Dirty Little Secret

Epilog

2008-06-20T21:09:00.002-05:00

One hundred years in the future...

Mac sat on the lanai looking out over the rolling waves on the beach of Jamaica. She and Jon had been living in this house for the last ten years. Although, the names they were using now were James and Marti. The two of them had lived such a happy life and still had many more years ahead of them.

Sadly, she thought of her parents who had died over seventy years ago and Sandy, whom she’d lost just twenty-eight years later. Her friend had ended up married to Richie. They’d had a long and rich life. Mac had been so happy for her friends the day they’d married. She and Jon had attended each of their funerals, in disguise of course.

Jon still wrote music, although now his only audience was her and their two sons. Mac stroked her abdomen lovingly. She really hoped this child was a daughter.

She felt a pair of strong hands caress her shoulders. She hadn’t even heard his approach, but she seldom did. "Daydreaming again?" he asked.

Mac knew she’d never get tired of the sound of his voice. "Just thinking about our wonderful life," she told him.

"And it’ll only get better," he promised her. "I love you, moglie mia."

"I love you too, husband."

Chapter Thirty-five

2008-04-19T11:59:00.002-05:00

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Jon woke to find Mac already awake and propped up on one elbow watching him intently. "Is something wrong, moglie mia?"

"Nope, I was just enjoying watching you sleep. I was so relieved to wake up and find you still here. To know it wasn’t all a dream."

He sat up just enough to brush her lips with his in a gentle good morning kiss. "Nope, no dream. I hate to break the mood, but my trial starts soon."

"Make love to me again," she pleaded.

Jon did just that. Desperation dripped from every move he made. He was afraid this might very well be the last time he would be able to hold her like this, to love her like this.

When Jon’s vampire escorts knocked on the door, Jon and Mac had showered, dressed, and eaten the breakfast that Kristoff had sent up to them. Jon kissed Mac, told her he loved her, and silently went with the guards. Mac waited on Richie to show up, but when he did, he’d left the humor she’d been hoping for to lighten her spirts in his room.

Silently, the two of them entered the courtroom and took their seats behind Jon and his guards. Mac couldn’t resist the urge to reach out one hand and run her fingers through his blond mane. Briefly, Jon’s head leaned back into her caress, but he jerked it back upright when the Council filed into the room.

Once they were all seated, Constantine asked in a booming voice, so unlike him, "Giovanni, please stand."

Solemnly, Jon did as requested. Before the other vampire could order Jon to drop the mental walls and allow him into his head, Jon announced, "I’m ready."

The room fell silent as Constantine linked up to Jon’s mind. Jon could feel the other vampire riffling through his memories, almost like a speed reader turning the pages of a book. Mac whispered to Richie, asking him what was going on, and the guitarist filled her in, explaining what had been agreed upon the day before. Mac could see every muscle in Jon’s body was tense in expectation. She knew now why he’d refused to discuss his case.

Finally, Constantine announced to the room, "He didn’t try to influence her testimony." With that simple statement the trial began.

Kristoff looked at Richie. "Richie Sambora, please rise."

Richie stood up slowly. It was a good thing Jon couldn’t see the look on the guitarist face, otherwise he would’ve known there was about to be trouble.

"Mr. Sambora, please tell us your version of the events from the night Giovanni turned his life mate," Sebastian said loudly.

Richie smirked. "I plea the fifth," was all he said before he promptly sat back down.

His ass hadn’t even met the chair before Jon was jumping to his feet. "Please, don’t punish him. He doesn’t know the rules."

Richie frowned at his friend’s defense of him. Smiling at Richie’s audacity, Constantine explained, "Mr. Sambora, first of all, you’re not in America; there is no fifth amendment here. Secondly, we’re not asking you to testify against yourself, so even if there were such an amendment, it wouldn’t apply."

"Rich, just tell them what happened," Jon told him.

Richie recognized that tone of voice from Jon and realized what Jon was leaving unsaid. The guitarist quickly related the events of Mac’s turning. Just the turning. He couldn’t see the smile on Jon’s face, but he knew it was there.

"Did Giovanni have Ms. Donaldson’s permission to turn her?" Sebastian asked with a tight smile.

"I can honestly say that I was never present for any conversation the two of them may have had concerning Mac becoming a vampire," Richie said, still smirking. "Therefore, I can’t answer that question with any certainty."

Richie almost laughed out loud at the frown on Sebastian’s face. Obviously, the vampire had hoped to make Richie incriminate his friend. Well, he was just shit out of luck.

Constantine gave Richie a quick nod. "You may now be seated."

With evil glee, Sebastian’s voice boomed across the room. "Ms. Mac Donaldson, please stand."

Mac took a deep breath, and Richie gave her shoulder a quick consolatory pat. Mac stood up, holding her head at a proud, defiant tilt, and quickly spouted off a rhyme. She hoped that the magic shield had not been put back in place. "He is my love, he is my life, someday I hope to be his wife. So, I ask, nay I demand, he not be killed by your hand."

The echo of her last word hadn’t died away, before Jon jumped to his feet. "Please, don’t kill her!" he yelled.

"Shut up, Jon," Mac ordered. "I did the rhyme, I’ll do the time."

Richie was laughing uncontrollably. Jon was still trying to convince the Council not to punish Mac. She was yelling at him to stay out of it. The guards even joined in the fray, snickering softly at the argument between Jon and Mac.

Into the cacophony, Sebastian’s booming voice rang out. "Order, order," he demanded.

Constantine was chuckling softly, and Kristoff was just staring at Mac in stunned disbelief. The room fell silent.

"Ms. Donaldson, please just tell us the events of the night in question," Constantine said, between chuckles.

Quickly, Mac told her version of the events, without embellishments, but leaving out how she’d actually felt about being turned.

"And did Giovanni have your permission for the turn?" Sebastian asked, his smirk back in place.

"I refuse to answer that," Mac said defiantly. Before any of the Council members could say anything, she raised one hand to stop them. "Where I come from, a wife can not be compelled to testify against her husband. Surely, life mates would fall into the same category."

"But we are not ‘where you come from’," Sebastian replied quickly. "You will answer the question or we will immediately hand down a guilty verdict."

"I was unconscious and unable to give permission," she answered.

Sebastian frowned at her answer. Apparently, this was not going as he had expected.

Constantine stepped in then. "Ms. Donaldson, I believe that the question should have been, would you have given permission if you’d been able to do so."

"I don’t know," Mac answered, smiling. "Hindsight is 20/20. I don’t know how I would’ve reacted then, but I can say that now, I don’t have a problem with being a vampire."

Kristoff told Mac that she could sit, then asked Jon to stand. Once Jon was on his feet, Sebastian took great joy in asking, "Giovanni, did you and your life mate ever discuss her becoming one of us before the night in question?"

"Yes," Jon answered.

"And, had she expressed a desire to become a vampire?" Sebastian asked, as if he already knew the answer.

"No. She had not," Jon answered, honestly. Although, he would’ve preferred to lie.

"I’ve heard enough," Sebastian announced.

"I haven’t," Constantine said loudly. "I have one more question for Ms. Donaldson."

"Yes?" Mac asked, expectantly.

"Would you be willing to follow the laws handed down by this Council and any future Council members as befitting a member of our race?"

"I would," Mac answered, nodding. "Once they’re all explained to me."

Constantine smiled. "Don’t worry, we have a book."

"A handbook? Oh, joy," she whispered as she sat back down, her voice filled with sarcasm.

Constantine burst into laughter. "Now, I’ve heard enough."

Kristoff stood. "This Council will now convene to discuss our decision in this case."

The members of the Council filed out of the room, leaving a silence behind them. Knowing that with the trial all but over that there wouldn’t be any objections from his guards, Jon pulled Mac into his arms.

"You were wonderful," he whispered against her hair. "But, damn it, you scared the shit outta me when you started rhyming."

"Sorry ‘bout that," she told him, "but I had to at least try."

His humor restored, Richie slapped Jon on the back. "I have a good feeling about this."

"I hope you’re right," Jon told his friend.

Their discussion was interrupted when the Council filed back into the room. Sebastian looking furious, but the other members were smiling. This had to be a good sign.

Smiling at Jon, Kristoff announced, "Giovanni Bongiovi, by a vote of two to one, this Council finds you not guilty."

Richie let out a whoop of delight, and Jon picked Mac up and spun her around.

"You are all free to go," Kristoff told them. "However, Giovanni, I hope that you, your friend, and your life mate will stay for a few days and enjoy my hospitality."

"My life mate has business that needs to be seen to immediately," Jon informed him. "And, Richie and I have stuff to do as well. But, Mac and I will come back for a visit soon, my friend."

The mood on the flight back to the States was decidedly better than the flight to Russia. Richie had fallen asleep soon after take off, having not slept very well since this had all began. Jon sat on the plush couch in the main cabin of the jet with Mac on his lap.

"Did you mean what you said to the Council?" he asked.

"I said a lot to the Council. Could you be more specific?"

"Your rhyme. ‘He is my love, he is my life’," he clarified.

"How could you have any doubts, Jon," she answered, smiling. "I love you."

"I’ve never been happier to hear three words in my life," he told her. "I love you too, moglie mia."

Chapter Thirty-four

2008-04-12T21:59:00.002-05:00

Once in the hall, Jon had no idea which direction to go, but when Richie ran out the door and called out, "This way," as he ran off down the hall to the left, Jon followed him. There was a guard outside Mac’s door. Kristoff had taken that precaution, knowing Jon would leave the courtroom with or without permission from the Council. The guard stopped them from entering the room, but Kristoff came running around the corner and slid to a stop beside Jon.

"He has permission from the Council to be here," Kristoff told the guard.

"She’s in bad shape, Jon," Richie warned.

"How long has she went without blood?" Jon asked.

"The last blood she had was before the end of Caleb’s trial. The next blood I brought her she refused," Kristoff answered.

"I’m gonna need to have extra blood before I can give her all she needs," Jon told him. "I’ll get started now, then feed, then feed her again."

With the most serious look Jon had ever seen on Richie’s face, the guitarist held out his wrist, offering it to Jon. "Take what you need."

Jon shook his head. "I can’t take that much from you."

"Then take enough to get this started," Richie replied quickly.

Jon looked at the assembled group, then at Richie, "Let’s do this inside. And Kris, get us a bag of ice. Quickly, please."

Kristoff nodded and hurried off to get the requested ice.

Once in the room, Richie sat on the sofa where he’d been sleeping and offered his wrist again. Jon shook his head again, but before Richie could protest, he quickly explained, "I wanna see her first. I’ll be right back."

Richie nodded his acceptance, understanding completely. Jon disappeared through the door into Mac’s bedroom. What he found there made him pale instantly and almost cry out. She looked like death itself. At first, Jon thought he was too late, but he heard her ragged breathing and rushed to the side of her bed.

"Mac," he said softly, tenderly brushing the hair off her forehead. "I’m here, baby. We’ll fix this and you’ll be fine in no time." He bent to gently kiss her forehead. "I’ll be right back, moglie mia."

Reluctantly, he left her and went back out to find Richie still waiting on the sofa and Kristoff back with the bag of ice. "I should warn you, I’ve never fed from a man before," Jon admitted to Richie. He took the bag of ice from Kristoff and handed it to Richie. "Put this in your lap," he ordered.

"Why?" Richie asked.

"Just do it," Jon ordered harshly. "I wanna be able to look you in the eye after this, and just trust me, you’ll thank me later." He turned to Kristoff. "Will you leave us alone now, please?"

The Russian nodded. "Of course, tell the guard outside if you need anything else."

When Kristoff had left the room, Richie gave Jon a questioning look. "It’s a very sexual experience, Rich," Jon explained. "You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, and if you wanna back out, I’ll understand."

"Let’s just get it over with," Richie said with a quick nod.

Jon took Richie’s offered hand in his, and reached out to his friend’s mind. There was the expected resistance, then Richie opened his mind to Jon. Close your eyes and lean back, he told the guitarist. Relax. Jon watched as Richie did what he’d told him. He didn’t even question why he was able to get into Richie’s head.

Richie’s eyes popped open wide, when a wave of pleasure washed over him. He’d expected pain when Jon’s fangs pierced the tender skin of his wrist. Not this indescribable, incredible, pleasure. Chocolate brown eyes met sky blue ones before Richie’s lids drifted closed again. He didn’t think he’d ever been so damn grateful to have a bag of ice in his lap.

When Jon had finished feeding, out of habit, he almost laved the wound tenderly with his tongue. But, he remembered himself, and knew that Richie would not thank him for what would’ve been a completely inappropriate gesture. Jon almost laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing, but instead just said, "Thanks Rich."

Richie removed the ice from his lap. "No, thank you. Besides, what’s a little blood between brothers?" Jon nodded and started toward the bedroom. "Jon," Richie waited until his friend turned back to him before continuing, "we take this one to the grave!"

"Of course," Jon answered, his lips twisting into a wry grin. "Have the guard outside get you a bandage for your wrist," he ordered, then disappeared through the door.

In the bedroom, Jon carefully crawled into bed with Mac, who was laying on her side. He pulled her back against him, and like he’d done in El Paso, he pierced his wrist with his fangs and held it tenderly to her lips. "Drink, tesoro mia," he commanded gently. With his other hand, he stroked her throat slowly to help her swallow. After several minutes, she began to drink on her own. Regretfully, Jon pulled his wrist away from her lips. "I’ll have to feed again before I can give you anymore, moglie mia," he whispered in her ear.

Mac’s eyes opened slowly. "Jon?" she murmured weakly.

"Yeah, baby," he answered, hugging her tightly. "Just rest now, moglie mia. I’ll feed you again soon."

When she relaxed back against him and her deep breathing told him she was asleep, he carefully crawled out of the bed. He needed to go feed again. It was going to be a long night, and he had no intention of leaving her until the sun rose.

Kristoff waited in the living area of the suite with a maid for him to feed from. "How is she?"

"Better, but she needs more blood," Jon answered his friend.

The other vamp nodded. "The Council has agreed that you should stay with her tonight," he paused here to smile at his friend. "Make good use of the night, Giovanni."

"I intend to," Jon replied.

When Jon went back into Mac’s bedroom freshly fed and ready to feed her again, he found her wide awake and sitting up in the bed.

"Feeling better, I see," he replied.

"Yeah," she nodded and rubbed her stomach, "but I can tell I’m still hungry."

Jon stood looking at her for long moments. He’d been so damn worried about her. "Why the fuck would you do this?" he asked, as his anger finally bubbled to the surface. "I was so worried about you, Mac."

"Don’t yell at me," she ordered.

"I’m not yelling," he yelled.

"Yes, you are."

"Answer my question," he told her, his voice soft, but anything but calm.

"I wanted to see you, ya ass," she answered. "Why didn’t you tell me that they’d kill you if you’re found guilty?"

He had the grace to look embarrassed. "I didn’t want you to worry," he answered, sheepishly as he walked over and sat on the side of the bed. Jon reached out with one hand to gently caress her cheek. "I love you, moglie mia. Forgive me for not being able to put fear in your eyes?"

She smiled at him. "I guess."

"Good," he nodded once. "Now, time to get on with your spanking," he told her pulling her into his lap.

Mac was laughing and trying to fight him off, but he was way stronger, even if she hadn’t been still a little weak from hunger. "A spanking? For what?"

He hugged her tight. "For scaring the shit outta me," he answered.

There wasn’t any spanking, but Jon’s mouth descended on hers. Kissing her deeply, while her arms slipped around his neck, her fingers playing in the hair at his nape. "God, how I’ve missed you," he whispered heatedly against the skin of her neck.

"I’ve missed you too, Jon," she said softly into his hair. She caught the clean scent of his shampoo. "Do you ‘spose, that instead of a spanking I could have a hot bath?"

"Your wish is my command, moglie mia," he told her as he stood with her still nestled in his arms.

Jon carried her to the bathroom and sat her down on the toilet. He started the tub filling with steaming hot water, then asked if there was anything else she wanted while the tub filled. Mac told him that she’d really like to brush her teeth and to be alone for a few minutes. Smiling at her shyness, Jon left her alone in the bathroom.

Still a little weak, it took Mac a little longer than normal to brush her teeth and use the bathroom, but when she’d finished she called out to Jon. He quickly reappeared and turned off the water, then began to undress her slowly.

Once he had all her clothes in a neat little pile in the floor, Jon helped Mac step into the tub. She leaned back against the cool porcelain and watched as Jon gathered all of her bath necessities from the counter around the sink.

"I think I can take it from here," she told him softly.

"Naaa, I don’t think you can," he replied, grinning. He got down on his knees next to the tub.

Mac just shrugged and slid down in the tub, soaking her long hair. When she rose back out of the water, Jon had already poured some of her shampoo into his palm and gently lathered her hair. She groaned as his fingers tenderly massaged her scalp as he worked the suds through her hair.

"That feels so good," she said on a sigh.

"Good, it’s supposed to," he answered.

Jon helped her rinse her hair and the applied the conditioner, finger combing it through the long silken strands like he’d seen her do when she took a shower. Mac had never had a man bathe her before. She was lost in the sensation of his long, tapered artist’s fingers brushing against her scalp and then combing all the way to the ends of her hair.

She was disappointed when Jon quit with his ministrations and helped her rinse her hair. But, soon she was moaning in pleasure again, when he began to gently scrub at her sensitive skin with a wash cloth he had poured some of her bath gel onto.

Jon tenderly stroked and massaged her until the water started to cool. Then, he pulled the plug and helped her out of the tub, wrapping her in a fluffy bath sheet. Reverently, he dried her satiny skin with the towel.

When he lifted her in his arms to carry her back to bed, Mac told him softly, "I could’ve walked, ya know?"

"Maybe," he answered, smiling. He bent to lay her on the bed.

"Are you going to feed me again before you go?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer. She dreaded going back to the cold impersonal feeding from a wine glass.

"I’m not leaving ‘til the morning," he told her, "and yes, I’m going to feed you again, but this time it’ll be the way you’re used to doing it."

Mac smiled up into his blue eyes that flashed with desire. "I was hoping you were going to say that."

Jon leaned over Mac, caging her with his arms. "I need you, Mac," he growled just before his lips met hers in a fiery kiss.

She let herself get swept away in the storm of his passion. Their tongues dueled for supremacy. Mac wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down toward her. Jon’s biceps flexed as he tried to keep his weight off her. She desperately wanted the connection of their minds. With that need, she realized she was in his mind.

Jon? she questioned, the voice in his head barely a whisper.

Yes, moglie mia, I’m here, he answered.

How?

Don’t question it, bambina, just enjoy it.

Jon realized that the Council must have lifted the magical shield, at least for the night. But, that thought was fleeting and quickly disappeared as he got lost in Mac. His lips left hers, and he kissed and nibbled a path down her throat, down her chest until his mouth found her already hardened nipple.

He drew the pebble into his mouth as he settled between her thighs. Mac groaned at the friction of the denim of his jeans against her bare flesh.

I believe your over-dressed for the occasion, she told him.

Maybe, he answered, but if I remedy that, this won’t last long. He moved his attention to her other breast, and Mac’s back arched up off the bed.

