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feathering gently back and forth. "I would not allow Gary to be in any real danger. He cannot live his life in hiding."

I should have protected Peter. He would be alive right now if it wasn't for me.

Savannah's voice was husky with grief, the unshed tears clinging to his mind.

I alone am to blame for Peter's death, ma petite.

It was my responsibility to detect the vampire's presence. I had not felt any emotion in so long, so many centuries, and when I went into your show and saw you, colors nearly blinded me. Feelings overwhelmed me. I was sorting them out and trying to get my self under control. In all the centuries of my existence, it was the only time I have failed to detect the presence of the undead. Peter's death is something I must live with.

He felt her instant denial of his assessment of the situation, the quick spring to his defense. And it warmed him as nothing else ever could.

As they moved out of the rooming house and through the rain-wet streets, mingling with the unexpected crowds, he thought about the way she made him feel. He was always in control - it was necessary for one of his power and predatory nature - yet she could make him feel as if he was spinning into orbit.

Gregori glanced down at the top of her silky head and allowed the emotion to wash over him, through him. Just watching her brought him a measure of peace and a flood of warmth. He found he could enjoy the upbeat music, even the craziness of the tourists laughing and crushing close in the streets and on the sidewalks. Merged with her, he could feel what she was feeling - carefree, her sense of humor, the quick interest she had in everything and everyone around her. She spoke to people easily, held them in the palm of her hand with the same ease she held him so captivated.

When he took her home after settling Gary back at his room, Gregori turned Savannah into his arms. "You are my world," he whispered softly, meaning it.

She leaned her head into his shoulder, inhaling his masculine scent. "Thank you for going out tonight. I know it's hard for you to be among humans, but I've spent the last five years living among them. It's been so long since I've had contact with any of our people."

"I have a hard time," he admitted. "I want to supply what you need, Savannah. It is difficult to understand the need in you for their company."

"You've always been so solitary, Gregori," she said softly, "where I've had humans around me since I left home."

His mouth found her temples, then drifted across her eyelids and down to her mouth. He lifted her as his lips teased hers, cradling her in his arms. He took her up the stairs to one of the bedrooms. Gregori made gentle, tender love to her, incredibly reverent, showing her with his body what he never seemed to be able to express adequately in words.

Chapter Seventeen

Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop was dark and mysterious, the perfect setting for the beginning of such a fun adventure. Savannah laughed softly as a couple of locals shook their heads at the pack of crazy tourists crowding into the tavern to join the vampire hunt. She could feel Gregori inwardly wincing, the desire to dissolve and be invisible paramount in his mind, but he hung in there grimly. He turned heads with his impressive stature, the power that sat so easily on his broad shoulders. His expression was stoically impassive, the silver eyes restless, merciless, missing nothing.

Within the bar's darkened interior, the peculiar night vision their species had gave them an advantage. Gary flanked them, astonished at how many tourists actually went on these hunts. Savannah shot him a glare. "We're here to have fun, Gary. Don't start acting like Gregori on me. One grump raining on my parade is enough."

Gary leaned close. "If you wouldn't read people's thoughts all the time, snoop, you might not get so bent out of shape."

"I was not reading your thoughts," Savannah objected with an injured expression, her lush mouth in a frankly sexy pout. "It was written all over your face."

Gregori was definitely having a hard time. Carpathian males rarely allowed other men near their lifemates, certainly not unattached males. He hated the press of bodies. Savannah attracted men the way bees went for honey. Heads turned, and hot gazes followed her