By the time she and Marcus were finally, completely alone, Phoebe had had time to get nervous about what was about to happen.
“I’m not very good at biting yet,” Phoebe confessed as Marcus drew her toward his room.
Marcus gave her a kiss that left her dizzy.
“Do we exchange blood before or after we make love?” Phoebe asked once they were inside and the door was closed and locked. It was a very stout lock, she noticed, probably fifteenth century in date. “I don’t want to do it wrong.”
Marcus was on one knee before her, sliding her knickers out from underneath her dress.
“I’m so glad you didn’t wear trousers,” he said, shimmying the aquamarine linen up to expose bare flesh. “Oh, God. You smell even better than you did before.”
“I do?” Phoebe stopped worrying about what she was supposed to do long enough to thoroughly enjoy what Marcus was actually doing with his mouth and tongue. She gasped.
Marcus looked up at her with the wicked expression that only she saw. “Yes. Which is completely impossible, because you were perfect before. So how could you be more perfect now?”
“Do I—taste—different?” Phoebe asked, her fingers threaded through his hair. She gave it a little tug.
“I’ll have to do more research to be sure,” Marcus said, giving her a grin before delving into her once more.
Phoebe discovered that, like most things in life, vampires had no need to rush when it came to pleasure. She could expand her being into every moment of their lovemaking, unconcerned about the time, never worried if she was taking too long or if it was her turn to please Marcus.
Time just—stopped. There was no then, no soon, only a bone-satisfying, endless now.
Every nerve in her body was tingling, seconds or minutes or hours later, when Marcus had finished reacquainting himself with her body and Phoebe had explored his with the enhanced touch, taste, smell, hearing, and sight that she now possessed. She had never imagined she could feel so deeply, or be so completely joined with another human being.
When Phoebe was moments away from climax, Marcus rolled them over so that Phoebe was balanced atop him. He was still inside her. Gently, Marcus cupped her face in his hands. He searched her face as though he was looking for something. When he found what he sought, Marcus drew her mouth toward his breast.
Phoebe picked up a scent—elusive, mysterious. It was unlike anything she had ever smelled before.
Marcus moved, slowly. Phoebe moaned as that maddening, alluring scent grew stronger. He put his hands on her hips, holding her tight to him, increasing the friction between them.
Phoebe felt her body begin to spiral toward completion. Her cheek was resting on Marcus’s chest, and she heard his heart beat. Once.
Phoebe bit into Marcus’s flesh, and her mouth was flooded with the scent-taste of heaven—of the man she loved and would always love. His blood sang within her, the notes echoed in his heart’s slow cadence.
Evermore.
Marcus’s thoughts and feelings coursed through her veins like quicksilver, a flash of light and fire that brought a kaleidoscope of images along with it. There were too many for Phoebe to acknowledge never mind absorb. It would take her centuries to understand the tales that Marcus’s blood told.
Evermore, Marcus’s heart sang.
But there was one constant in the endless changing barrage of information: Phoebe herself. Her voice, as Marcus heard it. Her eyes, as Marcus saw them. Her touch, as Marcus felt it.
Phoebe heard her own heart answer his, the harmony perfect.
Evermore.
Phoebe lifted her head and looked into Marcus’s eyes, knowing that he would see himself reflected in hers.
Evermore.
37
A Fence Against the World
13 AUGUST
“My God, that’s a griffin!” Chris Roberts stood in the doorway to the kitchen in New Haven, holding a birthday cake and staring at Apollo.
“Yes, he is,” I said, taking a tray of roasted vegetables from the oven. “He’s called Apollo.”
“Does he bite?” Chris asked.
“He does, but I have some of Sarah’s Peace Water in case he gets anxious.” The bottle in my pocket was filled with layers of different-colored blue liquids. I took it out and gave it a shake. “Come, Apollo.”
Apollo obediently bounded over.
“Good boy.” I pulled the stopper on the bottle and dabbed a bit of liquid on the griffin’s forehead and its breastbone.
Ardwinna stalked by with her bone. She gave Chris a sniff, then settled down to gnaw on it.
“And what the hell is that?” Chris demanded.