You say that like it’s a bad thing, she quipped, even as she tugged his t-shirt up to shoulders.

Jon pulled his shirt off over his head then quickly went back to her breast. He groaned aloud as her body moved against his. Did I mention that I love you? he asked.

I believe so, she answered. Please, Jon, she begged, I need you. Her hands were busy working at the button and zipper of his jeans. She moaned as his fangs scraped across the tender skin of her nipple. Please.

With one hand, Jon helped her push his jeans down over his hips. He entered her without finesse, letting passion rule his actions and set the rhythm. Her pleasure was washing over him in waves. He gritted his teeth against the sensation, trying to hold back his own orgasm until she’d reached that peak.

When Mac tensed beneath him and her hands tightened on his shoulders, Jon allowed her to pull him down so that she could reach his neck. Her fangs sank into his jugular and sent him over the edge. He continued to thrust inside her as he rode the waves of his own orgasm and hers.

Later, as they lay snuggled together, Mac whispered, "Jon, we need to talk."

"Not about my case, moglie mia," he warned her.

"No, it’s not about the case," she replied. "I need to tell you what I’ve found out since I’ve been here." She explained about her dreams, and that Maria had told her they were actually memories of her past life. Then, said softly, "Maria told me that she recognized the woman in my dreams."

"Who is she?"

"Cecilia," she admitted softly.

Jon sighed and tightened his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her hair with his nose. "I guess I should’ve known."

That wasn’t exactly the response she’d expected from him. "You’re not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" he asked, truly puzzled.

"I don’t know," she answered, sarcastically, "maybe because I tried to kill you?"

"You didn’t," he corrected her, "Cecilia did."

"But...," she began.

He interrupted her, "No buts, you’re not her anymore. Now, you’re just my Mac."

She smiled at the heartfelt feeling she heard in his voice. "What’ll happen to us after the trial?"

"I guess that depends on the verdict," he answered softly. He didn’t really want to talk about it right now, and he told her so.

"But, Jon, I need to know," she told him, her voice earnest. "If I lost you...," she left the sentence dangling.

"One way or the other we’ll be together," he assured her. "Our souls belong together. If not this life, then in the next. And, just maybe, the next one will be a nice normal one."

Mac didn’t like his defeatist attitude and decided right then that no matter what the verdict, she at least would fight for him.

Chapter Thirty-three

2008-04-07T12:30:00.002-05:00

Mac had toughed out the pain in her chest and the burning pains in her abdomen through the long night and was relieved to finally see the sun peeking through her curtains. She sat up on the side of the bed, but realized she was too weak to stand. Falling back on the bed, she groaned. She now realized the pain and weakness Jon had suffered that day he had refused to feed from or in front of her. She just hoped she could be as strong as he had been.

Mac ached to reach out and touch his mind with hers, but knew she couldn’t. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she swiped them away quickly when Richie knocked on her door.

"Hey Mac," Richie called from the other side of the door. "I’m going down for coffee. Want me to bring you anything?"

"No, thank you," she called out.

Richie pushed the door open. "Mac, you really need to have something." He noticed how pale she was, but he just assumed it was the separation symptoms. "I’m bringing you something, and you’re gonna eat it, or else."

Realizing that Kristoff hadn’t told Richie about her ultimatum, Mac nodded weakly. While Richie was gone, she managed to get dressed and stumbled to the sofa in the sitting area. She curled up in one corner and tried to look normal when he came back in the room.

Richie watched her carefully while she sipped at her coffee and nibbled at the toast. Something about her screamed that she was hiding something. He wasn’t sure what it was that tipped him off, but he knew she was keeping something from him. When he’d went downstairs, he’d been told that all the vampires in the area were attending the ceremonies for Caleb, except for Mac and Jon, of course.

By that evening, Richie was really worried about Mac. She was weak and unable to get out of her bed. The sheets were soaked with the cold sweat pouring off of her. He left the room to find Maria and get fresh linens for her bed along with any help the other woman could provide. As he walked down the hall, he debated with himself whether or not he should try to let Jon know what was going on with Mac, but deciding it was something his friend should know, he turned toward the hallway where they were keeping Jon.

When he rounded the corner into the hallway, he was surprised that there weren’t any guards outside the door. Looking back over his shoulder to make sure there was no one around, he walked over and knocked discreetly on the door. No answer came from within. Once again checking to make sure he was alone in the hall, Richie slipped in the room. There were no visible signs that his friend had ever been there, but Richie knew where to check. He walked into the bathroom and quickly turned on the hot water in both the sink and the shower. He and Jon had sent messages to each other many times down through the years this way, but usually they had been some kind of smart ass remark to tease the other.

Once the steam had filled the room and clouded the mirror, Jon’s message was revealed.

Rich, they’re moving me to somewhere else in the castle. Something about you and Mac showing up at my door. Tell her I love her.

"Fuck," Richie cursed at the empty room. He grabbed a towel and dried the mirror, erasing Jon’s message so that no one else would know he’d contacted his friends. Then he stomped from the room, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t continue his search for Maria. Instead, he went in search of Kristoff.

Richie found the vampire in his office. The guitarist didn’t bother to knock; he just walked right in the room and took a seat uninvited across the desk from Kristoff. The vampire raised his eyes from his desk to look at his visitor, but didn’t say anything.

Richie cut right to the chase. "Where’s Jon?"

Kristoff had known this confrontation was coming, but he had decided he wouldn’t share the information. He wouldn’t risk Giovanni getting into trouble with the Council again because of this man’s actions or Mac’s. "I can’t tell you that."

"Can’t or won’t?" Richie asked angrily.

"Won’t," the vampire answered. At Richie’s glare, he continued, "Giovanni could be seriously reprimanded if you or Mac show up at his door again. The guards told the Council about your last visit, and they ordered him moved. If it happens again there would be serious consequences."

"He needs to know that something’s wrong with Mac," Richie told him.

"No he doesn’t," Kristoff replied. "He would only worry about something he has no control over. Why put him through that?"

Angrily, Richie stood and leaned over the desk, bracing his hands on the hard surface. "I think she’s dying!"

"She is," Kristoff answered calmly. "She’s starving herself. She has refused to drink Giovanni’s blood unless the Council allows her to see him."

The look of disbelief that washed over the guitarist’s face was almost comical. "What?" he asked, falling back in the chair. "Why would she do something so stupid?"

"She’s desperate to see him," Kristoff answered. "I knew the Council would never allow her to see him, unless I could show them that it was impeding the trial. I haven’t went to them with her demand yet, but will show them at the start of Giovanni’s trial tomorrow when she can’t show up to give testimony."

"Will she make it til tomorrow?" Richie asked, worry evident in his tone.

"She will," Kristoff assured him. "It will be close, and she’ll be so weak that she’ll need a lot of blood, but she’ll make it."

"Will Jon be able to provide enough for her?"

"He’ll be fed enough to be able to, or at least be provided with more after she feeds, if he needs it." Kristoff paused, giving Richie a hard look. He had argued with himself for a long time over whether or not this man could be trusted with his plans to help Giovanni, but now he decided that if Giovanni trusted him then so could he. "I have a plan," he told the guitarist softly.

Richie leaned forward, unsure if he’d heard the vampire correctly. "What kind of plan?"

"To get Giovanni out of here if the trial doesn’t go his way."

"Well then," Richie said in relief, "let’s hear it."

*************************

After hearing Kristoff’s plan, Richie went back to his room feeling pretty unsure of the effectiveness of said plan. The whole thing consisted of waiting until they had Jon tied to the stake, then Kristoff and Mac would put their mental abilities to good use. Kristoff had told Richie that Jon wouldn’t act on his own behalf, but that the Council would assume it was Jon and Mac doing the damage. That would keep Kristoff and Maria out of danger. Richie’s part in the plan was to acquire the get-away vehicle and get them all out of there once Jon was free.

Richie was having a hard time believing that Jon wouldn’t act to save himself, but the fact that he’d voluntarily come here to face judgement, knowing what could happen was what had Richie doubting Jon doing anything to save himself. The tiny voice in the back of his head kept telling him that Jon’s death would mean Mac’s, and that Jon would do anything to save her.

After a brief stop in his room, Richie went to Mac’s. He was very worried about her. She was in very bad shape, unconscious, sweating bullets, and moaning in pain. She thrashed about on the bed, occasionally calling out Jon’s name. Unbidden, anger rose in Richie’s chest; she was doing this to herself. Oh, he understood her reasoning, but he knew Jon’s own anger would rise when he learned her condition. A tight smile flashed across full lips. The Council didn’t know what they were in for tomorrow. Richie had seen Jon’s temper in full blown mode. Thunder and lightening were the best way for him to describe it, and tomorrow there would be a full blown hurricane in that courtroom. He just hoped that the winds wouldn’t blow his way.

Richie sat by Mac’s bedside throughout the long night. Maria had come by to administer a sedative that had seemed to help Mac rest. Richie wondered why they didn’t just give Jon’s blood to Mac via a transfusion. Maria had explained that the blood had to filter into the blood stream by way of the digestion system. They could try to force feed her the blood, but otherwise they were helpless. Besides, Maria and Kristoff supported her efforts to see Jon and wouldn’t try to get around her refusal to drink the blood. They would only try to make her more comfortable while she rebelled against the system that kept her from her lifemate.

By the time a vampire came by to get Richie for the proceedings that afternoon, Mac was weak, limp, and lifeless. Her breathing was labored. Richie hadn’t had any luck getting her to wake up and respond to him in any way. He just hoped that the Council would see reason, because Mac was beyond seeing it for herself.

*************************

Jon arrived at the courtroom before anyone. His guards led him to the front row of seats and sat on either side of him, waiting for the arrival of the witnesses and the Council. He knew something was wrong when Richie entered the room alone. Without Mac. It wasn’t only the fact that his friend was alone; it was the look on Richie’s face that told Jon all he needed to know. There was something terribly wrong.

Instinctively, Jon stood up and took a step toward his friend, but a restraining hand on his arm brought his gaze to one of the guards. Frowning, Jon called out across the space that separated him from Richie. "What’s wrong?"

Before Richie could answer, the Council filed into the room. They all took their seats, and Jon leveled his icy blue gaze on Kristoff. "Where’s Mac?" he demanded.

"Giovanni," Kristoff began seriously, "we’ll get to that soon."

"We’ll get to that now," Jon said softly, menacingly. A muscle twitched in his jaw.
The hair on Richie’s arms and neck stood at attention, expecting the coming storm. A small, satisfactory smirk pulled the right corner of his full lips upward. This was going to get real interesting real fast.

The three heads at the table on the dias bent together, and Richie looked at Jon. "She’s dying, Jon. She’s refused to drink your blood, until they," he said, jerking his head in the Council’s direction, "allow her to see you."

Jon’s angry roar filled the room. He broke free of his guards and launched himself across the room toward the dias. In the blink of an eye, he had flown across the table and had Kristoff by his shirt front and slammed against the wall behind the table where the other two Council members sat. They both looked on with wide eyes, as Kristoff did nothing to defend himself from Jon’s attack. Jon held the other vampire pressed against the wall.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Jon growled, his voice held a slight lisp as he spoke around his fangs.

"What purpose would it have served, but, to make you worry?" Kristoff countered.

"And you think I’m not worried now?" Jon demanded. "I’m warning you now, Kris. If you and the Council," he said that last word with contempt, "don’t allow me to go to her, I will not be responsible for my actions. I’ll take out every last one of you that stands between us that I can."

"And, I’ll help him," Richie announced. He stood with his feet apart, braced for anything, his hands clenched into tight fists. He would help his friend in any way; they would fight their way out of this room, standing shoulder to shoulder. If that’s what it took.

Jon looked over his shoulder at Richie and smiled his thanks. Richie gave him a slight nod in acknowledgement. Jon finally released Kristoff and took a step back, but still glaring at his friend, he said softly, "I’ll let you discuss this with the others."

Richie watched in astonishment as Jon calmly walked to stand in front of the table, but without stepping off the dias. Jon stood on the same level as the other vampires, daring them to challenge his presence there.

Sebastian and Kristoff argued heatedly for several long moments, while Constantine looked on quietly. Richie’s gaze rested on the surfer vampire. The guitarist realized that Connie’s vote would be the deciding vote in more than just today’s discussion. Constantine was the only truly neutral party on the Council. Kristoff was firmly on Jon’s side, and for whatever reason, Sebastian seemed to be totally against him.

Constantine’s voice rose above the argument. "Would you be willing to submit to a meeting of minds after you were allowed to see her?"

Richie didn’t know what the vampire meant, but Jon did. He was asking if Jon would allow one or all of the Council members to invade his mind afterwards, to make sure he had not tried to influence Mac’s testimony while they were alone together. It was not possible for one vampire to invade another’s mind without permission. Most vampires wouldn’t allow a Council member inside their head, because once in there they would be able to not only access the memories in question, but any memory there, including any wrong doing the vampire had committed in their lifetime that had not already been admitted to the Council.

The room had suddenly fallen silent after Constantine’s question. Jon knew the risk he was taking, when into the silence he answered, "Yes." He realized that the Council member or members would then be able to access his memories of the night he turned Mac. They would be able to know what happened, and be able to judge him without any witness testimony. Once they had been in his head, anything Richie or Mac had to say wouldn’t matter.

Kristoff gasped. "Giovanni, do you realize what you are agreeing to?"

"Yeah," Jon nodded, "whatever it takes to save Mac."

Kristoff shook his head. "I will not allow this, unless it is agreed that the only memories that will be viewed are the ones of the meeting between Giovanni and his lifemate. We will not access the memories that would condemn him, and in effect cause him to testify against himself."

"I’ll join minds with Giovanni," Constantine offered. "I’m the only one," he glared at the other Council members, "who obviously hasn’t already made up their mind as to his guilt or innocence. And, I will only view the memories of the meeting in question. I don’t think it’d be anywhere near polite for all of us to invade his and his lifemate’s privacy in such a way. You two will just have to take my word for it when I tell you that he did not discuss his case with her."

"I can agree to that," Kristoff quickly answered.

After several long seconds, Sebastian nodded curtly.

Jon didn’t wait any longer; he turned and ran from the room. Richie quickly followed him, knowing his friend didn’t even know where Mac was.

Chapter Thirty-two

2008-04-05T22:41:00.002-05:00

Mac finally realized Richie was in the room when she sent a lamp flying in his direction and he ducked and yelled, "Hey!" That didn’t stop her from continuing to send items flying across the room; it just made her more careful about where she sent it. During a break in the air show, Richie ran across the room and threw his arms around Mac, holding her arms down tight against her sides.

"This isn’t going to solve anything," he told her.

"It’s making me feel a lot better," she remarked, breathing heavily.

"Is it? Really?" he asked. "Because I can tell ya, throwing some stuff around in my room didn’t make me feel any better."

"They’re going to kill him, Rich," she said tearfully, after several long seconds of silence.

"Not if I can help it," Richie said, vehemently.

"That’s the worst part," she replied, "they expect us to help them do it with our testimonies."

"Then they’re shit outta luck, huh?" He turned her loose then.

Mac walked away from him, then began to angrily pace the floor. "If they think I’m gonna take this lying down, they’re full of shit," she said, heatedly, "I’ll go Jerry Springer on their pompous asses."

"Now, that’s the Mac we all know and love," Richie told her grinning. "I’ve been trying to come up with a plan."

"Got one yet?"

"Not yet, but after seeing you demolish this room, I’m starting to come up with a few." Richie took a good long look at her. "Mac, do you realize that if they kill him, you will die?"

She stopped her pacing to turn and look at him with surprise. "Do I look like I’m worried about myself right now?"

Richie had to admit that she didn’t. He glanced at his watch. "Look, I’m gonna go down to dinner and make nice with the pompous asses. Do you wanna come down with me?"

"Nope, I’d rather starve to death."

"Do you want me to bring you anything?"

"No, not unless you can find a way to sneak Jon in here."

"I’ll work on that," he laughed.

Richie had only been gone a few minutes when there was a knock on her door. "Did you find a way?" she asked laughing, as she opened the door.

Kristoff stood in the hallway. "A way for what?" he asked her.

"Nothing," she replied. "Come in," she invited, motioning him into the room. With him following her, she walked over to one of the chairs in the room, but she didn’t sit down. She had noticed the brandy snifter full of what was obviously Jon’s blood in his hand. Reaching up with one hand, she rubbed the ache in her chest. She knew if she turned down the blood it would get worse, but she had to do it.

Kristoff didn’t ask her if she wanted Jon’s blood, nor did he offer it to her. He just calmly sat the glass on the table. When she didn’t reach for it, he pushed it closer to her.

"Is Jon outside, then?" she asked, knowing the answer to the question.

"You know he is not," Kristoff said, his accent more pronounced with his aggravation.

Mac was tempted to take it. A pain, like a hot knife, slashed through her abdomen. She glared at the glass and it went flying toward Kristoff. He held up his hand and the glass stopped in mid-air, some of the blood sloshing over the side. Then the glass reversed directions and floated softly back to land gently on the table. She leveled an icy glare on the vampire across from her. "I’m not drinking it."

"As you wish," he told her, seeming unconcerned with whether she drank it or not. But, he settled back into the chair as if to wait her out. He glanced around the room at the destruction she had done that afternoon. "I see you’ve been redecorating," he commented dryly.

"Yeah," she quipped, "it’s called the pissed off life mate look."

He raised one eyebrow sardonically. "Ah," he nodded, "Maria has used that decorating tool before."

"So, Kristoff, about this magic shield," she said, calmly sitting in the chair and crossing her legs, "I’m taking it from my ability to do the redecorating earlier that it doesn’t apply to telekinesis."

"No, that is not technically magic. That is a mental skill," he explained. "The shield mostly prevents the mental communication between vampires."

"So, if I was to...oh, I don’t know, say something like....," she paused, debating what she wanted to say, "The thing I find most offensive here is that glass, so I hope you find it permanently stuck up your ass." She waited patiently for the glass to move from the table in front of her. When it remained in its place, she sighed. "Okay, so it prevents spells too."

"Yes," Kristoff answered, smiling. "Giovanni mentioned to Vincent that you were a witch."

"You mean, he didn’t tell you?"

"Yes, he told me, but I didn’t tell the other Council members. I had hoped to keep that as what Giovanni would call my ace up my sleeve, but Vincent saw fit to tell the other members so that was included in the spell that was cast over my home."

Mac looked down at the glass. "You can take that with you when you go. I’m not drinking it until the Council allows me to see Jon."

"Mac, I’m sure the Council will not allow that," he told her sadly.

"You haven’t asked?"

"No."

"Then I advise you to do that with all due haste," she replied, sarcastically.

Kristoff stood slowly. "I’m going to join the others for dinner. Please reconsider your decision."

Silently, he left the room. Mac sat alone staring at the glass. Her chest ached, and what she was sure was the vampire version of hunger pangs ripped through her abdomen. Before she couldn’t resist the desire to drink the blood, she stood up and took the glass to the bathroom, pouring the contents down the drain. "For Jon," she said softly to herself, right before she tipped the glass over the sink.

