He pushes himself to his feet. “I'm sorry this is so hard on you,” he says.

"And you thought it wouldn't be?"

He rolls his shoulders. “Most people choose to become,” he says. “It's the only safe way. Occasionally, someone like you has it forced on them. I don't know how to make it better except to assure you that there are others like myself to help you through the transition."

"Wonderful. A fanged support group. Just what I've always wanted."

"Give it a few days,” he says, ignoring the sarcasm. “You will start to feel the change. And you will realize there are some good things—some very good things—that come with the gift."

"Gift? That's how you see it?"

He smiles, a soft, sweet smile. “It's how you will see it, too, eventually. You must, really, if you are to go on."

Go on? Ah, that's the rub, isn't it? Will I choose to go on?

I stay on the couch after Avery leaves. He seemed reluctant to go, after catching my last thought, but finally he did. Now I'm stretched out, watching rays of a dying sun filter through the window and thinking of a hundred other questions I should have asked him. My knowledge of vampire lore comes from books. Works of fiction, or so I thought. Now I realize that, as in most folk tales, there is always a grain of truth. I wonder how many of those books were actually written by vampires? How many vampire cousins do I have? Are there enclaves of vampires in various communities? Is there a secret handshake or sign to identify one vampire to the other?

Vampire.

I'm rolling the word around my tongue and around my brain, trying to make sense of what Avery says is now my reality. I have been given the “gift” of immortality with just one small drawback. I have to drink the blood of unsuspecting humans to sustain that life. Even though Avery painted a titillating picture of wild sexual gratification bestowed on willing victims, they are victims nonetheless. I can't imagine subjecting Max to that. I won't.

So, what to do now?

I close my eyes and put a cushion over my face.

But the darkness isn't quite dark enough.

I get a picture of Avery, tan and good-looking. Normal-looking even. So much for the pale, delicate-skinned vampire who doesn't venture out into the sunlight. Obviously, that's one of the myths perpetuated by books and movies. How did all that get started?

And why hasn't the truth come out before now? And then there's that aversion to garlic—

Oh boy.

The lasagna.

Well, I won't make that mistake again. Obviously, some of those folk tales have basis in fact. That's going to be a hard one, though, giving up Italian food. Especially Luigi's, where the motto is if you don't like garlic, stay home.

But soon I'll be giving up all food, right? Isn't that what Avery said?

The ringing of a telephone interrupts my chain of thought. With a weary sigh, I hoist myself off the couch and trudge over to answer it.

"Well,” a familiar voice tinged with irritation starts right in. “Who the hell is he, Anna? Who's the guy I just saw leave your house?"

"Max?"

"You haven't answered my question."

I cross to the window and look toward the street. “Where are you?"

A figure steps out from the driver's side of a parked car with dark-tinted windows. “Here. See me?"

I nod before I realize he can't see me . “What are you doing out there? Come in."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes. I'm alone. You can relax those secret agent muscles. Now, will you get your ass in here, or do I come out and get you?"

The handsome face splits into a wide grin I can see even from here.

"I was hoping you'd say that. I'm on my way."

It's a reflex action, rushing into Max's arms the moment he appears at the door. For a moment, there's nothing except the feel of his body against mine. The electric touch of his fingers on my neck as he kisses me. I curl into the curve of his body, flesh against flesh, man against woman.

He kicks the door shut with his foot and maneuvers me to the couch.

We fall upon it, breathless, eager.

Then I remember.

It's not exactly man against woman any more.

"Max,” I push against his chest with my hands, forcing him to stop and look at me.

His eyes are the color of the ocean in the morning and I almost lose myself again. But I can't. Already I feel my body responding in such an intense way, if I hesitate now, we might both be lost. “Wait."

He sits back a little, a puzzled smile tweaking the corners of his mouth. He seems to notice what I have on for the first time.

"Is this a new look?” he asks, running a finger along the neckline of the scrubs. “Hospital chic the new rage this season?"

Then he looks at my face, really looks at me, for the first time. His smile freezes, melts away. His finger traces the cut at my hairline.

“Are you hurt? What happened to you?"

I know most of my injuries have faded, only the hint of a cut where Donaldson first hit me remains. And? My hand goes to the wound at my throat. But I feel nothing except a small bump of raised skin. I let Max help me into a sitting position beside him on the couch.

"I got into a little trouble a couple of nights ago."

"A little trouble? How little?"

I move away from him slightly so I can face him squarely. “A skip we were working jumped us."

"Jumped you and David?"

He's frowning now. I feel his body tense, and I put a gentle hand on his arm. “We're okay. Just banged up. The guy you saw leaving? That was the doctor who treated me."

But that bit of news doesn't bring about the response I'd hoped. Max's frown deepens. “Jesus, Anna. The doctor came here to check up on you? It must have been pretty serious."

"No, not really.” I don't want to tell Max anymore than I have to. I start to babble. “I was released from the hospital today. He was in the neighborhood, that's all. And don't look so worried. David is fine. He's with Gloria in LA, so you know he wasn't hurt that bad either. I'm just still a little sore. Guess I bruised a rib or two. Anyway, I'm supposed to take it easy for a week or so."

It sounds lame, even to my ears, but I can't think of any other way to avoid the inevitable. I can't have sex with Max until I learn how to control this thing.

Until I learn how to control this thing?

I'm actually considering Avery's suggestion?

I pull away from Max and get to my feet. I can't trust myself to be this close. I know Max is watching me intently. I feel a familiar tingling in the pit of my stomach, an unwelcome surge of excitement even lower.

"Bruised ribs?” Max is on his feet, too. “Your ribs didn't seem to be hurting a minute ago."

Why did I say bruised ribs? I start to turn away, but Max turns me back. “There's more, isn't there?” His voice is soft and concerned. “What did he do to you, Anna?"

I hesitate and blow out a breath. We had sex, and he turned me into a vampire. “Nothing, Max. Really. I'm more embarrassed than hurt. But I'm just not feeling quite right yet.” I press a hand to my forehead. “My head still hurts, and it's making me a little woozy."

He doesn't believe me, I see it on his face. But he remains silent, contemplative. Finally, he leads me back to the couch, and we sit down side by side. After another long moment, I steal a sideways glance at him. He's watching me.

"David is in LA?” he says.

I nod. “With Gloria.” I know suddenly why he's asking. “You aren't going to bother him, Max,” I say firmly. “I'm telling you it was nothing. We're both going to be just fine."