His hand moved in her hair, tugging, telling her she’d had enough, and she did just as he had done—swirled her tongue over the small laceration as if she could close it, or as if she needed one last taste.
Fane rolled them, keeping them connected, her under him so that he could watch her face as he moved in her. She was so beautiful. He loved that she had lived life. That she’d known sorrow and happiness. That she’d lived her life as fully as possible and taught those she loved to do the same. She understood loneliness. She needed him in the same way he needed her.
He took her over the edge and went with her, and then stayed there, deep inside his lady. Feeling her beauty. Feeling her contentment. Loving that she relaxed beneath him, trusting him.
He kissed her over and over before he rolled to his side, tucking her close, his hand splayed over her soft belly. “This will not be easy. Andre told me, the conversion is difficult, but I will get you through it, hän sívamak, trust me to get you through it.”
She made a lazy circle with her fingertips on his abdomen. “Conversion?”
“From your world to mine. We cannot be apart. During the day, I cannot be in the sun. A paralysis overcomes me. It is getting close to dawn and we will need to be in the ground.”
Trixie blinked at him. She went very still. “I can’t sleep in the ground with you, Fane. I would suffocate.”
“Not if you go through the conversion first,” he pointed out. “You will become as I am. You will be able to see your family, Trixie, have no fears of that. We can make adjustments . . .”
“I want to be with you, Fane. I agreed to that,” she said, “and I don’t go back on my word. But I’m not going to have to take people’s blood to survive or sleep in the ground like a vampire. For one thing, I’m just too old for that nonsense. Seriously. You had better listen to me because I’m laying down the law here. I mean this. I’ll sleep on a mattress next to you even if you look and act dead in your paralysis, but not in the ground. I don’t even like camping.”
She was “laying down the law.” He liked that. It was completely preposterous of course, but he liked that she thought she could. A lot. His lady had courage and attitude; he was fairly certain she would try to face down a vampire if the situation warranted it.
“I can see I am going to have to watch you if I go hunting vampires. Clearly you are the type of woman to grab your silly vampire-hunting kit and try to help.”
“My vampire-hunting kit is not silly,” she denied. Then she ruined her adamant tone by snickering. “Okay, so it’s a little bit silly. Most of the stuff is absolutely useless.”
“I hate to tell you this, sívamet, but all of that junk is absolutely useless.”
Beneath his hand he felt her stomach tighten in a long wave. She gasped and clutched his wrist. Her eyes widened in alarm. He immersed himself in her mind to steady and monitor her.
“I’m right here,” he reminded gently.
She breathed through the pain, like a woman might when giving birth. In a way, he could see that. This was the death of a human and the birth of a Carpathian. Still, even with Andre telling him the procedure was difficult, he didn’t expect such pain. It burned through her. Agony. She didn’t make a sound. Not a single sound. Not a scream, not a cry, not even a moan.
She kept her eyes on his, and the one time he reached to get a cool cloth, her hands tightened on him and he brought his gaze back to hers. He heard her protest in his mind and knew she was trusting him to get her through and that meant his eyes were on hers at all times.
She was sick, a wrenching terrible cost as her body rid itself of all toxins, and the vomiting seemed to last for far too long. It was brutal and ugly and she still never protested. Her body convulsed and she held on to him tightly, to his hand, and when she couldn’t hold him anymore, he held her.
Hän sívamak, you are so brave. So very brave. We are almost done.
Fane talked to her using a mixture of his ancient language and her English, holding her to him all the while. Rocking her. Telling her of his life. Of the nights he’d held on to his dream of a lifemate. Of the woman who would be his someday. He explained Carpathian life to her. The pros. The cons. He kept his voice low and soothing, but mostly, he wanted her to know he was there with her. In her mind. Feeling the brutality of the conversion with her.
When he realized the terrible waves of pain had begun to lessen and he was certain he could do it, he leaned close, his mouth against her ear, even though he spoke in her mind. He wanted her to feel the brush of a kiss there when he spoke.
I will send you to sleep, Trixie. You no longer have to bear this burden. I can do so for you.
She shook her head, her fingers tightening around his. Did Teagan go through this? Was Andre as good with her as you have been with me?
Fane didn’t feel as if he was good with her. She was the one who had suffered. He’d tried to bear the brunt of the pain, but it had been impossible. He couldn’t send her to sleep until it was safe to do so. Now she didn’t want to sleep. He could see and feel her exhaustion and already another wave of pain rushed through her body. Just like in the beginning, she breathed her way through it.
“Yes, beloved,” he murmured aloud, “Teagan was converted by Andre. It is a painful process. We cannot take the pain away as much as we would like to do so. I am certain he was good to her. For Andre, the moon rises and sets with her.”
She was silent, waiting for the pain to ebb away. “You do know this wasn’t just painful, it was also humiliating for you to see me this way.”
Her gaze still clung to his. He forced a reassuring smile when he really wanted to weep for the agony he’d put her through. “If you go through something so painful and life altering, I will go through it with you. You will never be alone again.”
Another ripple of pain caught at her. Clearly the worst wasn’t over. He smoothed back her hair, and with a wave of his hand, cleaned her, the bed and the floor.
“That will come in handy.” She managed a smile. Her hands clung to his. Her eyes hadn’t moved from his. “I never did like housekeeping much.”
“You trusted me,” Fane murmured softly, his hand splayed across her stomach where he knew it felt much like a blowtorch had been taken to her insides. Her grip on him didn’t waver. He leaned down to sip at the tears leaking from her eyes. She didn’t need to know they were bloodred.