Chapter Thirty-one

2008-03-20T16:17:00.002-05:00

Mac spent most of the night tossing and turning. The pain in her chest was almost unbearable, but she refused to be weak and ask for something for the pain. Just before dawn, she awoke from a terrible nightmare. In her dream, Jon was being burnt at the stake and there was nothing she could do to save him. The dream had seemed so real; she jumped out of bed at a dead run. Practically tearing the door off it’s hinges, she ran into the sitting room, past Richie sleeping on the sofa to the main door of her suite, all still just wearing the t-shirt and panties she’d worn to bed.

Richie came awake with a jerk, just in time to see her throw open the door and run into the hall. Dragging on a t-shirt as he went, he ran after her. When he finally caught up to her, he grabbed her from behind, pulling her into a tight bear hug. She began to fight him, screaming for him to let her go, that she had to get to Jon.

He bent to say softly in her ear, "Mac, calm down. It’s me Rich."

"Richie, help me," she pleaded. "They’re killing him! I’ve got to get to him." She jerked away from him and took off running again, disappearing as she rounded a corner into another hallway.

Richie had no choice but to follow her. At the door guarded by two different vamps, Mac came to a skidding halt and demanded to see Jon. They refused.

Richie tried to placate everyone. "I think she had a nightmare that he was dying."

The two vampires eyed Mac from the top of her head all the way down to the tips of her bare toes. Richie frowned at them and pulled Mac behind him, hiding her from their hungry eyes. She immediately began to fight to get around him.

Jon’s voice from the other side of the door halted her fight. "Mac! Calm down. I’m fine. You just had a bad dream." The people in the hallway heard a soft thud as Jon’s head struck the door from the other side. Then his muffled voice was heard again. "Rich, please, just get her outta here. I’ll see both of you at the trial in a couple of hours."

Richie tugged at Mac’s arm, until he got her to walk back to her room. Through the door, Jon asked the guards, "Is she gone?"

"Yes," one of them answered.

Weakly, Jon slid down the door until he was sitting in the floor, leaning back against the portal. "Thank God," he whispered to himself. He had barely been able to restrain himself from tearing down the door to get to her. Had she stayed just a second more, he’d have lost the battle with himself.

*************************

At 9am sharp, Mac and Richie were ushered into the Council’s chambers. They were shown to seats right in front of Jon. He was seated with two vampire guards, one on either side of him.

When Mac took her seat, Jon leaned forward to lay one hand on her shoulder. "See, I’m fine."

Mac opened her mouth to answer, but didn’t get the chance. The three members of the Council filed in to take their seats behind a large table on a raised dias at the front of the room. Mac watched as Caleb was led into the room and down to stand in front of the dias.

A vampire that was acting as a sort of bailiff announced to the room, "These precedings will be conducted in English for the benefit of the defendant. Court is now in session."

In a grave voice, Kristoff said from behind the table, "Caleb McAllen, you stand accused of kidnapping a vampire’s life mate and placing her in harm’s way. We will now hear the testimony against you."

Constantine said in a softer tone, "Ms. Mac Donaldson please stand."

Jon squeezed her shoulder reassuringly before she stood up as ordered.

"Ms. Donaldson," Constantine began, "please tell us about the night the accused took you from your hotel room."

Leaving nothing out, Mac carefully told them the story of that evening and what happened while she was alone with Caleb. When she was done, Sebastian told her that she could sit down and asked Richie to stand. Constantine then asked Richie to tell them his version of the tale. Richie complied, adding the part about his and Jon’s search for Mac and how they’d found her in El Paso. Finally, Jon was asked to tell his version of the events.

When Jon sat down, Kristoff announced to Caleb, "By your own admission you are guilty of this crime. Caleb, do you have any words in your own defense?"

Caleb had stood before the Council with his head bowed until Kristoff had spoken to him. Now, he looked up at the three powerful men before him. "My only defense is that I thought I was avenging an old wrong that Giovanni had done to me and a loved one. I was not aware of all the circumstances regarding that incident, but that is no excuse. I wish to apologize to Ms. Donaldson and to Giovanni. He only did what had to be done."

The three vampires stood, and Kristoff announced to the people assembled, "This council will now convene to discuss our decision in this case."

Once the Council had left the room, Caleb turned to face Jon and the rest. "Giovanni, I’m really sorry about all of this."

"I know you are," Jon said softly. "Go in peace, Caleb."

There was such solemness to Jon’s tone, that Mac and Richie realized there was some form of ceremony there, but they didn’t ask about it.

It only took a matter of minutes before the Council came back into the room and announced their verdict. Kristoff stood up and looked at Caleb sadly. "Caleb McAllen, this council finds you guilty. Your sentence will be carried out just after sunset tonight. Go in peace."

Caleb nodded his acceptance of his fate, then was led from the room by his guard. Kristoff stepped down from the dias and walked over to Jon.

"Giovanni, you are welcome to act as a witness to tonight’s events, but I’m sure your friends will not want to be there," Kristoff told Jon quietly.

"I have no desire to act as witness," Jon answered, "I know the Council will see that justice is served."

Kristoff nodded. "I understand."

"Kris, I do have one favor to ask," Jon said quickly, as his friend began to turn to walk away.

"Anything in my power, I will be happy to grant," Kristoff replied.

"I won’t ask that everyone leave us alone, but can I have a few minutes with my life mate?"

"I’m sure that won’t be a problem, as long as the two of you don’t discuss your case," Kristoff answered, then motioned for the guards to follow him. After they had moved a few feet away, Richie also discretely excused himself, leaving Jon and Mac alone but under the watchful eyes of the entire room. Richie was the only one that politely turned his back to the couple.

Roughly, Jon pulled Mac into his arms and held her tightly. "I need you," he whispered against her hair.

Her hands rested briefly on his chest, but then smoothed over the fabric of his dress shirt, past his collar stroking his neck right before her fingers slid into his hair. "Kiss me," she pleaded, her eyes wet with unshed tears.

"You don’t have to ask," he told her, "in fact, there’s nothing that could stop me."

When his lips met hers it was without tenderness. It was no gentle kiss. It was a fiery meeting full of hunger and passion. His tongue swooped into her mouth to taste and tease, but when it retreated back home, her’s chased behind it. As their tongues dueled for supremacy, her’s slid past his lengthening fangs. With his arms around her waist, his hands slipped down to cup her ass, pulling her lower body tighter against his. He groaned as he tasted the sweet, tanginess of her blood, and he realized his fangs had pricked her tongue. He sucked hard on her tongue savoring the taste of her blood. Forgetting they weren’t alone, Mac moaned softly against his lips.

With super-human effort, Jon managed to get his senses under control. He nipped gently at Mac’s full bottom lip, then kissed the tip of her nose. "I love you, moglie mia," he told her softly, "don’t forget that."

"I’ve already told you that I won’t," she assured him, breathlessly.

There was one more thing that Jon wanted to tell her, but he was concerned that if he told her not to do it that she would do it anyway. He had to try. "Does your room overlook the courtyard?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Then please, Mac, I beg you to stay away from the windows today, but more importantly this evening after sunset."

"Why, Jon?"

"Because that’s where they’ll carry out Caleb’s sentence."

"What sentence, Jon?" Mac asked, fully aware that although the Council had handed down a verdict, they hadn’t said what the sentence would be.

Jon still couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Instead he just pleaded softly, "Please, Mac. Just stay away from the windows."

A polite cough came from Jon’s right, and he looked over to see Kristoff standing next to them. He’d been so involved in Mac, he hadn’t even heard his friend’s approach.

"Giovanni, I must separate the two of you now," Kristoff said regretfully.

"I understand," Jon replied.

"The Council will convene again the day after tomorrow to begin your own trial."

Jon bent his head to brush Mac’s lips with his, before he released her and stepped back. "Thank you, Kris," he told his friend, before he turned to leave the room between his two guards. Jon had fully expected his trial to begin when Kristoff had told him. They would carry out Caleb’s sentence tonight, and then tomorrow would be Caleb’s ceremony of passage. It would be a ritual to honor Caleb’s bravery in coming to the Council on his own for judgement.

*************************

That afternoon, back in her room, Mac paced the floor, back and forth past Richie, who was slouched in a chair with his booted feet propped on a low table in front of him.

Mac stopped her pacing to spin and face Richie. "Did you notice that they didn’t hand down a sentence, only a verdict?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I thought that odd, but then everything about this whole thing has been really strange."

Richie watched as Mac absently rubbed her chest. The pain must be back.

"Jon asked me to stay away from the windows today and tonight," she told him.

"Really? Why?"

"He said that they would carry out Caleb’s sentence in the courtyard."

Richie stood quickly and strode toward the nearest window. "Well, he didn’t ask me to do shit." Moving the curtain aside, Richie looked down into the courtyard and what he saw brought a curse to his lips. "Fuck," he swore softly.

"What is it?" Mac asked, suddenly concerned.

"Uh, nothing important," Richie told her, "just please do as Jon said." He headed toward the door. "I’ll be back in a few minutes."

Richie marched to his own room, slamming the door behind him. He picked up a vase and threw it violently against the wall. He now knew what Jon had been hiding for days. Richie was furious with his friend for keeping this from him and for leaving him to have to cope with Mac when she finally realized the truth. He strode across the room and once again looked out a window, down at the courtyard. There was only one reason that the Council wouldn’t have announced a sentence, and Richie knew why. Furiously, he watched as workers stacked wood for a bonfire in a circle around a tall wooden pole in the very center of the courtyard. Richie released the curtain, letting it fall gently back into place, and immediately picked up a lamp that was soon in shards against the nearest wall.

"Damn it, Jon," he cursed violently. He tried to calm himself. Richie knew he had to calm down and think rationally, because they needed a plan.

*************************

Mac had watched Richie storm out of her room. She hadn’t missed the clenched fists and the muscle twitching in his jaw as he fought to keep from losing control in front of her. She was unsure of her new vampire powers, but she was very sure of her gut instincts. Richie was pissed. Wild horses couldn’t have kept her from going over to look out that window.

At first, she wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at, but once it clicked she stood there frozen in fear for several seconds. Finally, her legs got the message from her brain to start walking. She hurried from the room and went in search of the one person who could give her the answers she sought.

After asking several members of the household staff, she eventually found Kristoff in his office. She didn’t knock on the door; she just burst into the room to find him sitting behind a massive desk. His chair was turned to the side, and he was just staring at the wall.

When she stormed across the room toward him, he turned his chair so that he was facing the desk and an angry Mac. "Did you need something, Mac?"

"Yeah," she answered sarcastically, "Jon."

Kristoff smiled sadly. "Let me rephrase the question. Do you need something that I can get for you?"

Placing her hands palm down on the desk, Mac leaned forward. "Yeah," she repeated, "Jon."

Kristoff leaned back in his chair. Mac wasn’t sure if it was to seem more relaxed, or if it was in an effort to get further away from her angry snarl, but either way, she refused to back down. "Mac, as much as I would like to let you see Giovanni, I can’t. However, I would be happy to help you with anything else."

"Okay, we’ll get back to the Jon issue. Give me some answers."

"Answers? To which questions?"

"All right, let’s start with Caleb. It has come to my attention that he will be burned at the stake tonight. If that’s his sentence for kidnapping me, what is Jon facing for turning me?"

Kristoff seemed truly puzzled. "There is only one sentence the Council carries out, and that is death."

Mac’s heart fell to her stomach, and her arms were barely able to hold her weight as she continued to lean on the desk. Her face lost all color, and she had to take several deep breaths. Kristoff stood as if to come to her aid, but she held up one hand to stop him.

"Perhaps, you should sit down," he suggested.

"I don’t wanna sit down," she hissed angrily, "I want to see Jon. Alone." She stressed each word of that sentence, but not nearly as strongly as she emphasized the last word.

"I’ve already told you that is not possible."

"Is it the Council’s intention to kill me then?"

Kristoff frowned at her question. "Not this minute, no."

"Then you better make it possible to see him. Because, until you let me see him, I’ve drank my last drop of his blood." Mac spun on her heel and strode toward the door.

"Mac," Kristoff called after her, "please be reasonable. You’ll only be harming yourself, and this will certainly not do any good for Giovanni."

"He’s facing a death sentence.....how much worse can it get?" she tossed over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

Kristoff watched her go with mixed emotions. He had no intention of letting his friend be put to death. Giovanni had told him not to get involved to the point of danger to him or Maria, but he owed his friend. He was even now working on a plan that he would put into action if he was unable to convince one of the other two Council members to vote with him. Kristoff didn’t want to get Mac’s hopes up though, so he wouldn’t mention his plan to her. He smiled over her spirit though. Giovanni had chosen well.

*************************

In his room, Richie was making and discarding plans when he heard Mac’s door slam next door. But, it was the sound of something heavy smashing against the wall that sent him over to her room at a dead run. Throwing open the door, Richie stood frozen to the spot at the scene in the room.

Mac stood in the center of the room with tears rolling down her face, but it was the look of total fury on her face that immediately caught his attention. That and the furniture flying around the room at the slightest wave of her arm.

She was in a fine fit of temper. Richie watched as Mac’s arm slashed through the air like a conductor directing his symphony and a vase full of flowers flew across the room to splinter into a million pieces against the wall. Now, this was a conniption! And, it could mean only one thing.

She knew.

Chapter Thirty

2008-01-16T14:06:00.000-06:00

Dinner was a tense affair. Mac couldn’t keep herself from blaming Kristoff and Maria for their part in Jon’s confinement. Richie sat next to her at the table keeping a careful eye on her. He was more concerned about her than he was showing the others gathered around the table. He wasn’t just concerned about her health and the pain that would soon hit her; he was also concerned about her stubborn pride and that she would try to sneak in to see Jon. Richie had joked and teased Jon over the years about the ‘infamous’ Council, but he was very aware of the power they wielded.

Kristoff had introduced the two of them to the other two members of the Council before they had sat down at the table. Richie had watched as Mac nodded her head to acknowledge the introduction, but had otherwise been very cold to them. Not that he blamed her, but he at least was polite and showed them the deference that their position required. They would, after all, be deciding the fate of his best friend.

Richie noticed that Mac didn’t eat much, only pushing her food around on the plate. He watched her absently rub her chest. Knowing what that meant, he cut his eyes to Maria. The woman nodded that she had noticed.

A few moments later, Maria stood and asked Mac if she would join her in the library. Reluctantly, Mac agreed, and Richie watched silently as the two women left the room. Once the women were out of hearing range, Richie turned questioning eyes to Kristoff.

"She will be fine," the vampire tried to assure Richie. "Drinking Giovanni’s blood will lessen the pain and allow her to go longer without a sedative."

"If she’ll drink it from a bag," Richie mumbled, forgetting for the moment he was sitting with three vampires who could hear his every breath.

The black haired, thin vampire with the British accent that had been introduced to Richie as just Sebastian turned piercing blue eyes on the guitarist. "Are you saying that she’s having trouble adapting to her new life?"

"No, not at all," Richie answered, silently cursing his own forgetfulness. "But, she’s only fed from Jon directly, never from a bag." He emphasized the last word to draw attention to the fact that even he found the thought of it disgusting.

The Council member that Richie had silently dubbed the ‘surfer dude’ when the introductions were made laughed then, drawing all the men’s eyes. His name was Constantine, but had quickly told Richie and Mac to call him Connie. The vampire had a deep tan and hair obviously bleached blonde by the sun and sounded like he’d just walked in from the nearest beach. "Oh come on, dudes, even you two old farts have to admit that we all prefer to eat ‘off the hoof’." That’s when Richie decided he liked ‘surfer dude’. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to end up hating him before this was all over.

Richie turned to Connie then. "I was meaning to ask you how you could possibly spend so much time in the sun to have that great a tan."

"Sunglasses, dude, sunglasses," Connie admitted, giving Richie a boyish grin, "I ask all the gods to bless the inventor of shades everyday. Well, him and the inventor of the bikini."

The three vampires laughed, and Richie couldn’t help but join in. Lord knew, he thanked the inventor of the bikini every day that he was at a beach or by a pool too.

*************************

In the library, Maria invited Mac to take a seat. Maria noticed how uncomfortable Mac seemed. "Mac, I know that we don’t know each other very well, but I’m hoping we can become friends," the woman’s ever-so-slight French accent was slightly heavier than normal.

Mac looked at the woman for a long moment before she finally answered her. "Maria, no offense, but I can’t separate yours and your husband’s involvement from what’s going on here long enough to even try to act friendly."

The other woman smiled at Mac. "You’re very blunt, I like that." Mac’s only answer to that statement was a little half-smile that was most definitely of a sarcastic nature. "And because you are so blunt, I will be as well. I know that you have powers that go beyond the ones you gained when Giovanni turned you into a vampire. You are a witch, yes?"

Mac was surprised. "How’d you know that?"

"I have powers of my own. Although, perhaps not as strong as yours, but I can see things about people just by touching them."

"Past, present or future?" Mac asked, genuinely interested in the other woman’s abilities.

"Mostly past, occasionally the present. The future, hardly ever," Maria answered. "Mostly, I just use it as a tool to judge a person’s character."

"Do you have any other powers?"

"I’m able to tell a person about their past lives. I’m able to see them as well when I touch someone. I know that you’ve lived several times before, just from the hug we shared earlier. Are you already aware of this?"

Mac was more than a little skeptical. "No, I wasn’t."

"And yet you dream of your previous lives all the time," Maria commented, softly.

Thinking about her ‘dreams of the past’, Mac shrugged. "Is that what those are?"

"Mac, you are a very powerful witch," Maria told her, "and yet you’ve turned your back on your skills. You should embrace your heritage."

"Now you sound like my mother," Mac told her, grinning.

"Maybe your mother is right," Maria responded. "Most people don’t dream of their past lives, and yet you do. But all of your past lives don’t interest me, only one of them."

"Is that so?" Mac asked, rapidly losing interest in this conversation.

"Yes, the young Italian woman that you’ve dreamed of so much recently," Maria told her.

"Why her?"

"Because of the link I share with Kristoff, I know who this woman is. You see, he met her many years ago. And, I’ll be blunt, who she was concerns me very much."

"Why would it concern you who I was in a past life?"

"Because, I care about Giovanni," was her only answer.

Mac didn’t like the way Maria said that. It almost sounded like a threat. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her denim clad legs. "Color me stupid, but what has any of this got to do with Jon?"

"That woman was very important to Giovanni at one time," Maria answered, giving Mac a hard look. Maria paused dramatically, wanting to judge Mac’s response to what she said next. "Her name was Cecilia."

Mac’s gasp echoed through the otherwise silent room. Jon had told her all about Cecilia. Would the knowledge that she was the love that once betrayed him effect the way he felt about her now?

"Are you sure?"

Maria could hear the hope in Mac’s voice that there could be a chance that she was wrong. "I’m sure," Maria told her.

"This isn’t happening," Mac denied, "all of this is just a terrible nightmare, and soon, I’ll wake up in Jon’s arms."

"No, Mac," Maria shook her head at the younger woman, "this is all happening, and you’re going to have to be strong. I want you to know what you’re up against. I think the men in our lives would prefer that you not know; they think they’re protecting you."

"What exactly are you talking about?"

