life.”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes.”

“And do you understand?”

“I am trying.”

Lisette shrugged. “Then all is well. Rome was not built in a day.”

“That may be true. I... where are we going?”

They had moved away from the crowded streets, toward a part of the city that lay mostly in darkness. Lisette guided him along the cobblestone pathways, unerring, sure of her destination.

“My home, naturally.”

“Why?”

A small smile, nothing more.

* * *

They were greeted at the door by a young girl, maybe sixteen, pale with honey-colored hair and large grey eyes. A small, upturned nose, pink bow lips. Not a vampire. Theroen raised his eyebrows at this, but Lisette simply smiled her little smile, and nodded to the girl.

“Naomi.”

“Welcome home, mistress. Welcome, good sir.” The girl stepped aside, and Lisette led Theroen into a small, comfortably furnished room. A fire burned in a marble hearth on one end. Small couches sat in a semi-circle on the other. Through a door to his left, Theroen saw a doorway leading to a dining room. To his right, a hall, leading most likely to bedrooms.

“This is Theroen. Theroen, Naomi. She is my companion.”

“You keep a human companion?” Theroen asked. He was trying hard not to look at the girl, trying not to sense the blood in her veins.

“I do. It is not unusual for Ashayt vampires to spend their time with humans, or even to live with them. Naomi tends the house, and in exchange I drink from her, on occasion.”

Naomi, standing in the corner, said nothing, only smiled. Her eyes were on the floor. Theroen glanced at her, then back at Lisette. “You can do that?”

“Certainly. Human beings heal, Theroen. Have you never cut yourself?”

Theroen shrugged. It had never occurred to him. He turned and addressed Naomi directly. “You... enjoy this?”

“I live to serve my mistress.” Naomi’s tone was questioning. She seemed surprised that Theroen found this unusual.

“Liar.” There was mischief in Lisette’s voice. She touched Theroen’s arm, gaining his attention. “She lives for the pleasure.”

“To serve my mistress... and for the pleasure,” Naomi admitted after a moment, a light blush touching her cheeks.

“Naomi has never given blood to a man, Theroen. Would you like to drink from her?”

Theroen considered this. “I’m afraid I might kill her. I have never left prey alive.”

Naomi’s eyes widened. Lisette laughed. “You will do no such thing. Naomi is not your prey. She is my attendant. Or perhaps my soubrette. Sit down, Theroen.”

She beckoned to the couch. Theroen sat, feeling confused and out of place. Lisette, to his right, motioned for Naomi, and the girl sat down to his left. He could hear her heartbeat, quicker than normal.

“You’re frightened of me.”

“No, milord.”

“No lies, Naomi.” Lisette’s voice was soft. Naomi blushed again.

“A bit, perhaps.”

“He’ll not kill you, Naomi. You have my promise. Theroen is Eresh-chen. He is perfectly capable of restraining himself. This is not so different from giving me the blood, though you may find it... more immediately gratifying.”

“Are there differences?” Theroen asked Lisette.

She curled her hand around his, leaned her head in close. Theroen could feel the push of her breasts against his arm. “Are there differences in the pleasures men give women, and those that women give each other, Theroen?”

“I would not know, milady.”

“Lisette.”

“Lisette, I know not.”

“Ah, that is unfortunate, and we will change it soon enough, my young priest. Drink. There is no reason to get Naomi so excited for nothing.”

Theroen looked at the girl. Naomi breathed deeply, returning his gaze with eyes that betrayed both nervousness and a small, burning desire. She arched her head to the side, and Theroen could see the beat of her heart below the flesh of her neck. He leaned his head in close, kissed the spot, felt her heat below his lips. Naomi sighed.

Theroen felt Lisette’s grip on his hand change, moving it to Naomi’s breast. He cradled it, moved his thumb across it, felt her erect nipple below the fabric of her gown. Naomi gasped, moved her head, put her lips on Theroen’s, wrapped her arms around him.

For the first time in his existence, Theroen Anders let himself kiss a woman in passion. He felt her warmth against him, beating heart, shared breath, fire in the touch of her lips. Her tongue, small and insistent, pressed, turned the kiss warm and damp. He responded instinctively, biting down slightly. Naomi winced a moment, then kissed harder, and Theroen tasted her blood, hot in his mouth.

Lisette’s hand guided his. Naomi’s legs lay slightly apart, and Theroen slid her skirts up. He