with the need churning through him. The fact that Ramsey knew what he was feeling only made it worse.
"Just do it." Edward hissed the words between tightly clenched teeth.
"Make a fist."
Edward did as bidden, watching, in morbid fascination, as the vampire bent over his wrist. Never, in a million years, had he imagined he would be nourishing one of the undead.
Grigori swore under his breath as he lifted Ramsey's arm. He could hear the rapid beat of Ramsey's heart. The scent of the man's blood, the fear he was trying to control, filled his nostrils.
He felt his fangs lengthen as he bent over Ramsey's arm.
Edward's right hand tightened around the stake until his knuckles went white with the strain.
Marisa stood across the room, her hand at her throat, feeling as though she were trapped in a living nightmare that had no end. Edward looked up, grimacing as he met her gaze. She tried to smile; instead, she felt tears well in her eyes. Tears of gratitude for Edward's sacrifice, tears of pity for Grigori.
After what seemed like an eternity but was probably less than a minute, Grigori released Ramsey's arm and stood up.
"Thank you. I know how difficult that was for you," Grigori said stiffly. "You should get something to drink."
Edward rolled his shirtsleeve down. "Does this mean you'll be able to read my mind now?"
"I could always read your mind, Ramsey."
Edward stood up. He looked at Marisa, then at Grigori. "I'm going back to bed."
"Ramsey."
Edward turned around. "What do you want now, vampire?"
"Tomorrow," Grigori said, his voice ragged with pain. "Be swift. And merciful."
With a curt nod, Edward left the room.
"She won't feel it, will she?" Marisa asked, horrified to think that Antoinette might be aware of what was happening to her.
"I don't know. I hope not."
"Where will you sleep tomorrow?"
Grigori shrugged. "I don't know. I'll find a place, don't worry."
She went to sit beside him on the bench. "Have you ever regretted becoming a vampire?"
"No." He had enjoyed being a vampyre. He was never tired, never sick. He didn't suffer from the usual aches and pains that plagued mankind. He could move with preternatural speed. He had watched nations rise and fall, seen man leave the earth behind and take to the stars. And yet... His gaze moved over Marisa in a long, heated caress. "I've never regretted it," he said heavily. "Until now."
"Would you be mortal again, if you could?"
"I don't know, but it isn't possible, even if I wished it."
"Oh." Suddenly weary, she leaned back and closed her eyes, wishing, with all her heart, that she had never ventured out of her house on that rainy Halloween night.
Several minutes passed, and then she felt Grigori's arm slip around her shoulders. Grateful for his nearness, she snuggled against him, felt his hand stroke her cheek.
He was still holding her when she fell asleep.
She woke to the smell of coffee brewing. With a frown, she sat up. For a moment, she had almost imagined herself at home. Brushing the hair from her face, she stood up. It was then that she saw the dress lying across the foot of the bed. It was a pretty thing. The bodice was a rich, lustrous green silk with long, full sleeves and a square neckline edged in delicate rows of white lace; the full skirt was made of varying shades of light and dark green silk and satin. There was a note lying beside it. Curious, she picked it up. The message was brief: You shouldn't have to wear another woman's clothes. I hope the shoes fit.
Grigori's name was scrawled across the bottom of the paper.
How had he known it made her uncomfortable to wear Antoinette's clothes?
Slipping out of her borrowed apparel, she drew the gown over her head, smoothed it over her hips. The skirt fell to the floor in a whisper of silk. She found the shoes at the foot of the bed. They were half boots, actually, made of kidskin.
"A little fancy for every day," she remarked. But the silk felt heavenly against her skin. The boots, she discovered, fit perfectly.
Feeling a little like Juliet, she went into the kitchen.
"Hey," Edward said.
"Hey yourself," Marisa replied with a grin. "I see you got a new wardrobe, too."
Ramsey grunted as he regarded his outfit. The shirt was stiff white linen with a fall of lace down the front. The trousers were mustard-colored, tighter than he normally wore. Grigori had provided a coat, as well. Made of dark brown wool, it