"The physical separation of life-mates will cause pain. Not just of the emotional kind. It can also cause delusions and hallucinations," Maria started to explain. "The extreme emotional stress you’ve felt today since you were separated from Giovanni is just the beginning. The loneliness and hollow feeling will get worse and so will that ache you’re feeling in your chest."

"And the anxiety?" Mac asked.

"You mean the worry that he’s not well, that he’s dying and you’ll be left alone?"

"Yeah."

Maria nodded. "That will get worse. I have something that will make it better, but only for a short time. Eventually, a sedative will be required. I’m only telling you this because I want us to be friends, and I don’t think that it’s a good idea to try and keep it from you. The men think it’s wise to not increase your worries by telling you before the symptoms arise. So that, you’re not worried about what will happen until it’s happening. But, I didn’t want you to think you were going crazy. These symptoms are real, not your imagination."

"And what is this temporary fix?"

Maria got up and gracefully walked to a bar in the corner. When she came back she carried a large brandy snifter filled with a thick red liquid.

"Is that what I think it is?" Mac asked.

"It is blood drawn from Giovanni earlier," Maria told her. "I’ve kept it warm for you, and I thought drinking it from the glass would be far better than the bag it was in at first. Also, I got it out of the bag as quickly as I could, to avoid the unpleasant taste of the plastic."

Mac took the glass from Maria, but frowned in distaste. The thought of drinking the blood was still unappealing to her. She held the glass up to her nose and sniffed it experimentally. She smelled not only the tangy smell of blood, but also a faint whiff of alcohol wafted to her nostrils. "What else is in here?" she asked the other woman.

"I mixed in a little red wine," Maria smiled. "You will still get what you need from Giovanni’s blood and the wine will make it more palpable to you. I know it was very hard for me to drink Kristoff’s blood without feeding straight from him. I’m only offering what I wish someone had offered me."

"Thanks," Mac told her, smiling weakly. "Cheers, I guess," she said softly, lifting the glass to her lips. At first, she just took a little sip, but suddenly she was overcome by the taste and the smell, reminded of the last time she had tasted it. Reminded how her fangs had sank into Jon’s neck as she rode the waves of an orgasm, and before she knew it, she had gulped down the entire glass, somehow feeling close to him even without him being in the room.

"How is Jon?" she suddenly asked, breaking the silence in the room.

"Suffering from the separation just like you."

"Is there any way they’ll allow me to see him?" Mac asked, a desperate quality to her voice.

"Only at Caleb’s trial, which begins tomorrow, and then at Giovanni’s own trial."

Maria watched the range of emotions that flashed across Mac’s face, and knew what the younger woman was thinking. "Do not try to get in to see him," she warned. "It will only cause problems for him at his trial."

"Why would my actions affect his verdict?"

"You really don’t understand the rules at all, do you?" Maria questioned, leaning forward slightly in her chair.

"What rules?"

"The reason it is considered such a heinous crime for a vampire to turn a human without their permission is because then they are not bound by the rules of the Council. If a human agrees to be turned then they are agreeing to follow the laws. In your case, you were not given the opportunity to give consent or accept this way of life, therefore, Giovanni is responsible for your actions because he is your sire. They will hold him accountable for every rule you break."

The other woman’s words immediately quashed any plans that Mac had been making. She certainly didn’t want to cause Jon any more problems.

Mac stood on shaky legs. "I think I need to lay down."

"If you need the sedative later, just let me know," Maria replied.

"I will," Mac told her, nodding. "Will you please tell Richie that I went up to my room?"

"Of course," Maria answered, smiling.

"Good night," Mac said softly, as she headed for the door.

*************************

Somehow, Mac made a wrong turn on the way to her room and found herself in a long hallway that looked just like the one her room was on. The only difference were the two huge vampires guarding one door. She knew Jon was on the other side of that door, and although common sense told her to just turn around, her feet led her to the two vamps.

"You shouldn’t be here," one of them said in a hard tone.

"I’m lost," she told them softly. "I know that sounds like a lame excuse, but really I’m lost. I guess I turned left when I should’ve turned right or something. How do I get back to my room?"

Inside the room, Jon had been sitting in a chair trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his chest when Mac’s scent drifted to him from the hallway. He knew the penalty if she tried to get into see him, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to see her. Practically flying across the room, he was soon leaning against the door, listening to her conversation with the guards. He hoped she was telling the truth, that she was really lost and not just trying to get in to see him.

One of the guards began to give her directions back to her room. When he was done with his recitation, she asked in a pleading tone with tears in her eyes, "Please, couldn’t I just see him for a moment?"

Through the door, she heard Jon’s voice, "Mac, please, just go back to your room." He sounded angry to her, or maybe just like it was hard to tell her to go away. What she didn’t know was that his forehead was against the door, with one hand pressed against the hard wood, straining to keep from tearing the barrier between them down just to get to her.

The guard who had given her directions gave her a sympathetic look. "I’ve been separated from my life mate. I know what both of you are going through." He looked at his companion, "If we didn’t let them out of our sight, what harm could it cause?"

The second guard shrugged. "I don’t see a problem with that, Duncan. But, the Council...". He left the sentence dangling in the air.

Duncan answered, "I will take sole responsibility."

Inside the room, Jon felt hope building inside him quickly replacing the pain in his chest. He took a step back from the door, hoping it would soon swing inward. After what seemed like an eternity, the door swung inward, but he didn’t even have the opportunity to see her before she was throwing herself into his arms. He savored the feel of her against him, while giving the guards a grateful look over the top of her head. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes as his lungs were filled with her scent.

"I missed you," she was crying against his chest.

"I missed you, too, moglie mia," he said into her hair. "Did you feed?"

She was touched that even with the huge trouble he was in, his first concern was still of her. "Yeah, Maria put it in a glass with some red wine. It really wasn’t so bad."

With one finger, he lifted her chin so that he could look down into her lovely face. Seeing her tears, he gently wiped them away with his thumb. "I’m proud of you," he told her softly.

"For what?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

"You’re being so strong," he answered.

"I’m not being strong," she told him. "I’m falling apart. You’ve turned me into a weak, needy, clingy woman who can’t even be away from you for a few hours."

"Mac, I promise, this will all be over soon," he told her softly. "And, I’ll see you at the trial in the morning."

Duncan cleared his throat. "You really have to go now, miss."

She gripped Jon tighter. He knew she was about to argue. "Moglie mia, go. We wouldn’t want Duncan to get into trouble because of us. I love you, Mac."

Tearfully, she said, "I’ll see you tomorrow. I miss you already."

Gently, he pushed her away from him and closed the door himself. He heard Duncan giving the directions again, then her scent drifted away.

*************************

When Mac got back to her room, she found Richie waiting for her. He’d been sitting on the sofa, but stood up as she entered the room.

"Where’ve you been?" he asked, "I thought you would’ve beat me here."

"I made a wrong turn and ended up in the hallway where they’re keeping Jon," she answered. He gave her a doubtful look. "No really, I got lost. But, the guards were really nice, and they let me see him for a few seconds."

Richie’s face lit up. "Really? How is he?"

"He seems to be handling all of this a lot better than we are," she replied.

"It’s all an act," he told her, running his hands through his hair. "He’s always acted tough. Jon believes that’s what’s expected of him. Besides, he would want to be strong for you."

"He promised me that this would all be over soon," she told Richie. "And, I’ve got to believe that. Otherwise, I’ll go stark raving mad."

She started to tear up, and Richie tried to reassure her to forestall the crying he knew was coming. "Of course, surely they can’t drag this out much longer."

"I’m really tired, Rich, I think I’m gonna go to bed."

"Yeah, you do that," he answered, relieved that she wasn’t dissolving into tears. He watched her disappear through the door that led to the bedroom of the suite. Richie was really hoping that this was all over soon!

Chapter Twenty-nine

2008-01-12T14:49:00.000-06:00

Following the man who had opened the door and welcomed them in, Jon guided Mac down a hallway with a protective hand at the small of her back. Richie followed close behind the couple. Vincent seemed to have just disappeared, his task completed. Mac realized that as soon as they had walked in the door that Jon’s glamour dissolved, leaving him looking young, but not vulnerable. She took courage from his strength.

The tall dark-haired man led them to a large old-fashioned library where a small blonde woman waited. She hurried over to hug Jon.

"Oh Giovanni, it’s so good to see you again," the woman gushed.

Returning her hug, Jon answered, "It’s good to see you again too, Maria."

Mac watched as the dark-haired man pulled Jon into a man hug, saying in heavily accented English, "You have been missed, Giovanni. I wish this visit was under different circumstances."

Stepping away from the other man, Jon nodded in agreement. "Me too, Kris." Then he pulled Mac into his side with one strong arm. "Both of you remember my friend Richie." They both nodded, and Richie and Kris shook hands. The guitarist also pulled Maria in for a brief hug. "And this is my life mate, Mac."

Mac was pulled away from Jon and enveloped in a big bear hug from Kristoff. "I’m so glad to meet you, and I’m also happy he finally found you."

"Turn the poor girl loose," Maria ordered her husband. Then once he had released Mac, Maria stepped up to hug her too. "It’s nice to meet you, Mac."

"Thank you," Mac said softly.

"She’s beautiful, Giovanni," Maria said.

"Da, she is more than you deserve, old friend," Kristoff laughed, slapping Jon on the shoulder.

Mac tried to reach out to Jon then, just to see if she could. But, it was like a brick wall stood between them. She tried harder, concentrating. Jon saw her frown and asked if something was wrong.

"This is not exactly the welcome I had expected," was all she said.

Kristoff looked at Mac and smiled. "This may be where the Council has convened, but it is above all my home, and Giovanni is always welcome in my home."

"I’m well aware of my welcome," Jon told the other vampire. "But, I wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble for giving me special treatment. Call the guards, Kris. Let’s get this over with."

"The guards are outside the door, Giovanni," Kristoff explained. "If you are ready, I will call them."

"No," Mac pleaded, not sure she was ready to be pulled away from Jon.

Jon pulled her tightly against him, and nodded to Kristoff over her head. "It will be all right," he whispered into her hair. "I love you, Mac. We have to do this, but then one way or the other, everything will be okay." With a finger under her chin, he lifted her face to his and kissed her gently. "This will all be over soon, I promise." He stepped away from her, and Mac noticed the two men who had entered the room. Jon moved to stand between them.

Jon watched Mac’s eyes tear up, and she angrily scrubbed a hand at each cheek. He smiled when Richie stepped over and pulled her into his arms. He heard his friend whisper to Mac that it would be okay, that he was with her. Jon wasn’t surprised when Richie looked up at him with sadness in his eyes.

"I’ve got your back, Kidd," Richie said softly.

"I know you do. I didn’t expect anything less." he replied, then followed the two newcomers out of the room.

Mac didn’t mind if Richie saw her tears, but she refused to cry in front of Kristoff and Maria. "Could you show us to our rooms?" she asked them.

Seeing her distress, Maria stepped forward. "Of course, Mac, your bags are already in your rooms. Just follow me."

Maria had been separated from Kristoff right after she had been turned. She understood what Mac would be facing. A separation between life mates was rough. Immediate sadness at first, then after several hours there would be a physical pain that would start as an ache in the other woman’s chest, but would soon become almost unbearable. Maria was sure that Mac would have to be sedated just to keep her comfortable. She knew from her own experience that Kristoff had also experienced the pain, and she worried not only for Mac, but also for Jon.

They arrived at Richie’s room first, but he only looked inside then followed Maria to the room next door that would be Mac’s.

"Thank you, Maria," he told the woman, taking control of the situation. "I’ll take care of her from here."

Maria realized she was being dismissed, but she couldn’t go without making sure that Richie knew what would be coming. She turned to Mac. "Would you excuse us for just a moment?"

Mac looked at Richie questioningly. She had been so glad that he had seemed to take over the situation, since she couldn’t seem to think straight after Jon had been led from the library.
"It’s okay, Mac," he said gently, "I’ll just be a minute."

"Okay," she agreed weakly, before going into her room.

Maria explained the situation to Richie quickly. Leaving nothing out, she told him what would happen in the next several hours. She assured Richie that she would come with a sedative later, if he wanted. Suddenly, Richie felt out of his league. How was he supposed to take care of her, if he didn’t know what to do for her?

Maria could see the confusion on his face. "No fears, Richie," she soothed, "Giovanni is our friend as well; Kristoff and I will help take care of her. She will not suffer over much, if we can help it."

"Thank you," Richie responded. "But, I should warn you. Mac is a very strong willed woman. Very independent. She may not be willing to accept help from people she considers strangers. To be honest, I’m surprised she has clung to me like she has."

"She will continue to cling to you, Richie. Mac will see you as a sort of surrogate for Giovanni. She will need your strength and your patience."

"She already has it," he answered. "She became a member of my family when Jon told me what she was to him."

"I understand," the woman said.

"I should go to her," Richie told her. "I’ll let you know if we need anything."

"As you wish," Maria told him, and turned to go.

Richie walked through the door and suddenly found his arms full of a crying woman. Gently, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to a sofa. He sat down with her still in his arms and began to rock her gently. Smoothing her hair with one strong, long-fingered hand, he murmured soothing words to her. All he knew to do was try to comfort her as best he could.

*************************

Jon quietly surveyed the room that had been assigned to him. A strange feeling of emptiness had almost overwhelmed him only moments after he’d left Mac in the library. It was like a piece of him was missing. Somehow, he knew Mac was hurting; it felt like how he had heard amputees explain the sensation of still being able to feel an ache in their missing limb. He knew his own pain would start soon; he only hoped that it would fill the gaping hole in his soul where Mac’s lightness had resided. He tried to tell himself she was in the castle with him; that she was fine, but not being able to reach out to touch her mind was almost unbearable. It almost made it worse knowing she was so close yet so far away.

His room was actually a suite, made up of a bedroom and sitting room. In the bedroom, he found his luggage and sent out a silent thank you to Kristoff. His guitar case was among his luggage; at least he’d have one friend in his solitary confinement.

The knock on his door was as unexpected as the scent of his guest, that floated to his sensitive nose under the door.

"Come on in, Kris. It is your home after all," he called out.

Kristoff opened the door and walked in smiling. He turned to say something to the guards and closed the door. Jon motioned to one of the armchairs arranged around a low coffee table. The two vampires took a seat.

Jon was the first to break the silence. "You shouldn’t have come, Kris. This will look bad for you."

"I had a discussion with the other members of the Council. They understand that we are friends and have agreed to allow me to visit you. I am to be your liaison from them and to keep you apprised of your lifemate’s condition," Kristoff explained.

"So this is an official visit then," Jon said, nodding.

"As far as they are concerned," Kristoff told him.

"How is Mac?"

"As well as can be expected," the Russian answered.

"Don’t hand me that shit, Kris," Jon replied, "give it to me straight."

"Maria told me that she is suffering slightly from the separation. The loneliness hit her hard at first, but your friend is keeping her company. The physical pain hasn’t started yet."

Abruptly, Jon stood up and ran a hand through his hair in frustration before starting to pace the room. He wanted this to all be over quickly. Not for his sake but for Mac’s.

"When does Caleb’s trial start?" Jon turned to Kristoff to ask.

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"Will I be allowed in the courtroom at the same time as Mac and Richie?" Jon knew that under normal circumstances all the witnesses against Caleb would be allowed in the Council chambers at the same time, but since those same witnesses were to testify against him at a later time, he wasn’t sure how it would be handled.

"Yes," Kristoff answered, "but conversation between you will be kept to a minimum. As you know, the Council will not allow any whispered comments. Everything must be said loud enough for everyone present to clearly hear."

"I understand," Jon nodded. He was silent for several seconds, before exploding. "I don’t know if I can take this, Kris. I need to know she’s okay."

"She will be fine, Giovanni," Kristoff told him patiently. "I, myself, will administer a sedative if it is needed. She will not suffer. I promise you this, my friend."

"You don’t know Mac," Jon warned, "she won’t ask for help. She’s strong and stubborn. She has a hard time asking for help from people she knows, and she considers you and Maria strangers."

"Your friend has already warned Maria of this problem," the other vampire replied. "We won’t wait for a request of help. We will just step in when we are needed."

"Will you be taking blood for her now, or will you come back later for that?" Jon asked.

"If you are ready, we can do that now," Kristoff answered.

At Jon’s nod, Kristoff rose and walked to the door. When he came back into the room, he carried with him medical equipment to draw blood from Jon.

"Have a seat, Giovanni," Kristoff said softly, "this will only take a few minutes."

Jon sat back down in the chair he had vacated earlier and watched as Kristoff inserted the needle in a vein in his arm. Once the blood was flowing freely through the tube and into the bag, he said very softly, "Kris, thank you for seeing that my guitar stayed with my luggage."

"You don’t have to thank me, my friend. I wasn’t ordered to take it from you, therefore it stayed. I knew what it being in here would mean to you."

Jon nodded. "You’ll let me know if there’s any problems with Mac feeding, right?"

"Of course," Kristoff answered, seeming slightly offended. "I would not let you worry needlessly. But, I assure you she will be fine. Someone will come by later to feed you."

"Kris, I didn’t mean to offend you," Jon told him quickly. "Look this is a little personal, but until now, Mac has only fed during sex. In the throes of her orgasm, is the only time she has been able to bite me and feed. I’m only concerned that she won’t feed from the bag."

"Ah," Kristoff nodded in understanding, "she has the same aversion to feeding that Maria had at first. Only the uncontrollable and instinctive urge to bite me kept my lifemate alive and well fed at first, also."

Jon laughed. "Humans. I won’t ever understand the big deal about drinking blood."

The other vampire realized, Jon was trying to lighten the mood and joined in his laughter. When the bag was full, Kristoff removed the needle from Jon’s arm and gathered the medical equipment.

"Maria will be visiting Mac and Richie shortly. We hope they will join us in the dining room for a light dinner. I will closely inspect her for any signs of pain then. I will tell you everything I know, Giovanni."

"Thanks, Kris."

Jon watched his friend leave the room. This was a hell of a lot harder than he had thought it would be. He went to his bedroom and bent to open the case. Pulling his old friend out, he sat down on the bed, with his guitar on his lap. He retrieved his notebook and pen from the case also, and began to strum idly. Every so often, he scribbled in his notebook. He didn’t know if anything he was working on would ever be heard by another soul, but at least it would take his mind off worrying about Mac.

Chapter Twenty-eight

2007-12-05T14:04:00.000-06:00

They lay together, silent for several long moments. Jon not even knowing where to start. He hadn’t even told her about the Council yet. Slowly stroking her hair he began to explain the governing body of all vampires. How each member was elected for an indefinite term. Their term lasted until death or they chose to resign. They upheld the laws that had been passed down for thousands of years, and made new ones as they deemed fit, that all vampires must follow or be called before them for judgement. He told her about the time he had stood before the Council for staking Toby, and how he’d been found innocent of any wrong doing.

Then he told her about Caleb’s admission to the Council and their summons.

"What will happen when we get there?" she asked. He heard the fear in her voice.

"First, we have to get through tomorrow," he told her. "The Council’s emissary will surely show up first thing in the morning. You must pretend surprise at his appearance, Mac. Kristoff’s warning must not be discovered. He would face punishment too."

"I understand," she nodded against his chest.

