LOVE BITES Page 0,46

she hadn't needed it for anything since being turned. She had decided she would have to look around when she returned to the house, because she wanted to repay Marguerite right away. The woman had been incredibly sweet, and Rachel didn't want to take advantage of her kindness.

"What woman could live without chocolate?"

Rachel glanced to the speaker--Jeanne Louise, a woman as beautiful in her way as Lissianna and Marguerite, though she looked nothing like them. Her face was rounder, her lips a little thinner, her eyes more exotic and her hair a midnight black. She was a cousin to Lissianna and niece to Marguerite, and while Rachel liked all three women, Jeanne Louise was someone with whom Rachel was pretty sure she could be best friends. The woman worked for Argeneau Industries in their labs, and had regaled her with stories of the work she did. She'd been rather vague until realizing Rachel had no problem following what she was saying; then excited to find someone who had a working knowledge of experimental techniques and jargon, the other woman went into depth, fascinating Rachel with the tests she was performing. It seemed Argeneau Industries was as interested in medical research as anyone else.

The two women had only stopped talking once the games started, which were, much to Rachel's amazement, the usual at wedding showers. At that point, it had all seemed so pedestrian she might have forgotten the guests were vampires. Rachel sat silent for a while, simply noting the different looks and personalities in the room. The guests were all different: short women, tall women, beautiful women, homely women. As for personalities, there were a couple of sophisticated types who seemed to drawl their words and look down their noses; girl-next-door types who were sweet and kind; a few smart-girl types who looked slightly uncomfortable and spoke softly; and there was even a vampy vamp in a skintight black outfit who teased

Lissianna unendingly about the wedding night to come. It was your basic mix, just like your everyday shower.

Forgetting that Marguerite could read her mind, Rachel had been startled when the woman suddenly leaned close and murmured, "Of course it is, dear. We're normal people, just as you are."

"Except that you're all several hundred years old and likely to get a lot older," she'd pointed out.

"So will you," Marguerite reminded her with amusement. "But we're all still just people. Think of us like cars. We have extra rust protection that will make us last longer, but we're still just cars in the end--with the same worries and concerns as cars without rust proofing. Besides," she'd added, "there are a couple of girls here who are under a hundred. Jeanne Louise is only ninety-two."

Rachel had turned to look at the beautiful lab technician and shaken her head. "She's the sexiest ninety-two I've ever seen."

Jeanne Louise had overheard the comment and laughed.

"Besides, Black Forest blood cake doesn't sound very appetizing at all," she was saying now.

Drawn back to the conversation at hand, Rachel sliced off a piece. "No, it doesn't. I don't know how you manage to stomach ingesting blood. Etienne says it's an acquired taste, but I seem to be having trouble.

If it weren't for the pain and weakness when I don't get it, I'd give up."

She forked herself some cake and started to chew, then paused when Jeanne Louise and Marguerite exchanged a glance. Rachel didn't know if it was her improving instincts or not, but she was positive the women were conversing mentally. About her. Eyebrows raised in question, she asked, "What?"

"Nothing, dear." Marguerite patted her arm and smiled. "Enjoy your cake. And here, have some tea."

Rachel accepted the tea, and she ate and drank in silence for a moment, simply listening to the talk around her. Then she asked Marguerite, "How long did it take you to adjust to ingesting blood?"

This time she didn't mistake the glance Jeanne Louise and Marguerite exchanged. They were talking silently about her. Then Etienne's mother smiled and said, "I adjusted relatively quickly, dear. Right away, really. But it was different, then. There were no blood banks. We had to eat 'off the hoof,' as we used to say."

Rachel didn't even try to hide her horror. "Off the hoof?"

"Well..." Marguerite smiled and shrugged. "You call corpses crispy critters and such to help disassociate yourself from the unpleasantness of them being dead. We, much in the same way, had phrases and such to distance ourselves emotionally from having to feed off otherwise perfectly