ring Dom had given her the night before.

She rummaged in the refrigerator to see what kind of fresh vegetables they had and found broccoli, carrots and green onions. She chopped them into tiny pieces and tossed them in a skillet with some olive oil to sauté. There wasn't any whipping cream, but milk would probably work. Fortunately, they had all kinds of cheese. She picked Swiss, and after locating a grater, started grating away.

Two hands squeezed her butt cheeks and she jumped, turning around to smile at Dom. She shrieked to see it was not Dom, but Stella, her fangs fully extended with lust. Stella laughed and tossed her shiny dark hair back. “Who's this hot mortal in my kitchen?”

She felt herself blush. “Good morning, Stella.”

“
Buon giorno
. What are you making?”

“Quiche. Except without the crust.” She wasn't about to get a spanking over unapproved wheat again.

“Mmm, yummy,” she made a show of licking her beautiful lips. “Want me to make you a Bloody Mary?”

“Uh, no thanks.”

“Latte?'

“No, I'm good. Thanks, though.”
Thirty percent increased risk of miscarriage from coffee
, she heard the voice of one of her professors in her head. The poor woman was forty and had been trying to carry a pregnancy to term for the past five years.

She added the cheese and milk to the eggs and added garlic powder, salt and a little nutmeg. When the vegetables had cooled, she stirred it all together, poured it in a pan and sprinkled sliced almonds on the top before popping it in the oven.

“Morning,” Fox said when he came in freshly showered. He fired up the espresso machine and plopped down at the table. “I'm glad you're back,” he said meaningfully.

She saddened at the memory of the traumatic two-week separation. “Thanks. I mean, me too,” she mumbled.

“Me too,” said Stella.

“Me too,” said Dom, as he came in and wrapped his arms around her from behind. His fangs were a little elongated too. It must be like morning wood. He ran a fang up and down her neck, making her shiver.

“So, do you two have something to tell us?” asked Stella pointedly, raising her eyebrows as she nodded toward the ring on Kate's finger.

“As a matter of fact, we do,” said Dom. She treasured the note of triumph in his voice. “Kate's having my baby,” he said proudly.

“What?!” Stella and Fox said at the same time, dumbfounded.

“That's not possible,” Fox said.

“I'm sure,” Dom said firmly. “It's a girl and she's mine.”

They all blinked at each other for a moment and then Fox was on his feet, and Stella lunged forward also, and the four of them fell into a flurry of hugs and back thumps. “Congratulations. I can't believe it! I just can't believe it!” Fox said.