"The emissary will not let me out of his sight once he tells me of the demand from the Council. He will accompany us to Kristoff’s home where the Council members have all convened. They will separate us then, Mac. You and Richie are being called as witnesses against me, and they won’t want me to influence your testimonies."

Suddenly, she realized where the desperation in his love making had come from. "Jon, how will I feed?"

"They will take blood from me, sort of like for a transfusion. They will bag it and bring it to you."

"So, I will be a prisoner?" she asked.

"No, most likely you and Rich will have freedom of the grounds and Kristoff’s home, except for the room where they will be keeping me."

"I won’t be allowed to see you once we get there?"

"Only at the trials. Caleb’s and then mine. Caleb will stand trial first, since they need my testimony to judge him."

"I’m scared, Jon," she admitted.

"Don’t be, bambina," he tried to reassure her. "This will all be over soon."

She raised her head from his chest and kissed him softly, as he slipped into her head. I love you, Mac, always. No matter what happens, remember that.

I’ll hold that thought close in the nights ahead, she told him.

Mac wasn’t sure how she would get through the next few days, but she would try to be strong for him. He would not see her fear or her tears. She would proudly stand before the Council and face down every one of them. She would even throw out a rhyme or two if necessary. She fell asleep nestled tightly in his arms, knowing this might be the last time for a long time.

The Council’s emissary arrived the next morning, just as Jon had predicted. The trio pretended surprise at the summons, but Jon wasn’t sure the dark brooding vampire bought it. Jon wasn’t surprised that the Council had sent Vincent after him. They had never liked each other. Jon knew without a doubt there would be no leniency coming from the other vamp. Vincent would stick to the rules with a vengeance because of his dislike for Jon.

They grabbed their bags, and Vincent escorted them to the airport. Vincent did concede that they could travel in Jon’s jet rather than travel commercial, but Jon knew that wasn’t out of kindness.

On the long flight to Russia, Jon caught Vincent’s eyes on Mac several times. Finally, in anger he told the other vamp, "She’s my life mate, Vinny, back off!"

"I’m very aware of who she is, Giovanni, but that doesn’t stop me from admiring a beautiful woman," the other vamp replied with bitterness in his tone.

"How ‘bout if I ask you to quit looking at me like your next meal?" Mac asked, uncomfortable under the vamp’s scrutiny.

"I’m only looking, I didn’t mean to offend you," Vincent told her.

"Well you did," she replied, "now stop it or I’m gonna bust a rhyme on your ass."

Vincent looked at Jon then, the question apparent on his face.

"She’s a witch," Jon answered the unspoken question.

"I see," was the vampire’s answer. He went silent after that and didn’t let his gaze rest on Mac again for quite some time.

They had a brief layover in Frankfurt, Germany to refuel the jet, but then were soon back in the air. Mac fell asleep soon after that, and Jon scooped her up in his arms and moved her over to the sofa where she would be more comfortable. He sat at one end with Mac using his lap as a pillow. Silently, he sat there stroking her hair and watching the other vampire. Every once in a while, he would look over at Richie. He had never seen his friend this quiet. Usually, Richie was the jokester that kept everyone laughing on a flight, but he guessed the guitarist’s spirits had sank as low as his own.

The jet landed in Moscow, and soon the four of them were in a car on their way to Kristoff’s home. Jon had explained to Richie and Mac that his old friend lived about 2 hours outside of the city in a several hundred year old castle. Mac had linked with his mind then to ask if they would keep him locked in the dungeon. He had assured her that his room would be as nice as hers, except for the two vampires that would stand guard outside the door.

Moglie mia, he told her as he turned his head to gaze out the window, try not to let Vincent see that we are talking like this.

Moving her gaze from Jon to her hands clasped together in her lap, she asked him, Why?

I would prefer that he not make us stop, Jon explained, and he will try if he knows.

I understand, she told him.

He didn’t know how to tell her what he knew she needed to know before they reached Kristoff’s home. Mac, the Council is made up of very powerful vampires. The first thing they would’ve done upon arriving at Kris’ home is to put up a magical shield. Once we walk inside the castle, we will be unable to talk like this.

What? her voice exploded in his head.

Mac, calm down, he cautioned, as he noticed she was squirming in the seat. She appeared ready to jump out of the vehicle.

Jon, I don’t know if I can stand that, she said. He could feel her fear and sadness. First, you tell me that we will be separated and that I’ll have to feed from a bag. Now, you tell me that I won’t even be able to reach out to you if I need you.

Moglie mia, it will be okay, he tried to reassure her, even though he wasn’t sure if it would be. Richie will be there for you and so will Kristoff, and I’m sure you’ll just love Maria and vice versa. There will be plenty of people around that will take care of you while I can’t.

Mac felt a stabbing pain somewhere in the vicinity of her heart at his words. She realized that she hadn’t been away from him for very long since she met him, except for when Caleb had her and even then they’d had the link. She had never wanted to be one of those needy, clingy women who couldn’t bear to be away from their man, and she wasn’t happy about feeling that way now.

Jon was well aware of her emotions and thoughts as they flashed through his mind as well.

I’ll be fine, she assured him, raising her chin slightly.

He smiled at the stubborn tilt to her little chin, but that didn’t stop him from worrying about her.

The car pulled into the circular drive in front of Kristoff’s home.

This is it, moglie mia, he said softly in her head. Be strong.

I’ll be fine, she repeated.

Once they had climbed from the car, he took her hand in his as together they walked toward the entrance. Jon stopped at the door and fully aware that Vincent, Richie, and their driver were watching, pulled Mac into his arms. Kissing her deeply, he told her, I love you, Mac. Remember that.

She looked up at the dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes that had just opened the door. I won’t forget, I promise, she told Jon as he pulled away from her.

With their heads held high they entered the door hand in hand, together.

Chapter Twenty-seven

2007-11-06T13:22:00.000-06:00

The flight didn’t take as long as Mac had expected. They landed at Newark, then a limo took them to Jon’s home. They made small talk along the way, but Mac noticed the tension in Jon. It seemed to grow into a living thing the closer they got to his home. Richie had been asking her about Sandy since they left Dallas. He wanted to know everything about her, but Mac finally had to tell him that some things were just girlfriend secrets and that made them sacred. She did tell him about Sandy giving a party in his honor every year on his birthday, even making a cake. He laughed and told her that he’d like to crash the party next time. Mac assured him that Sandy would enjoy that.

When the limo pulled up in front of Jon’s home, Mac was so tired from all the traveling she didn’t even take the time to enjoy the palatial facade of the building. She just grabbed her gym bag and headed for the door. Jon, Richie, and the driver unloaded the luggage and brought it into the entry way. On his first trip into the house, Jon pointed out a room off the entryway and told her to go in there and make herself at home.

Mac walked into the room and almost collapsed into a comfortable looking armchair and with her head resting on the back of the chair, she closed her eyes. She was just dozing off when Jon scooped her up into his arms. Sleepily, she looked up at him. "Where are we going?"

"To our bedroom, moglie mia, you need to rest and then feed," he answered.

The rooms were passing by so fast that it was starting to make her dizzy, and when they started up some stairs, she finally had to close her eyes again and rest her head on his shoulder. When he gently laid her on the bed, she opened her eyes again and looked into piercing blue ones.

"Sleep, tesoro mia," he whispered against her forehead as he placed a kiss there. "I’ll wake you in a while."

Mac fell asleep, unaware that Jon just sat and watched her. Somehow, he needed to find the words to tell her what would happen tomorrow. He didn’t want the emissary to show up and her be in the dark. But, just like with Richie, he would not tell her what a guilty verdict would mean. He just couldn’t bring himself to break her heart like that, and he knew Richie would do something stupid if he knew. He would save them both from that as long as he could.

Somehow, he knew that Caleb hadn’t told the Council of his crime intentionally. Instinctively, he knew his old friend believed what he’d told him in El Paso, that Toby had gone rogue. Jon knew that Caleb had went to confess his own crime out of guilt of what he had done to Jon and Mac, but he’d known Caleb for many years, and Caleb had a tendency to tell everything he knew. If it was in his head, it came out his mouth, which meant that the confession of Jon’s own crime had been just an inadvertent thought that had flashed across Caleb’s mind and he’d just blurted it out. Jon didn’t blame Caleb for what he’d said. No. This was his crime, and he would shoulder the blame and accept the verdict. Somehow, he would have to make Mac and Richie accept it as well.

His gaze rested on Mac’s face, and he drank in the vision like a man crawling through the Sahara dying of thirst. How many more chances would he get to do this before the orders from the Council would separate them? As a witness against him, they would separate them, he knew, so that he wouldn’t be allowed to influence her testimony. She looked so peaceful. Her hair was spread out across his pillow, and her long eyelashes rested on her cheeks, not quite hiding the smudges there that gave silent testimony to just how tired she was. Her pert little nose wrinkled slightly; she must be dreaming. Briefly, he thought about linking with her mind to see what she was dreaming about, but decided against it. She was entitled to a little privacy. He tried to imprint this memory of her on his mind. To brand it on his brain so that he could hold it with him in the long days to come. He would need something to get him through the ordeal of the separation. Kristoff had told him once that a prolonged separation of life mates was a painful ordeal. He hoped that Richie or someone else would be able to help Mac through it. He wasn’t worried about himself. Jon decided it would be his punishment for turning her against her wishes, that and the punishment the Council would deal out, if any. Jon was a realist though, and he really didn’t see any way around the punishment. He was guilty of the crime, and that was it.

For a few minutes, he considered taking Mac and running. He knew what the sentence would be and that it would affect her too. But, what would their life be like, always running from the Council, whose reach was long and wide? If he ran, there would be no chance at a trial and possible exoneration. The Council would issue a death warrant, and any vampire would be obliged to carry it out. They would have to live the rest of their lives looking over their shoulder, never able to contact friends or family because they would be watched. To Jon, that seemed like the greater of the two evils. He would stand before the Council and hold his head up high as they announced his sentence.

He glanced at the clock on the night stand. Mac had been asleep for two hours. Jon didn’t want to waste any more of the time they had left. Quickly, he undressed then slid into the bed beside Mac. He woke her with a series of little kisses down the side of her neck, until he reached the neckline of her t-shirt. He sucked on her neck there, branding her as his.

"How long did I sleep?" she asked, groggily.

"A couple of hours," he answered as his hand slid beneath her shirt.

She arched against his hand as he moved to caress one breast through the lace of her bra.

"Let’s get you undressed," he whispered urgently against her lips, before their lips met in a fiery kiss, tongues dueling, teeth clashing. He pulled back briefly to whisper harshly, "I need you."

Mac didn’t miss the desperation in his words, nor his actions. Every caress of his hands, lick of his tongue, and movement of his body against hers spoke volumes to her. Some demon was riding him hard, and he was unintentionally conveying that to her. It felt to Mac like Jon was afraid this was the last time he would make love to her. He had removed her clothes with a need that had quickly washed away her drowsiness and carried her away on a wave of desire. What was it that was bothering him? With new found ease, she slid into his head.

What is bothering you? she asked him as his lips pulled on her nipple.

We’ll talk about it later, amore mio, he replied, as one of his hands glided down her belly and into the curls at her center, unerringly finding her swollen clit.

"Jon," she gasped. "Please."

Please what? he asked. His finger moving against her clit in perfect rhythm with her heartbeat.

"Oh God," she breathed, bucking her hips against his hand. She clutched at his shoulders.

Jon raised his head from her breast and looked down into her flushed face; he wanted to watch her come for him. You’re mine, Mac, admit it. The contact of their minds allowed him to feel her reactions to his touch, and he knew she was close to her orgasm. Slowing the movement of his fingers, he ordered again, Admit it, Mac.

She moved against him urgently. Yes, yes, I’m yours.

With her admission, he picked up his pace again, even as his hips pushed his erection against the heated skin of her hip. Her orgasm washed over him, and gritting his teeth against the pleasure, he raised himself above her and plunged inside her with an insatiable need, before the waves of her climax had receded. She cried out with ecstacy. His name a reverent prayer on her lips as she quickly found release again. Without realizing what she was doing, she pulled his neck down and sank her fangs into his jugular, drinking deeply as his hips ground against her and his own explosion followed hers.

Jon collapsed on the bed next to her, pulling her tightly against him. Even his embrace seemed filled with desperation to Mac. As together they tried to catch their breath and let their heartbeats slow, he knew what he had to do now.

Chapter Twenty-six

2007-10-09T12:20:00.000-05:00

Mac walked into the living room just in time to hear Sandy ask, "Can I see your fangs?"

Jon’s eyes moved from Sandy to Mac, with one eyebrow raised. "Couldn’t you have just shown her yours?"

"I can’t control mine yet," she answered, grinning at his discomfort.

Sandy was leaning over him slightly, when he opened his mouth to expose his fangs. Without an ounce of fear, the woman reached up and thumped his bottom left incisor that was way longer than it should have been with the tip of her first finger. Jon snapped his mouth shut in indignation, just barely missing Sandy’s finger as she withdrew it with a gasp and a jerk. No one had ever ‘pinged’ one of his fangs before, not even Richie had been brave enough to try it.

"They’re real," Sandy breathed.

"Excuse me?" he asked, glaring at the woman.

Mac rushed over and pulled Sandy away from Jon. "She didn’t mean anything by it, Jon, honest."

Jon turned his piercing blue gaze to Richie. He was surprised his friend wasn’t laughing his head off, but no, Richie sat on the couch just gaping at Sandy like she’d grown a second head.

"What? No two cents from the peanut gallery?" Jon asked the guitarist.

"I can’t believe you just did that," Richie said to Sandy in awe. "You’re either very brave or very stupid."

"Why?" Sandy asked. "I don’t think he’d really hurt me."

"You do realize that a vampire can attack in the blink of an eye, right?" Richie asked her.

"Yeah, maybe. But the question is...would he?"

"No, of course not," Mac blurted out, glaring at Jon.

Jon reached out to Mac’s mind. Moglie mia, of course I wouldn’t hurt your friend. But, she could at least show a little respect.

She’s just a little excited, Jon, she tried to explain.

I understand that, he told her shrugging, but damn it, I’m used to being at least a little feared once someone finds out.

Jon, Sandy realizes that I would never put her in danger. She trusts you because she trusts me. I promise if the circumstances had been different she would’ve feared you, she tried to soothe his obviously wounded pride, but ended up smiling and trying hard not to laugh out loud.

Realizing something was going on between the two of them, Sandy asked, "Am I missing something?"

"Get used to it," Richie advised, "they do it all the time."

"Do what, exactly?"

"They talk with their minds," Richie explained. "It can be quite annoying when you know they’re talking about you."

"Oh cool!" Sandy exclaimed. "Hey Mac, can you talk to me in my head?"

"Don’t know, haven’t tried to do that before," Mac answered her friend.

"Mac’s still unfamiliar with a lot of her new powers," Jon explained. "That’s just one of the things I still need to teach her."

They spent another couple of hours at Mac’s apartment. Jon and Mac spent a lot of time debunking myths about vampires for Sandy. Jon soon got over his initial dislike of Mac’s friend. You just couldn’t ignore her natural exuberance and genuine love of life. He could tell Richie was attracted to her; he’d known Richie too long not to recognize the difference between his simple flirting and when he was going for broke. Richie was indeed going for broke.

"I hate to break this up," Jon began, "but we really need to get back to the airport. I’d like to be back in Jersey before it gets too late."

Knowing they wouldn’t be in Dallas long, Mac and the two men had left their baggage on the jet, but Mac had wanted to grab a few things from her apartment because she wasn’t sure when she’d be back home.

"Just give me a few minutes to go get a few things," she told Jon.

Once Mac had left the room, Sandy turned a serious look on Jon. "I don’t care if you are a vampire and could kill me in a blink of an eye. Hurt her and I’ll stake you in your sleep," she warned in low tone.

Unprepared for the woman’s attack, Jon leaned forward resting his elbows on his thighs. "I wouldn’t hurt her," he told her. "If I hurt her, I hurt myself."

"Pardon me, if I don’t quite believe you," Sandy said softly. "I’ve seen a brief glimpse of your temper up close and personal and read about it over the years. I won’t sit idly by while you turn it on her or break her heart."

He was trying very hard not to lose his temper at Sandy’s words. Jon realized she was only trying to protect her friend. Hell, he’d done the same thing over the years when he thought Richie’s heart was in danger. "I can assure you that I love her very much. We’ll be together and still loving each other long after you’re in your grave."

Sandy realized that wasn’t a threat, just a comment on his and Mac’s extended life span. "I haven’t heard her say she loves you, yet," she pointed out.

"Yet is the operative word in that statement," he replied softly.

Richie had been silent until then, letting Jon deal with the situation as he saw fit, but had to add, "Sandy, I’ve never seen him feel this strongly for a woman before. And whether or not she’s admitted it or not, I really think Mac loves him too. She hasn’t admitted it to me either, but I’ve seen them together and I can see it. I know he won’t hurt her."

"Good to know," Sandy replied, just before Mac walked back into the room carrying a gym bag.

"I hope this won’t hold us up too long at security," Mac said, holding the bag up slightly.

"It was nice to meet you, Sandy," Jon said as he stood from the sofa and extended a hand toward Mac’s friend.

Jon was surprised when the woman didn’t take his hand, but instead, gave him a big hug, saying, "Forget the hand shake, Jon, you’re family now."

Sandy accompanied the trio to the parking lot and gave Richie a kiss on the cheek, slipping her card into the pocket of his jeans as she did so. "Call me sometime, Richie," she said with a wink.

"I’ll do that, darlin’," he told her in a husky voice, before joining Jon in the car.

Mac hugged Sandy. "I’ll see you soon, and I’ll call even sooner," she promised.

"I know," Sandy answered. "I love you, girlfriend, take care of you."

"I will," Mac assured her, "I love you too."

Mac pulled away from her friend and walked over to the driver’s side of the car. With one last wave at her friend, she got in the car and pulled out of her parking space.

Chapter Twenty-five

2007-09-30T18:05:00.000-05:00

Richie woke to someone pounding on his door. Hard. He glanced at the travel clock on the bedside table. 7am. Who in the hell would be stupid enough to knock on his door at such an ungodly hour? The answer immediately popped into his head. Jon. Richie also knew it had to be something important.

Rolling out of bed and pulling jeans on as he went, he hurried to the door. Jerking it open, he grimaced at Jon’s appearance. His friend hadn’t shaved, and he was wearing a pair of gray sweats and a faded t-shirt. Jon’s hair looked like he had raked his fingers through it several times in aggravation.

"C’mon in Bro," Richie told him, as he turned and walked over to plop on the sofa. After noticing the two styrofoam cups in Jon’s hands, he added, "I see you thought to bring me some coffee."

"Yeah," Jon replied, handing one of the cups to Richie. "I figured you were going to need it."

"So what’s your problem with Mac this morning?" the guitarist asked, assuming that the only problem Jon could possibly have this early in the morning would have to be about her.

"It’s not Mac," Jon replied, sitting down in the chair across from Richie.

"Okay, spill."

"Caleb went to the Council," Jon told him.

"What? Why would he do that?"

"He went to confess his crime," Jon explained. "But while he was at it, he confessed mine."

