Part 3 (1/2)

”Of course he can't.” Marc scoffed at the suggestion. ”Mommies are ladies and Uncle never brings ladies home. You know that.”

Julie nodded grudging agreement. Damian stared at them both. It really shouldn't startle him that the children were perceptive enough to have noticed the differences in his and Conrad's preferences, even at this age. But, ay Dios, here was yet another conversation they would have to have with the twins-years sooner than he'd thought it would become an issue. Buenisimo. Conrad would be so pleased.

”I wish you could though,” Julie murmured mournfully.

”Me too.” Marc mumbled, burying his face in Damian's s.h.i.+rtfront once again.

”S. I, too, wish there was something more I could do for you both,” Damian said. His words gave rise to a thought. Nothing could restore their mother to them, of course, and recruiting a replacement was equally impossible since letting anyone else in on the secret of the children's true nature was far too great a risk to take, but perhaps there was a way to make them feel a little better. ”Now, mis ninos, you must dry your eyes and finish your cookies. I have an idea.”

”Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight...”

The voices carried on the still night air. Conrad followed the sound to the rear of the house where three figures stood in the backyard, hand in hand, faces turned toward the sky. Warmth and satisfaction filled him at the sight. Of all the hearts currently beating in the world, these were the three he held most dear. On nights like these, he could almost believe he could make this work. That he could keep them safe. That he could keep them alive. That he could, perhaps, even make them happy.

He left the patio and crossed the lawn, cool gra.s.s tickling against the soles of his bare feet as he made his way toward his family. On nights like these, when even the air was gentle and calm, his fears seemed as distant as a dream, and all his worries unwarranted. Even the s.e.xual frustration that had been riding him far too hard these past few years was momentarily quiescent.

He'd been a fool to imagine he could simply do without s.e.x altogether. He'd promised Damian he would respect his wishes that they not be lovers, and so he would. No matter how infuriating he found the ban. But ignoring his needs and suppressing his desires was a dangerous business. The beast within him fed on his frustration-he certainly didn't need to be reminded of that! It grew stronger, more dominant, and so much harder to manage or contain the longer he tried to deny himself.

In the beginning, when the twins were very young, it had made sense for him to nourish the beast. He'd deliberately kept his nerves on edge and kept himself in a perpetual state of combat readiness. A calm demeanor and a pleasant temperament were luxuries he couldn't afford, not if it meant sacrificing even a small portion of his strength. But now, when it seemed possible that he and Damian might actually survive the twins' childhood, it was time to relax his guard.

He could hardly blame Damian for wis.h.i.+ng to keep his distance. Conrad had given him sufficient cause to fear him. He'd hurt him so badly it was a wonder Damian had agreed to come back to him in any capacity at all!

Even if he could no longer view Damian as a lover, that didn't mean they couldn't attempt to live peaceably with one another, to be friends perhaps. It didn't mean that Conrad couldn't hope they might someday be more. It certainly didn't mean he would not make every effort to change Damian's mind on the subject either.

Before he could hope to achieve any of these goals, however, Conrad must first ensure that he could hold on to his temper, that he could resist flying off the handle over every little thing. If regular s.e.x with willing strangers was the key to enabling him to accomplish that feat, so be it. It was hardly the worst regimen he'd ever had to adhere to.

”...wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.”

What were they wis.h.i.+ng for, Conrad wondered. He laughed softly as he drew up behind them. ”It's a little late in the day for making wishes, is it not, my dears? Look around you. Morning is on the verge. The first star of the evening is long since set by now. Or so I should think.”

The twins turned their heads as one, mouths falling open, eyes widening in alarm as they gaped at him. Conrad blinked at their dismay. This was not the reaction he'd been expecting. As he met their crestfallen gazes, he bit back a growl of disgust at his own clumsiness. He'd only meant to tease them. When he caused unhappiness, it should be intentional-not like now.

Conrad shook his head in bemus.e.m.e.nt as the children turned back to Damian, as though seeking confirmation that Conrad was wrong. It shocked him, sometimes, to realize how little he understood these children he'd raised since birth-or how little they seemed to understand him. But, then again, he wasn't the only one who'd had a hand in raising them either, was he?

”It's all right, mis ninos.” There was a trace of annoyance in Damian's voice, but the smile with which he favored the twins held nothing but love and rea.s.surance. ”There's nothing to worry about. The words to the rhyme were perfectly clear, were they not? It's the first star I see, not the first star that rises. Your wishes are safe.”

The twins' taut expressions relaxed as they returned Damian's smile. A wholly unwarranted sensation of jealousy twisted Conrad's heart, the sting of it twice as sharp because he knew that, by rights, all he should really be feeling right now was grat.i.tude and relief. At least the children had someone who could correctly intuit their odd moods.

Maybe it was the fact Damian was so much younger-only half as old as Conrad-that accounted for his better understanding of the children. Or perhaps it was because Damian was operating free of the guilt and responsibility that so weighed on Conrad's soul. It certainly wasn't because Damian had intentionally sought to supplant Conrad's place in the twins' hearts and minds. At least Conrad was reasonably certain that was not the case.

Then Damian raised his gaze to Conrad's face and Conrad was no longer quite so sure. The gleam in Damian's eyes tonight was glacial and unexpectedly malevolent; even his voice held more than a hint of spite. ”Done so soon? How very efficient of you. I was certain you'd be able to last for at least a few hours.”

”Did you?” With the best will in the world, Conrad could not suppress a spark of annoyance. Making love might very well take hours-and certainly he could last that long. He'd dearly love to remind Damian of that fact right now. Maybe even back up the claim with a small sample. But with the children present, hanging on every word, that could never happen. ”Perhaps I was simply not in the mood to linger.” All Conrad had done tonight was scratch an itch, something that need take no time at all. Still, it had been enough to satisfy him, or so he'd told himself, until Damian's words conjured up memories of other nights with other lovers. Of times when the entire night had not seemed sufficient to express his love.