"And what crime did you commit?"

"I changed a human without her permission," Jon answered, flatly.

"Oh fuck."

"Yeah, my sentiments exactly," Jon told him.

Jon explained the situation to Richie quickly. Then said, "And the Council has demanded yours and Mac’s presence. You both are being called as witnesses." He paused, not sure how to tell Richie the rest. "Witnesses for the prosecution, Rich."

"Well, I guess they’re just shit outta luck," Richie proclaimed. "Cause there’s no way in hell I’m going to testify against you."

"Rich," Jon began patiently, "if you don’t show up, they will judge me guilty without having the benefit of a trial and being able to present any kind of defense."

"Well, fuck," Richie swore. "When are we leaving?"

"Kristoff said that the Council’s emissary would be waiting at my home for me to arrive. He was giving me the option of running if I was guilty. I intend to carry on as planned and go to Dallas with Mac, then on to Jersey. The emissary will be there in a hotel, waiting on me to arrive in town. Once he makes contact with me, he won’t let me out of his sight until we arrive at Kristoff’s home."

"So, I guess I’m traveling with you and Mac to Russia, by way of Dallas and Jersey," Richie said, resigned.

"I’m not going to tell Mac what’s going on until I have to," Jon told him, "I would appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to her. Just go along with whatever I end up telling her about why you’re traveling with us."

"I’ve got your back, Bro," Richie said. And he meant it. Somehow, he would figure out a way to get out of testifying against his best friend.

The flight to Dallas seemed to be way too fast to Jon, but then he was very conscious of time slipping away. He had gotten by with just telling Mac that Richie was traveling to Jersey with them because they wanted to work on some things for the European leg of the tour.

The trio retrieved Mac’s car from long term parking and rode to her home. Jon thought the little two bedroom apartment was quite homey, but Mac kept apologizing for everything. The size and the mess she’d left behind when she’d driven to the airport, what seemed like a lifetime ago, to start this assignment.

"Well, guys," Mac announced, "make yourselves at home, I’m going to run into the office and get this over with."

"I’m going with you," Jon told her.

"Do you know what kind of problem you arriving at my office is going to cause?" she asked him.

"Do you think I care?" he returned.

"Jon," she tried.

"Mac," he countered. He knew that Caleb wasn’t a threat anymore but she didn’t, and he decided to use it. "Caleb could still be out there."

Mac decided not to argue with him. She would just tell everyone that she’d explain why he was with her later. They left Richie flipping through the channels on her television looking for something to watch. Mac was hoping that Jon’s baseball cap and sunglasses would keep most people from recognizing him, but she knew if Sandy was in the office there would be no fooling her.

The discussion in Joseph’s office wasn’t nearly as hard as she’d thought it would be, and surprisingly her boss didn’t ask about Jon’s presence. Joseph looked at Jon questioningly when he entered the room with Mac, but that was his only acknowledgment that the singer was even in the room. He tried to talk Mac out of leaving and told her to think about at least continuing to work for the magazine on a free lance basis. She promised she would, then shook hands with Joseph before she left his office.

Mac was thanking her lucky stars that they hadn’t encountered Sandy, until she almost ran into her friend in the hallway.

"You’re back," Sandy exclaimed in surprise hugging Mac.

"Yeah," Mac replied.

That’s when Sandy noticed Jon. "Holy shit," she gasped.

"I get that a lot," he told her, smiling and sticking out his hand. "You must be Sandy. It’s very nice to finally meet you."

Sandy let Jon take her hand, but she stood with her mouth agape. "Holy shit," she breathed again.

"Sandy," Mac said, trying to draw her friend’s attention to her, "when you can get outta here today, come by my apartment. We need to talk."

"Sure, okay," Sandy said, never taking her eyes off Jon.

"I’ll see you then," Mac told her, pulling on Jon’s hand and leading him to the elevator.

"Sure, yeah, okay," Sandy said, still staring in shock at Jon.

"You’re friend’s funny," Jon told her as the elevator doors closed on Sandy’s gaping face.

Mac decided now was as good a time as any to tell Jon that she intended to tell Sandy the whole truth. "Jon, when Sandy comes to my apartment this evening, I’m going to tell her about us and that I’m a vampire now."

"Mac," he began, one eyebrow raised, "are you sure that’s a good idea? She’s a reporter."

"So am I, Jon," she reminded him.

"Are you sure she isn’t going to spill her guts?"

"She wouldn’t do that to me," Mac answered. "Girlfriend secrets are sacred."

"I’m not comfortable with this," he told her.

Mac couldn’t help the anger that crept into her tone. "Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you turned me."

Jon winced. "Mac," he tried to placate her before her temper went nuclear, "please. Let’s not go there now."

"I’m telling her, Jon," she replied, frowning. "I realize you don’t trust her, but I do."

"Fine," he conceded, "I trust you, so do what you think is best."

"I’m glad I have your permission. ‘Cause I was going to do it anyway," she said just as the doors slid open in the lobby.

They were both silent on the ride back to Mac’s apartment. Mac was trying to find the words to tell her friend, and Jon was trying to find the words to explain his actions to the Council.

Jon and Mac had only been back at her apartment for half an hour when there was a knock on the door. Mac was surprised to find Sandy on the other side.

"Sandy, what are you doing here so quick? You must of left right after we did."

"You’re shitting me right? Like I was going to hang around there after Joseph told me you quit! Not when I knew I’d get the explanation here," Sandy told her as she walked into the apartment. That’s when Sandy saw them. The Dynamic Duo sitting right there on her best friend’s sofa. "Holy fuck!"

Jon laughed, turning to look at Richie, "That must be you, I’m holy shit." Richie joined in his laughter. The two men were very used to this reaction from women. Mac looked at Jon, thankfully he had put the glamour back into place before she had let their guest into the apartment. Grinning at her friend, Mac led Sandy to a chair but had to push the other woman into it, since apparently all her friend could do was stare at the two men. Mac’s living room was arranged with the sofa facing the television and two comfortable overstuffed chairs on each end of the sofa, with a long coffee table in the center. The two chairs were facing each other, and Mac moved to sit in the other on Jon’s end of the sofa.

Richie leaned forward and reached out a hand to the newcomer. "You must be Sandy, it’s a pleasure to meet you."

Sandy managed to take his offered hand, but only managed to say, "Holy fuck."

"Don’t take it personally, Rich," Jon said, smiling, "she couldn’t say much more than that when she saw me at the office."

"I’m so sorry," Sandy finally managed to say, "you must both think me incredibly rude."

"Star struck, maybe, darlin," Richie said, smiling at her, "but not rude."

"Don’t know why everyone’s always star struck around us though, Rich," Jon added, "we’re just normal guys."

Richie looked at his friend and smiled, "Well, one of us is a normal guy."

"Not now, Rich," Jon ordered softly.

"No, now is the perfect time," Mac interjected. "I thought you were in a hurry to get to Jersey, Jon. We might as well get this over with now."

"Now?" Jon asked, "You mean right here, right now?"

"Can you think of a better place?" Mac demanded.

"Well, I was thinking you’d take her in another room and tell her, and I wouldn’t even have to be present for the actual telling," Jon told her, winking to lighten her mood.

"Coward," Mac accused.

"You bet," he laughed.

"Sandy, come with me," Mac said, as she stood up. "We’ll leave the cowards in here."

Taking one last longing look at the duo on the sofa, Sandy followed Mac to her bedroom. Mac was already sitting on her bed when Sandy walked into the room.

"Have a seat," she offered, and watched as Sandy sat on the edge of the bed.

"This sounds serious," Sandy said gravely.

"It is," Mac told her, even though she wasn’t sure where to start.

"Well," Sandy said, shrugging, "I think we should hurry up and get it over with so we can get back out there," she jerked her head toward the living room, "with those two gorgeous men."
Both women laughed softly.

"Sandy," Mac said when the laughter died down, "this is a huge secret, and you can’t tell anyone."

Sandy looked indignant. "I’ve never told a girlfriend secret in my entire life."

"Jon’s a vampire, and not really married," Mac blurted out, unable to hold it in any longer.

Sandy fell back on the bed laughing. "That’s a good one, Mac," she said between bursts of laughter. "So, what’s the real secret?"

Sandy got a real good look then at Mac’s expression. "Oh my God," Sandy gasped, "you’re serious!" Mac nodded in answer, and Sandy’s look of disbelief was priceless. "Spill the rest," Sandy ordered.

"The wife is a hired actress to give him the All-American boy look," Mac explained. "He’s really 444 years old, and I’m his life-mate."

"What?" Sandy gasped. "What exactly does that mean?"

"Long story short," Mac answered, "it means he needs me to survive. He says he loves me, and I believe him, but there’s so many things wrong in this whole thing. I just don’t know, Sandy."

"So that’s why you quit the magazine? So you could go with him?"

"There’s more to the story," Mac explained. Then launched off into the story about being kidnapped, and how Jon had turned her to save her life.

"Oh wow," Sandy breathed, "you’re a vampire too? How does that effect you being a witch?"

"It hasn’t seemed to effect it at all. Rhymes still cause the same kind of problems," she joked.

"What about drinking blood?" Sandy asked.

"I can only drink Jon’s," Mac answered, "it’s part of the life-mate thing. He does the hunting and I drink from him."

"I can tell you right now Mac, I wouldn’t mind drinking from that gorgeous hunk of man," Sandy told her. "Oh my God," Sandy exclaimed, "I just realized...this means you’ve had sex with Jon Bon Jovi!"

Mac rolled her eyes. Of course, the one thing her friend would get out of this whole conversation would be the sex aspect. "Sandy, you don’t get it. I have to stay with Jon, because if I don’t drink his blood every night, I’ll die."

"Sorry, Mac," Sandy said, "I’m not exactly feeling sympathetic here."

"Don’t you see, Sandy?" Mac tried to make her friend understand. "That means I can’t go out on assignment anymore or do anything that involves being away from him for very long."

"And you get that gorgeous, rich man in exchange," Sandy pointed out. "Sorry, girlfriend, but I’m not seeing a problem with this deal. In fact, where do I sign up? Is Richie a vampire too by any chance?"

"No, he’s human," Mac answered, shaking her head in disgust. Why couldn’t Sandy see the drawbacks to her relationship with Jon?

"Can I see your fangs?" her friend asked.

"I haven’t quite learned how to control them yet," Mac told her, "but I guess Jon could show you his."

"Cool," Sandy said excitedly, jumping off the bed.

Mac watched her friend hurry from the room and then got up to follow her. Hopefully, Jon wouldn’t freak out too much over Sandy’s request.

Chapter Twenty-four

2007-09-18T10:54:00.000-05:00

Mac awoke with a jerk; she’d been dreaming again. Jon’s arms tightened around her, but she could still hear the deep even breathing that signaled he was still asleep. Carefully, she eased out of his arms and the bed and padded softly to the bathroom. Closing the door quietly, she flipped on the light switch. Blinded briefly by the quick change from darkness, she blinked several times at her reflection in the mirror.

She giggled softly at the woman in the mirror. Standing there in nothing but the waistband of her sweat pants, the strings still tangled in a mess of knots. While she stood there, she replayed the events of the dream in her mind. Since she was a small child, she had dreamed of other people, strangers really, from different times. Dreams of the past. That’s what she’d always called them, but she wasn’t sure who the people were or why she dreamed of them. But, tonight the dream had been slightly different. She had dreamed about this particular woman before, but tonight the woman and the others in the dream had been speaking Italian. The strange thing was that Mac had understood every word they had spoken, just as if they had been speaking English. The only words of Italian that Mac knew were the few endearments Jon had used, well the ones he’d translated for her, anyway.

"Mac? Are you okay," she heard Jon’s voice from the other side of the door.

"Yeah," she answered, "I’ll be right out."

She put the puzzle of her dream away for another time, used the bathroom and washed her hands, splashing a bit of cold water on her face before she left the room.

"Come back to bed, moglie mia," Jon’s voice met her when she walked back into the bedroom.

"I’m sorry that I woke you," she told him softly, as she climbed back into bed with him.

"Don’t worry about it," he said sleepily, as he pulled her back into his arms. He quickly fell back to sleep with his chin resting on the top of her head.

*************************

The next morning, Mac awoke to Jon’s voice in the other room, apparently he was on the phone. She could tell by the few words she could make out that it was a business call. She stretched lazily and let out a big yawn.

Good morning, tesoro mia, Jon’s voice sounded in her head.

He had linked their minds when he woke up, but he’d went about his morning business calls maintaining the link. He’d sensed her beginning to wake up and had waited until she was fully awake to talk to her.

Do you have to be so cheerful? she responded.

No, I guess I could be a morning grump too, he joked.

Aren’t you in the middle of a business call? she asked.

Yeah, but they can wait a sec while I say good morning to my beautiful life mate, he told her.

G’morning, she answered. I don’t suppose you could back off and give me a minute alone, huh?

I guess I could, he sounded disappointed, we’ll talk later.

Mac felt him go. Did he think everything was okay between them just because he’d told her he loved her and convinced her to feed last night? Apparently so. But, Mac still wasn’t sure she was comfortable with just how much her life was about to change. She had realized last night after he’d left her locked in her room just how big a change this was going to cause. She was going to have to quit her job that she loved, because she couldn’t go off chasing a story and be gone from Jon, since she needed his blood to survive. Also, Mac realized that close friendships would be hard from now on, because after a few years people would wonder why she didn’t age, but she supposed that Jon could teach her how to mask that the way he did. What had he called it? Oh, yeah. A glamour. She’d have to remember to ask him to show her how to do that.

Sandy. Her friend’s name popped into her head. She hadn’t talked to her in days, and this wasn’t exactly something she could tell her over the phone, but she would have to tell her friend. Oh, damn. Her parents. How was she going to tell her parents?

She tossed off the covers and went into the bathroom to shower and start her day. When she came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her, she found Jon leaning against the door leading into the sitting room. He had a can of Dr. Pepper in his hand and a huge smile on his face. Mac decided he must be proud of himself for remembering to get her some caffeine.

"I take it that’s for me?" she asked.

"Only if I get a reward," he answered, softly, with a small smirk on his face.

"Ah," she nodded in understanding, "it’s a bribe then."

"Call it whatever you want, as long as I get a kiss outta the deal," he laughed.

She walked over to him and stood on tip-toes to drop a light kiss on the tip of his nose. Mac snatched the can of soda from his hand, and tossed, "Thank you," over her shoulder as she turned to walk away.

"You call that a kiss?" he asked, grabbing her hand and pulling her into his arms.

She looked up at him and replied with a serious tone, "Yeah, look up ‘kiss’ in a dictionary."

"This is a kiss," he told her, just before he bent his golden head to touch his lips to hers.

When their mouths met, she relaxed against him, and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue past the barrier of her lips to rub it eagerly against her own. Mac wasn’t prepared for the assault on her senses. Her unanswered questions and problems still bounced around in her head. Suddenly, the icy coldness of the can in her hand put an evil idea in her head. She slid her empty hand up his chest to caress the heated skin, and just as he leaned into her caress she stuck the cold can to his chest. Yelping in surprise, he released her and jumped back.

She spun away from him and ran to the bathroom. "That’ll teach you to hold my caffeine hostage," she called out over her shoulder, right before she slammed the bathroom door in his face.

"Witch," he muttered.

She peeped out the bathroom door. "And don’t you forget it," she laughed, before slamming the door again.

Jon just laughed at her and went to find a t-shirt. In a minute, he reached out to her mind. I’m going to the hotel gym to workout, Mac. I’ll be back in about an hour, he told her. When I get back, do you want to go to sound check with me?

No, she answered, I’m going to put the finishing touches on my article and email it to my boss. She realized then that she needed to contact Joseph and hand in her resignation.

Jon heard that thought as it flashed across her mind. When we finish with the show here in Vegas, I’ll go with you to Dallas so you can do it in person, he told her softly. If that’s what you really wanna do.

I don’t see how I could continue to work, and be with you so that I can feed every night, she responded.

Jon could feel her frustration and anger. We could try to come up with something, moglie mia, he said gently.

I don’t wanna talk about this now, Jon, she replied tartly.

Okay, he said, I love you, Mac. He didn’t wait to see if she would respond in kind; he just withdrew from her mind and left the hotel room.

*************************

While Jon was gone, Mac looked at the tour itinerary that she had been given. Tonight’s show was the last one on this leg of the tour. After doing a lot of pacing, she decided that she would let Jon go with her to Dallas, and she would speak to Joseph. She would have to see Sandy while she was there and tell her, but Mac really didn’t want to tell her parents just yet. She still had no idea how she was going to break the news to them that their beloved tenth generation witch daughter was now a blood sucking vamp.

That night’s show went off without a hitch. Jon took the time to feed, after catching a couple of groupies hanging out by the door to the backstage area. He fed from both, knowing he needed the extra blood so that he could feed Mac.

He wasn’t sure what was wrong with Mac, but when he’d returned from his workout, they had talked and she had seemed remote and distant. He’d read her finished article, because he had only agreed to it on the condition that he had final approval before anything was printed about the band, not because he had any doubts what she might have put in it.

She was still determined to hand in her resignation when they flew to Dallas. He knew she didn’t want to quit her job, but he hadn’t come up with any other good ideas. Maybe he should present this latest problem to Richie. One of his friend’s occasional flashes of brilliance would come in handy about now.

The two of them went to bed that night with plans to take the private jet to Dallas the next day. The other band members were all booked on commercial flights. Richie was flying out to L.A. and Tico to Florida. David and Hugh were on the same flight out.

Mac woke up to Areosmith’s Walk This Way, and it took her a second to realize it was Jon’s cell phone ringing from the night stand. "Jon,"she said sleepily, and shook his shoulder gently.

"Wake up, your cell is ringing."

"What?" he asked, groggily, but then realized for himself what she was trying to tell him. Jerking up his phone, he answered it with, "This better be good. What the hell time is it?"

"Just after 4 am," Mac answered him softly.

Jon had went completely silent when he heard the commanding tone of the person on the other end of the line. "Hold on just a second," he said into the phone. Then to Mac, "Go back to sleep, moglie mia. I’ll go in the other room."

Once the door clicked softly and he was in the other room, he said into the phone, "Okay, I’m alone now."

Kristoff began speaking quickly in Russian.

"English, please, Kris," Jon requested, "I want to make sure I get every word of this."

In heavily accented English, Kristoff began again. "I’m calling to warn you my friend. Caleb arrived at my home last evening. He...how do you say? Ah yes, spilled his guts. He demanded that I convene the Council. He will stand accused of," here the Russian paused, "Uh, I’m not sure of the English word, Giovanni. But, he will stand accused of taking your lifemate against hers and your wishes."

"And you’re calling to tell me that I’m being called as a witness against him?" Jon asked softly. He didn’t want to wake Mac again.

"Not only that, my friend," Kristoff told him, solemnly. "When the first Council member arrived here this morning, Caleb not only told his story again, but he added the detail that you had changed your lifemate against her wishes."

Jon had been pacing the floor as he talked to his friend, but now he fell into a chair and raked his fingers through his hair in frustration.

At his silence, Kristoff continued, "And now, the Council’s emissary is on his way to your home to bring you to stand trial before the Council."

"Fuck," Jon swore softly.

"Are you guilty of the crime of turning a human against their wishes, Giovanni?" Kristoff asked, concerned.

"Yes," Jon admitted.

Kristoff swore violently in Russian. "Giovanni, why would you do this?" he finally asked.

"She was dying in my arms, Kris," Jon told him, "I couldn’t stand by and watch her die, not when I could save her."

"I understand," Kristoff replied quickly, "she is your lifemate, the light to your darkness. I would have done the same."

"That’s not the only reason I did it," Jon explained, "I love her, Kris. I didn’t want to lose her."

"I understand," the Russian told him.

"Kris, why did you risk yourself this way to warn me? Why didn’t you just let the emissary tell me the news?" Jon asked him.

"Because if you were guilty, my friend, I wanted you to have the chance to run," Kristoff answered him, his tone grave.

"I appreciate that, Kris, I really do," Jon told him, "but I wouldn’t do that to you. The Council would surely know that you had warned me and take action."

"Giovanni, that is not all I called to tell you. The Council has also demanded that your lifemate and your friend, Richie present testimony," he paused meaningfully, "for the prosecution."

"Richie will refuse," Jon told him quickly. Knowing his friend like he did, Jon knew that Richie would refuse to testify against him.

"You must explain the penalty to you if he does," Kristoff told him. "Surely, he would not risk that."

"No," Jon agreed with Kristoff, "but he won’t like it."

"He doesn’t have to like it," the Russian replied, "he must only come or you will face the consequences."

"I’ll make him see how important it is," Jon assured his friend.

"Good," Kristoff responded, "I must go now, Giovanni, before I’m caught talking to you. Just know that I will help you however I can."

"As long as you don’t put yourself and Maria at risk," Jon told him. "I’ll see you soon, but Kris, I’m not going straight home. My lifemate has business to attend to and I must accompany her."

"Da," Kristoff told him, "be careful, Giovanni. And be safe."

Jon closed his cell, disconnecting the call. This was bad. Really, really bad. He stood up, and began to pace again. Quickly, he began to make a mental list of all the things he had to do. There was no way he would get back to sleep, but he would let Richie sleep a little longer before he woke him with the news that he wasn’t going home after all. He would have to go to Russia with Jon and Mac.

Chapter Twenty-Three

2007-09-10T10:44:00.000-05:00

Jon’s lips left hers to kiss a trail across her cheek and down her neck to her jugular, pausing only long enough to pull her T-shirt off over her head. I should give you a spanking though, he told her, his grin evident in the voice in her mind.

"Why?" she asked out loud.

For throwing the vase at me, he answered, reigning kisses on her heated flesh as he continued on a path down her neck and across her collarbone.

"But Jon," she said pulling away to look into his blue eyes, "I didn’t do that on purpose. I just looked at the vase and thought about hitting you with it, and it went flying across the room. It surprised the hell outta me."

Telekinesis is one of your new powers, Mac, he explained to her, as relentlessly he returned to his task. I’ll have to teach you how to control it better. His path of kisses finally reached her left breast. But then there’s a lot of things I’ll need to teach you.

Mac gasped as he placed little kisses along the lacy line of her bra to the front clasp, releasing it with his teeth. With a mind of their own, her hands moved to either side of his head, clutching him tighter to her, as her fingers threaded into the silky golden strands of his hair. Their position in the bed wasn’t exactly ideal for making love, but she wouldn’t move now if the room was on fire. Mac was half reclining against the head board, and Jon had been sitting at her feet with her raised knees between them. But, when he started his tender assault, he had leaned forward between her raised knees, his sculpted chest resting on the gentle curve of her stomach and the six pack hardness of his abdomen laying in the cradle of her thighs.

Her breath caught in her throat when he took one hardened nipple in his mouth to suckle deeply. Mac, you know you have to feed soon, right? he asked, as he plumped her other breast with one hand and soon his lips traveled there to give it the same treatment.

It was only then, that she realized her fangs had lengthened during their love play, but the realization was only a fleeting thought. She was having trouble concentrating on anything but the heat of his mouth as he sucked deeply on her breast, the velvety roughness of his tongue as it circled her nipple, and the slight scrape of his barely there whiskers whenever his cheek or chin brushed against her ultra sensitive skin.

Jon understood why she didn’t answer him. He was as aware of her feelings and desires as he was his own. Smirking against her skin, he blazed a trail of kisses from one breast back to the other, while one hand caressed its way down the silken plain of her stomach, pausing to stroke her side lightly with just the tips of his fingers before finally stopping at the waist of the jogging pants she wore.

Instinctively, Mac thrust her hips against him; her hands clutched at his shoulders. She raised her upper body from the pillows, her back curving as she craned her neck to reach the top of his head. She buried her nose in the golden halo of his hair; the heady scent of him was intoxicating. She kissed the top of his head.

Jon’s grunt of frustration brought her back to reality. Mac realized he was struggling with the drawstring of her pants. Somehow, he had gotten the strings all tangled and they were a ball of knots. She chuckled softly at him.

The throaty sound she made drew his eyes to hers. "This is not funny, Mac," he told her in a voice laced with his frustration.

She grinned at her own need mirrored in his eyes. "Yeah, it is," she answered him, "well, slightly."

"Really?" he asked sarcastically. "How funny is this?" He grasped the waist band of the pants with one hand and a fist full of the fabric bunched at her abdomen and jerked it apart forcefully. The sound of the fabric rending and her gasp filled the room.

She didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. His lips tracing the waist band of her panties took away all coherent thought. Her hands on his shoulders began tugging at his shirt until she had the back bunched up at his shoulders, clutched in her fists.

He paused at his task long enough to finish the job for her, pulling it off over his head, before going back to his relentless, sweet torture. As he pulled her panties from her, she played connect the dots, her fingernails tracing a line from one freckle to the other across his shoulders. Jon didn’t even flinch when those same nails dug into the skin of his shoulders when his tongue made contact with the satin on the inside of her thigh, drawing little, wet, hot circles there as he moved closer to her center.

She gasped his name out loud, before making the contact he wanted so badly. You have on entirely too many clothes, she told him, the voice in his head deep and husky with passion.

So? he replied, I’m busy. His tongue found the button at her center and her hips thrust against him in reaction. His hands slid under her to grasp the globes of her bottom, holding her in place as he feasted. His tongue circled first one way then the other, getting faster with each change of direction.

When he thrust his tongue inside her, she drew in a sharp breath and screamed in his head, Oh my God, Jon! Her heels dug into the sheets and the muscles of her ass tightened in his palms as she came.

He continued to place gentle kisses on her heated skin as she floated down. Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings again, but the need to have him inside her was still strong.

Her need washed over him. He stood on his knees and jerked the fly of his jeans open, the buttons making a slight popping sound as each one came loose of it’s hole. You’re not the only one that needs that, moglie mia, he told her roughly. I need to be inside you as bad as I need the next breath I take.

His jeans pooled at his knees that rested just millimeters from her bottom, before he sat back on his heels. Grasping her hips, he pulled her toward him until her ass lay on his muscular thighs and her upper body lay prone on the bed. He paused until her eyes met the piercing blue of his. His hands pulled her toward him and he entered her in one fluid motion. His gaze held hers as he began to move inside of her; she couldn’t look away now if she wanted to. Inch by excruciating inch, he slid back inside as she pushed her pelvis toward him in welcome. Try as she might, there didn’t seem to be anything she could do to make him quicken his pace. The muscle in his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together. Forcing himself to stay in control of this sweet torture and draw it out as long as he could was taking it’s toll on him.

Mac, pay attention, he told her as he moved insider her, picking up the pace as he spoke to her, you have to feed soon. I’m not going to bite you. He felt her disappointment at his words and tried to explain, I can’t, bambina, you need blood too badly. You need to feed; when you’re ready bite me.

I’m not sure I can, Jon, she answered in his head, but moaned out loud when he gripped her hips tighter. I don’t know if I can bring myself to do it; blood has got to taste awful.

The need and desire for blood should be as instinctive as your need and desire for me right now, he told her, as his hands left her hips and slid up her body to caress her breasts.

"Jon," she gasped, as his fingertips plucked at the hardened peaks of her nipples as skillfully as they plucked his guitar’s strings.

He knew he had to convince her to bite him, to feed, but he had known that coaxing her into her first feeding would be a difficult task. Jon leaned forward slightly and slid his hands under the graceful curves of her shoulders, then pulled her into a sitting position on his lap. Ride me, tesora mia, and when the urge to bite me is strong...do it.

Tentatively, she began to move, still unsure if she would be able to bite him. Mac was rewarded by a husky groan from him as he thrust up to meet her. She could feel his pleasure mixing with her own as she enjoyed the control and power this position gave her.

He knew what she was feeling and thinking. That’s right, moglie mia, you’re in control. Take me, take what belongs to you. Take what you need. I give it freely. He could feel her tensing in his arms as she quickened her pace. Her inner muscles starting to tighten around him, drawing him in deeper was almost his undoing, but he kept his tenuous grip on his control.

I’m coming, Jon, even her voice in his head was breathless, throaty and full of passion.

The uncontrollable desire to bite him washed over her as the first wave of her orgasm crested, and without thinking about it, her fangs sank into his jugular and she drank deeply and moved on him, riding the waves of her orgasm. The sweet tangy taste of his blood flowed over her tongue as she sucked at his neck and he exploded inside her.

"Oh my God, Mac," he cried out, meeting each of her downward thrusts with a powerful one of his own as she milked him dry.

Chapter Twenty-two

2007-09-02T17:11:00.000-05:00

Jon sat in the hotel bar, drinking his third cosmopolitan and eyeing the available smorgasbord. He saw a pretty brunette leaving the bar alone; now was his chance. He followed her outside and to her car. Jon managed to contain his fury with Mac, so that he didn’t hurt the innocent woman. Leaving the woman safely locked inside her car with no memory of what happened, he went back to the bar. He couldn’t go to far from the hotel and maintain the hold on Mac’s doors.

He was on his fifth cosmo and smoking a cigarette, when Richie found him. Richie could see that Jon was in a full blown fit of rage. Wondering what had happened to push him this far, the guitarist sat down at Jon’s elbow. Richie was probably the only person brave enough to confront Jon when his temper was this close to boiling. Richie wouldn’t exactly call it bravery; it was more that he trusted that Jon wouldn’t really hurt him. He might say something in anger that would cut Richie to the bone, but words wouldn’t leave him dead. His throat ripped out and all blood gone.

"So," Richie said softly, "how’s it hangin’ there, Kidd?"

"Don’t ask," Jon answered.

"But it is still hangin’ right?" Richie asked grinning. "I mean, Mac didn’t cut it off or anything did she?"

"Only because she hasn’t thought of it yet," Jon answered dryly.

"Where is the little woman?"

"Locked in her room," Jon replied.

"Locked?"

"Yeah, do you believe the little witch threw a vase of flowers at my head?" Jon told him.

"Was it a bullseye or a miss?" Richie asked, grin still in place.

"Bullseye," Jon answered. "Her aim is deadly accurate."

"So, that’s what’s got you so angry," Richie stated.

"Well that, and she was going to leave. I found her packing."

"Jon you can’t keep her locked up. If she wants to leave, well, you pretty much have to let her," Richie told him.

"Even if it means that she’ll die?"

"Die?"

"Yeah, she needs my blood to survive," Jon answered.

There was just a slight pause; Richie didn’t even have time to respond to Jon’s statement, before Jon cursed, "Shit!" and got up from the barstool and started to leave.

Richie grabbed his arm. "What is it?"

"I haven’t fed her," Jon answered softly, before storming from the bar.

It had been a few hours since he left her beating on the door. For the entire ride up in the elevator, Jon worried over his reception. He didn’t know first hand about the pull between life mates, but Kristoff had told him that it was a powerful thing. Jon did know that he was drawn to Mac like a magnet to steel, even as angry as he was. But, did she feel that same pull? Was she still angry? Would she fight him on taking his blood? Something she needed so desperately? She had said that she didn’t want to drink blood, but he realized he had forced that on her. Had he been right to do it? He knew he had turned her out of selfishness, not to save himself as she had accused, but because he couldn’t bear to live without her. He did love her. He knew that now, as well as he knew that the sun would rise in the morning.

She was a beauty; he’d give her that, but he also admired her other qualities. She was strong, stubborn, and independent. She had an intelligent mind and a quick wit. There were so many things to love about her, that he knew he couldn’t count them all. But, he was also afraid that if he told her now, that she’d never believe him. Regardless of what Richie thought.

He entered her room cautiously. Finding the sitting room empty, he moved to the door of her bedroom. She was laying on her side in the bed. The tear stains on her cheeks tugged at his heart. Had she cried herself to sleep?

Jon sat down on the edge of the bed at her hip. Bending over her, he lovingly stroked her face. "Mac," he said softly, straightening and laying one hand on her hip.

His name was a question on her lips as she opened her eyes. Groggily, she looked at him. But, he knew the moment she remembered her anger. She sat up, digging her heels into the bed until she had pushed herself up against the headboard.

He joined their minds then, but spoke to her aloud. "We need to talk."

"I know," she answered, "but I’m still angry."

Because of the link, Jon could feel her anger, but what made him rethink his whole position was the fear he also felt. What was she afraid of?

"I’m afraid of losing me," she answered the question she had felt flash across her mind.

He knew that wasn’t all there was to it. "You won’t," he assured her.

With their minds joined he could feel her fear, and was able to determine the cause. If she was more experienced in using the link, she would have the answers she was seeking. If only. He shook his head at his own stupidity. She didn’t want to be needed just to keep him sane, and she didn’t want to be a liability, only kept around because he needed her. He realized she needed to be wanted. For herself. Richie had been right after all.

"Mac," he began, "when I ran out of that warehouse and saw you broken and bleeding, dying in Richie’s arms, I lost it." Jon laid one hand on her raised knee. "I couldn’t bear to lose you. I held you, begging you to wake up, to talk to me. I wanted to ask permission to change you, but you didn’t open your eyes and look at me." He leaned forward to gently stroke one cheek. "You couldn’t answer me, and I loved you too much to let you die." He waited a few seconds, letting his words sink in. "Use the link, Mac," he told her. "You’ll be able to see I’m telling the truth." He moved until their lips were almost touching. "Ti amo."

He kissed her softly, nibbling gently on her bottom lip. When she didn’t push him away, he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue in to taste her sweetness. His tongue slid across hers, and she let out a sexy little moan, that sound that drove him crazy.

Did you just say you loved me? she asked him. In Italian?

Yes, moglie mia, ti amo. I love you, he told her in both his native language and the one she would understand.

But then, with her hands resting on his chest, she pushed him away. "Is it true? Do you really love me? Or am I just the person you need to live another 450 years?"

"Our minds are joined, Mac," he told her. "You should be able to feel what I feel for you." It had occurred to Jon that Mac hadn’t confessed how she felt about him, but he tried not to let himself be concerned about that right now. He realized it was more important to convince her of his feelings. He left his feelings completely bare for her to see them. No masks, no defenses.

His love seemed to envelope Mac, and it warmed her heart. She leaned forward to press her lips to his, but he was the one that deepened the kiss. Their tongues tangling in an erotic dance that left her weak.

Make love to me, Jon, she pleaded.

Your wish is my command, amore mio, he answered her.

Chapter Twenty-one

2007-09-01T00:01:00.000-05:00

When they were leaving the motel, Jon had handed Mac a pair of the sunglasses he had bought. "You’ll need these now," he told her softly. She only snatched them from his hand and angrily put them on. He pocketed the extra pair he had gotten in case she had thrown or broken the first pair.

The ride to the airport had been tense to say the least. Richie had tried to keep a conversation going, but after a few minutes got tired of talking to himself. He had hoped to lighten the mood some so that Jon’s temper would cool enough for him to realize that Mac had every right to be angry. Sometimes that method worked, but this time Jon’s temper was too far gone. He knew that Jon was more angry at himself than he was at Mac, but Richie had no idea how to help his friend. He started hoping for one of those flashes of brilliance that Jon claimed he had. And, finally he too was just staring out the window at the passing scenery.

At the airport, their celebrity status helped immensely, and soon they were in the air. Jon and Richie were sitting side by side in the main part of the plane, but Mac had refused to sit with them once the jet had taken off. She had moved to the rear of the plane that was usually reserved for the more important crew members and card games.

"You should really try to talk to her," Richie suggested into the uncomfortable silence. The hum of the engines was all he had heard for long enough it was starting to rub on even his good humor.

Jon’s voice was sharp with anger. "That’s probably not a good idea right now."

"The longer you let her temper fester and boil, the worse it’s going to be," Richie advised.

"Fine," Jon said in exasperation, then reached out to Mac.

Mac, are you ready to talk about this yet? he asked, not even trying to sound apologetic.

Nope, she answered quickly.

They were both silent a moment but Jon didn’t want to break the link between them, and she didn’t push him out of her head. Jon refused to beg, however.

Mac was the first to break the silence. I’m too angry now, Jon. I don’t wanna say something I might regret later.

Jon took hope from that simple statement. Okay, I can live with that, he told her.

Good, then could you butt out of my damn head, and give me some privacy? she asked him, anger still in her voice.

Abruptly, Jon was gone, and she went back to her silent fuming. She had admitted to herself that more than anything she was scared. Not only of the changes that had taken place in her, but also of what would happen now. As uncomfortable as being a witch had always been to her, it was still her heritage and part of what made her, well, her. Had she lost that with the change that had made her a vampire? She hadn’t had any of her visions, but they didn’t happen with any kind of regularity either, so she couldn’t judge by that. Mac decided to try something simple. Moving over to the table used for the poker games, she got out a stack of poker chips. She laid ten chips in a pile on the edge of the table and laid one several inches from the others.

"For my simple test, would you please join the rest," she told the chip.

When the poker chip slid across the table to join the others, she smiled in relief. Maybe she still couldn’t sing along with the radio, but at least she was still herself. Underneath whatever it was that now made her a vampire, at least she still had Mac.

In the main part of the plane, Jon smirked at Richie after retreating from Mac’s mind. "She’s still not ready to talk to me," he told the guitarist, in an I-told-you-so kind of tone.

"Jon, you can’t let her keep pushing you away," Richie advised.

"She said she didn’t wanna say something in anger that she’d regret later," Jon told him. "I’m going to respect that for now."

"I’ve had one of my flashes of brilliance," Richie informed him.

"Is that so?" Jon asked dryly.

"Yeah," Richie nodded sagely, "tell her you love her. You’d be surprised how that sentiment will cool a woman’s anger."

"Maybe," Jon agreed, "but," he paused dramatically, "only if said woman believes the sentiment."

"You don’t think she’ll believe you?" Richie asked in amazement. "Why would you lie about something like that?"

"Oh, I don’t know, Rich," Jon said sarcastically, "to save my ass?"

"But, you wouldn’t be lying," Richie pointed out.

"Try telling her that," Jon replied.

"No thanks," Richie said, grinning and holding his hands up in mock surrender.

"Coward," Jon chided.

"Yep," Richie nodded, still grinning unabashedly.