Damian shrugged. ”No. Obviously not. How very disappointing that must have been for the both of you.”

”What have you all been doing out here?” Conrad asked, ignoring the jibe and shoving his memories aside to focus on the present.

”Oh, nothing with which you need concern yourself, I a.s.sure you.” Damian sketched a meaningless wave in the air. ”We were doing nothing of any earth-moving importance.”

Conrad smiled at Damian's gaffe. ”I'm very much relieved to hear it, although I believe, my dear, the term you're searching for is 'earth-shattering'.”

”Is it?” Damian paused, head c.o.c.ked to the side, as thought mulling the question over. ”S. I suppose you're correct. For, after all, the earth did not move out here either. Sad, is it not? In any case, the children and I have merely been seeking interesting ways of occupying ourselves until it was time for them to eat.”

”Well, they can do that now.” Conrad turned to the twins. ”Go ahead, children. You may go in now and start your meal. But carefully, just as you were taught. No roughness. Is that understood?”

The children nodded and ran off. Damian stared after them, his expression uneasy. ”Conrad, are you sure it's wise to leave them alone with your guest? They're still so young... I don't think we can reasonably expect them to be in complete control of their impulses yet.”

”I know. I'll go after them in a moment,” Conrad promised. ”But, first...what's really going on here tonight?” He laid his hand on Damian's sleeve, far more lightly than he wished. Too lightly to even count as a caress. Still, Damian seemed to stiffen. Conrad lifted his hand away at once. ”I've just come from the kitchen. Have you been...cooking?”

”S. Baking, to be precise. I'm just trying to help the children feel more normal; and act more like normal, human children as well. It's important that they be able to fit in-both now and also when they're adults. I thought teaching them a basic familiarity with the kinds of things other children seem to like was a good place to start.”

”And wis.h.i.+ng on stars? Is that also something you feel will help them fit in?”

”Perhaps. Why? Have you something against wis.h.i.+ng now?”

”No. I just wonder if it's wise to put such foolish notions into their heads. Do you really imagine the heavens are at all concerned with the likes of us?” They were vampires, monsters, freaks of nature. And it had always seemed to Conrad that the constellations were not just distant, but also supremely disinterested in anyone's wishes-human or otherwise.

Damian merely shrugged. ”They're children, Conrad. What harm could there be in letting them dream? Or, would you take away their innocence so soon?”

”I didn't say there was harm in it, exactly, I just...” He just wished it could ever be that simple. He wished he knew for certain whether any of their dreams had even the slightest chance of coming true, never mind a few of his own. ”I'd hate to see them disappointed and it seems farfetched to expect such wishes to come true, does it not?”

Damian sighed. ”I suppose so. But, tell me, Conrad, farfetched or not, have you never once wished for something you knew you couldn't have?”

Once? Conrad shook his head. More like every single night for the past hundred and twenty years. Try as he might, he couldn't keep the sneer from his lips-or his voice. ”Frequently. Only I'm not fool enough to believe that wis.h.i.+ng alone will ever make such dreams come true.” Or so he kept telling himself.

A fool? Damian drew in a startled breath. Is that how he thinks of me? But why even ask? He was a fool, was he not? Why else would he have spent decades clinging to the same hopeless dream? ”I see.” And he did. Finally. He saw that, by waiting on Conrad, praying that someday things would change, Damian had not merely been wasting time. He'd been squandering years of his life, throwing away any chance to find love or happiness elsewhere. He smiled coldly. ”Well, I'm sure you're quite right, querido. As always. And, on that note, if you'll be so kind as to monitor the children's progress? I think I'll go out for a bite to eat myself.”

”Certainly.” A faint look of disappointment appeared on Conrad's face. Damian ignored it. He was finished with trying to puzzle together what Conrad wanted, or thought or cared about. Damian dipped his head in a brief nod, then turned away.

”It's getting close to morning,” Conrad called. ”You won't be out late, will you?”

”S. It's entirely possible,” Damian replied without turning around. ”Don't wait up.”

Chapter Four.

December 28, 2009 Night had fallen. The vampires were waking up. In the small efficiency apartment located over the estate's garage, Julie Fischer's eyes blinked open. She sucked in a quick breath and glanced around, surprised to find herself sprawled on the floor. Had there been an earthquake? Or had something else knocked her out of bed and startled her from sleep?

Whatever the cause, she was grateful for it. Her dreams had been so far from pleasant, she was glad for any excuse to escape them. An instant later, however, the dreams were all but forgotten. Somewhere close at hand, the anxious throbbing of a human heart begged for her attention.

Come and take me... Come and take me... Come and take me...

Fangs unsheathed, Julie went into a crouch and surveyed the room. The darkness aided her vision, which was always sharper by night, and she quickly oriented on the sound. There. Brennan stood just out of reach on the far side of the bed. Tousle-haired and naked, he had the look of a man who'd just had a good fright. Disappointment settled in Julie's heart, fueled by an uneasy feeling of dej vu. They'd been here and done this before. This was not the first time she'd seen that look on his face. This was not the first time she'd scared him.

It took her a moment to dial down her hunger the necessary notch or two, to keep it from showing too obviously on her face. While she waited, she licked her lips and peered at him curiously. He looked good-no surprise there-tall and dark with bright blue eyes and a day's worth of stubble shadowing his jaw. He looked altogether scrumptious, except for the scowl. That scowl was all wrong. Julie cleared her throat. ”Something bothering you, Bren?”