The plane landed in Las Vegas and the trio made their way through security with relative ease. Once back at the hotel, Mac entered her suite and slammed the door. Finding great satisfaction at the look on Jon’s face right before the door close in it, she almost laughed. Almost. She was too angry though to give into something as frivolous as laughter. How could he do this without her permission? He knew she hadn’t wanted to be a vampire. She had made her feelings on the matter completely obvious.

Mac walked to the mirror in her bathroom. She expected to somehow look different, considering the changes in her, but strangely enough, she still looked the same. Except for the light blue eyes. She leaned forward to get a closer look. Other women might spend a small fortune on colored contacts to have this color eyes, but Mac had liked her green ones. She had considered her eyes her only good quality, and he had taken even that from her.

Angrily, she scrubbed her cheeks with her hands to wipe away tears. She refused to dissolve into sorrow. No, she wanted to hold on to her anger for a little longer. At least long enough to make him regret doing what he had done.

Briefly, a thought flashed through her mind. He had said that she would only be able to feed from him. What if she left? She was supposed to be dead now anyway. That was supposed to have been her fate, but Jon had thumbed his nose at fate and saved her so that he could live without going rogue.

Furiously, Jon had spun away from her door. Richie had decided now was a good time to disappear and left quietly, leaving his friend to pace and fume. Jon decided he was done with the pacing though, and that it was definitely time for a confrontation. He marched across his suite and jerked open the connecting door. Not finding her in the sitting room, he continued on to her bedroom, only to come to a dead stop in amazement at what she was doing.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded angrily.

"What does it look like I’m doing?" she asked. "I’m packing."

"And where in the hell do you think you’re going?"

"Home," she tossed over her shoulder as she threw some shirts into her suitcase.

"Mac," he said softly, "if you leave me, you’ll die."

"So?" she questioned, without even looking at him. "What’s your point?"

"You’ll starve, it’s quite a painful way to die," he informed her.

"I’m suppose to be dead anyway," she told him, "and by painful means. What difference does it make?"

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She hadn’t even paused in her packing to talk to him. "Mac, please listen to reason."

"You mean, your definition of reason," she said angrily, as she turned to face him, placing her hands on her hips. "I’m tired of you laying out the rules and expecting me to just blithely follow them. I’m tired of everything being your way. I’m tired of never having a say in anything. But most of all, I’m tired of you!"

"Really?" he questioned arrogantly. "You don’t mean that."

"Yes I do, Jon," she countered. "Your arrogance amazes me!"

"I won’t let you leave here, leave me, just to die a horrible death. I saved you from it once, and I’ll do it again if I have to, even if it means locking you up ‘til you’re ready to see reason."

"You didn’t do it to save me," she repeated what she had said in El Paso, "you did it to save yourself."

"That’s not true," he defended.

"Then why did you do it?"

"You wouldn’t believe me if I told you," he said, turning to leave her room. Only to freeze in his tracks when a vase full of flowers crashed into the back of his head. Furious, he spun on his heel. Mac stood with her eyes wide in shock and her hand over her mouth. "That was a mistake," he informed her angrily. He strode from the room slamming the door behind him with his mind. Using his powers he kept it and the door into the hallway closed. He wasn’t going to let her do something foolish by leaving. He heard her trying to open the door from her side, and her small fists beating on the door, screaming for him to let her out, as he stormed out of his own room.

Chapter Twenty

2007-08-24T14:06:00.000-05:00

Mac stood from the bed, dragging the sheet with her, having only just realized that Jon must have undressed her when he put her to bed the night before. He had at least left her some modesty, having left her bra and panties in place. She wrapped the sheet around her body, tucking a corner in at her breast. She stood beside the bed glaring down at Jon.

Jon reached out to Mac’s mind. Mac, I’m begging you. Don’t start this argument in front of him.

Why not? she demanded. Even the voice in her head was sharp and angry.

Because, then you’d be proving him right, and I’d never hear the end of it, he tried to joke with her to lighten the mood.

About? she asked, raising one eyebrow.

He warned me you would be pissed.

Richie stood by quietly watching the silent exchange between the two combatants. He saw the slight smile on Jon’s face that still echoed remorse. And, if he had thought Mac’s glares were glacial before coming from green eyes, they were downright bone, tissue, and blood freezing now coming from icy blue ones. Richie knew the two were talking silently to each other, probably discussing him. "I’m still here, ya know," he pointed out.

"We know," Jon and Mac announced at the same time, never taking their eyes off each other. One voice furiously low, the other almost sounding patient.

Jon winced when Mac gave him an almost evil smile. It was just a slight lifting of the corners of her lovely lips, but there was an almost maniacal glint in her eyes, when she turned to Richie. She marched across the room and snatched the Dr. Pepper from his hand. "You were right," she told the guitarist, as she stormed past him into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

Richie couldn’t help himself; he almost doubled over with laughter. "Aw, come on, Mac," he called out to her, "that wasn’t even close to a conniption."

"Shut up, Sambora," Jon ordered, heatedly. "And not one more word, or I swear, I will rip your throat out and suck you dry."

The guitarist only laughed harder as he walked over to sit on his bed, setting the styrofoam cups of coffee on the night stand between the two beds. He sat down facing Jon, but fell back on the bed laughing, holding his stomach as his guffaws shook his large frame. "Oh, Jon, this is priceless," he managed to get out between barks of laughter.

"Sambora," Jon said in a warning tone.

"I’m sorry," Richie said, laughter still booming, and not sounding contrite at all, "but damn, it’s gonna be fun watching you dig yourself outta this one."

Jon bit back his normal comeback, and said instead, "Go fuck yourself, Rich," before flopping over on his back and throwing one arm over his head. He was shocked when Mac’s angry voice sounded in his head.

Where the hell are my clothes, Bon Jovi?

They were bloodied and torn, Mac, he answered back, I threw them away.

Well, Einstein, I can’t go around in my underwear, she quipped furiously, you better come up with something.

Moglie mia, please, let’s discuss this calmly and rationally like adults, he tried to reason with her.

Don’t start that ‘my wife’ shit with me, Bon Jovi, she threw back at him, furiously, get me some damn clothes!

I wasn’t talking about the clothes situation, he stated calmly.

I’m not talking about anything else ‘til I get some damn clothes, she growled, then she was gone from his mind.

"Damn it," he grumbled aloud, as he rolled from the bed. He pulled on his jeans, then swiped his T-shirt up from the floor as he headed toward the bathroom door. Jon tried the knob when he reached the door, but it was locked. He only frowned as he opened the door with his mind and thrust the shirt through the crack. "Here, you can put this on for now. I’ll be back in a few minutes with something less revealing."

Richie watched as Jon marched back across the motel room and reached for the door knob. "Uh, Jon," Richie said.

Angrily, the singer spun around to glare at him. "What?" he demanded furiously.

Richie looked pointedly at Jon’s bare chest and feet in answer.

"Shit," Jon swore, before marching over to his bag and pulling out a fresh shirt and socks.

After he was properly clothed, Jon stormed out of the room, grabbing his baseball cap and sunglasses off the table by the door on his way out with Richie’s laughter echoing in his ears.

It never ceased to amaze Jon the variety of items you could find in a convenience store. He walked into the one across the street from the motel and pulled the bill of his baseball cap down a little farther. Toward the back of the store he found a rack of souvenir T-shirts and other clothes. He grabbed a shirt and a pair of jogging pants that looked to be about the right size. At the counter, he saw a rack of sunglasses and realized that was something else she would need when they left the motel. He laid two pair on the counter. "I’ll need these too," he told the clerk.

The clerk told him how much it would be, and Jon paid him quickly, then hurried back to the motel. He really hoped Richie had finally quit laughing, otherwise he just might kill him.

Jon walked back into the motel room and didn’t even bother to glance in Richie’s direction. At the bathroom door, he once again opened it on his own and stuck the bag of clothes through the crack. "Here," he said. His voice was curt. As welcoming as the bed looked, he decided on pacing. Pacing was good. He could expend some restless energy before they went to the airport for the flight back to Vegas.

Richie’s voice didn’t stop his pacing. "You should calm down," the guitarist advised, "try to remember you’re the one in the wrong here."

"I’m not in the wrong. I did what I had to do to save her," he said angrily, spinning on his heel to answer his friend.

Mac had just finished dressing and walked back into the room. She gasped in indignation. "You didn’t do it to save me," she responded angrily, "you did it to save yourself!"

Richie took in the clothes Jon had bought for her. He almost started laughing again, obviously Jon hadn’t bought too many women’s clothes before. Mac stood there in a pair of jogging pants that almost swallowed her whole; she had the drawstring cinched so tight that even with them tied in a bow the strings hung almost to her knees, and the ‘Don’t Mess With Texas’ T-shirt was almost too small. It was tight across her ample breasts and just barely reached the waistband of the pants. He looked pointedly at the T-shirt’s slogan. "How prophetic," he said softly, then burst into uproarious laughter, once again falling back on the bed.

Chapter Nineteen

2007-08-20T11:13:00.000-05:00

With the third blood exchange over, Jon told Richie they should try to get some sleep, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep a wink until Mac regained consciousness. He watched Richie get settled into the other bed, then laid down with Mac, cradling her gently in his arms. Jon was worried about how much pain she was dealing with while she was out of it. Rubbing his cheek against her hair, he slipped into her mind. A wave of her pain hit him immediately, but he refused to pull away from it, hoping instead to help alleviate some of it.

Moglie mia, can you hear me? he asked softly.

Even the voice in her head was weak, when she answered, It hurts, Jon.

I know, bambina, he told her gently, but listen to me closely, I’m going to tell you how to make it ease up some.

Jon didn’t tell her that she had new powers as a newly changed vampire, but he began to explain to her how to use her mind to divide the pain and explained that he would shoulder the worst of it on himself, that he could do it as long as their minds were joined.

Just don’t break the link, Dallas, he cautioned, because then you’ll be hit with the full force of it again.

Jon, don’t do this, she told him, it hurts too bad. I can’t imagine even putting part of it off on you.

I can handle it, moglie mia, Jon replied, besides, I can’t bear for you to go through this alone.

Am I dying then? she asked.

No, bambina, he told her, you are healing.

Where am I?

We are in a motel in El Paso, he answered.

Where’s Caleb?

I don’t know, he replied, wincing slightly when he took the bigger part of her pain into himself. When I left him he was injured, but I came running when you called out to me.

Mac felt her pain lessen immediately. It’s working, Jon.

Of course it is, bambina, he told her, gritting his teeth against the pain. Now rest, if you can, he ordered gently. You’ll be fine in the morning.

Holding her close, he laid there for a long time as her dreams played like movies in his head courtesy of the link. He saw all the gruesome details of the accident as she relived them in her dreams, as well as the events that had unfolded while Caleb had her. He now knew that she had intended to re-enter that warehouse and try to help him, and he smiled in spite of the pain at her courage. She was certainly one of a kind. He could see the light in her that would balance his darkness in years to come. Now, if only they could survive this latest problem. And, he didn’t try to deceive himself, there would be a problem over this latest turn of events, but he knew in his heart that somehow they would get past it. That she would forgive him. At least, he hoped she’d forgive him.

Shouldering the biggest part of her pain for several hours, Jon lay there unable to sleep. When the sun finally rose, the pain was gone, and he knew that she was entirely healed and the change was complete. He dozed off to sleep then, knowing he would need a few hours of sleep to be able to deal with the explosion of Mac’s temper that was surely coming.

Richie’s concerned voice woke him a couple of hours later. "How’s she doing?"

Jon barely cracked his eyes in acknowledgment of Richie’s question. "She’s fine."

"Glad to hear it," Richie told him. "I was heading out for coffee. I’ll be back in a few."

"Could you get her a Dr. Pepper?" Jon asked.

"Sure," Richie answered, as the door closed behind him. The guitarist really didn’t want to be anywhere around when Mac woke up and realized what Jon had done.

When Richie was gone, Jon pulled Mac tighter against him. "Mac, wake up tesoro mia."

Jon watched as groggily she rubbed at her eyes and stretched. Raising up on one elbow, he bent slightly to gently kiss her forehead, "How’re you feeling?" he asked huskily.

"Surprisingly, I feel great," she answered, opening her eyes. "You’d never know I got hit by a car last night."

Jon looked down into her light blue eyes, so like his own and realized he would miss those turbulent green eyes. That was something he hadn’t thought about before he made the quick decision to change her.

"What is it, Jon?" she asked, when she noticed the sadness in his eyes.

"Nothing of importance," he answered her.

She accepted that answer for now, but later she would find out what was bothering him. "I really expected to either be dead or wake up in a hospital this morning," she told him.

"Richie suggested a hospital," he replied, "but I knew we didn’t have time to get you to one."

Her stomach twisted in response to that statement. She had a sinking feeling that she knew exactly what he meant by that, but she had to ask anyway. "Jon, what do you mean by ‘didn’t have time’?"

"When our minds were linked, I could feel your spirit and energy drifting away," he answered.

"Are you saying that I was dying?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"Yeah," he replied softly.

"What did you do, Jon?" she questioned, although she was afraid she already knew the answer.

Jon looked into her eyes and saw the knowledge there. "You know what I did," he answered softly.

"No," she said harshly, "you knew I didn’t want to be a vampire."

Richie walked back into the room with coffee cups in hand, and a cold Dr. Pepper from the soda machine. The room was charged with tension and he almost turned back around and left again.

"I brought caffeine," he announced. Then after seeing the regret on his friend’s face and the fury on Mac’s, he asked, "So, is it conniption time, now?"

Chapter Eighteen

2007-08-15T21:50:00.000-05:00

Jon found Richie gently holding Mac’s head in his lap. He didn’t realize that silent tears ran down his face when he took her from his friend. Jon sat on his knees on the sidewalk with Mac’s upper body held gently in his arms, rocking her like a baby.

"I’m here, Mac," he whispered to her, as he pushed her hair back out of her face. "Heal yourself so we can get outta here."

Her eyelids fluttered open. "I can’t," she gasped, trying hard not to whimper in pain. "It’s too bad."

"You said you could heal yourself," Jon pointed out tearfully, "so do it damn it."

"Minor wounds, Jon," she reminded him, "these are anything but minor."

Jon didn’t like how raspy and shaky her voice sounded. He hated seeing his Mac broken and ready to give up.

"Don’t you dare leave me," he ordered.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, as she lost her battle with the darkness and drifted peacefully into unconsciousness.

"Mac," Jon said loudly, but she didn’t respond.

"Jon," Richie tried to be the voice of reason, even though he was feeling anything but reasonable, "we need to get help. Get her a doctor."

"There’s no time, Rich," Jon said, his voice dripping with pain. "She wouldn’t make it to a hospital. She reached out to me, she was so weak she couldn’t maintain the link."

"We’ve gotta at least try," Richie argued.

"Mac," Jon tried again, "moglie mia, please open your eyes again. I have to talk to you." He wanted her permission for what he was about to do, but whether he got it or not, he had to do it. "I won’t lose her. I refuse to let her go like this."

"What are you going to do?" Richie asked.

"Keep an eye out and warn me if anyone comes," Jon told him, as his fangs lengthened. He quickly rolled up the sleeve of his shirt. So upset about the possibility of losing her, Jon didn’t even feel the pain as his fangs sank into the tender skin of his wrist, puncturing the vein there. Tenderly, he put his wrist to her mouth. "Drink, tesoro mia. Please," he whispered in her ear, and then reached out to her mind repeating the request in her head, hoping that one way or the other she would hear him. Gently, he stroked her throat, encouraging her to swallow.

When he thought she had swallowed enough, he pulled his wrist from her mouth. A ragged piece of Richie’s T-shirt was thrust in his face.

"Here, tie it around your wrist," Richie offered.

Quickly, Jon tied off the make shift bandage and bent his head to Mac’s neck. He knew she couldn’t afford to lose anymore blood, but he had to take some. Three blood exchanges were necessary to change her, so that he wouldn’t lose her. Jon only sipped for a few seconds before lifting his golden head. "We gotta get her back to the motel," he announced to Richie.

"I’ll be right back," Richie assured him. Then promptly disappeared.

Jon sat holding her in his arms, hoping he hadn’t been too late, that she hadn’t been too far gone. Silently, he prayed he had done the right thing and that she wouldn’t be too angry over his decision, but he couldn’t just sit by and let her die in his arms.

When a small red four door car pulled up at the curb and Richie jumped out, Jon didn’t even question his friend about how he’d gotten them a car. He just gently picked her up and sat down in the back seat with her in his lap, and Richie closed the door he’d been holding open.

Richie was silent all the way back to the motel, but Jon continually whispered encouragement and endearments to Mac until they were pulling up in front of the place they had chosen when they first arrived in town. Jon had chosen the roadside motel for the ability to come and go from their room from the parking lot; the inconspicuous aspect of the place had appealed to him and the situation they were in; it certainly had nothing to do with the accommodations. It was nothing fancy, but then he and Richie had stayed in far worse back in the early days of the band.

Richie helped Jon get Mac settled into one of the room’s queen size beds, before announcing, "Okay, I gotta get the car back, but I’ll get a taxi back here. Will you two be okay until I get back?"

"I hope so," Jon replied, gravely.

"Jon," Richie began, "you did do what I think you did, didn’t you?"

"Do you think you could be a little more confusing?" Jon asked grinning.

"You changed her, didn’t you?" the guitarist accused.

"Not yet," Jon answered, "but I got the process started. It’ll take two more blood exchanges before the turn will be complete."

"But, Jon," Richie frowned, "she didn’t want to be a vampire."

"I will not lose her," Jon said, harshly.

Richie shrugged; he knew when not to argue with his friend, but somehow he knew there were going to be problems over this. "I’ll be back in a bit," he told Jon, as he left.

Jon paced the small room, continually looking at Mac lying deathly still in the bed. All he knew about a change was that it required three blood exchanges and that there was a lot of pain involved for the vampire-to-be. But, with as much pain as Mac had to already be in, he didn’t think she’d even notice, and at least this way with the change taking place her body would be able to heal itself.

Richie had been gone for over an hour when Jon removed the bandage on his wrist and reopened the wounds with his fangs. Once again, he encouraged an unconscious Mac to drink, then sipped from her jugular. He took it as a good sign that his previous bite had already healed itself, and she didn’t seem quite as pale as she had when they had arrived at the motel.
Jon had just gotten up from Mac’s bedside when there was a soft knock at the door, and Richie’s scent drifted to him. Without even stopping his pacing, he opened the door with his mind.

"How’s she doing?" Richie asked immediately.

"I think she’s doing better, but she still hasn’t woke up," Jon replied. He stopped pacing and ran his fingers through his already windblown hair.

"I’m not too sure this was a good idea, Kidd," Richie told him.

"Don’t you think I’m aware there will be hell to pay over this?" Jon asked, frustration in every word. "I know she’s going to be upset," he added softly.

"Oh," Richie paused, "I think upset is quite an understatement. I’m sure the phrase ‘conniption fit’ will apply."

"I’m sure," Jon replied.

"What happened with Caleb?" Richie finally asked the question he was dying for an answer to.

"I don’t know," Jon answered.

"What do you mean, you don’t know?"

"I hit him with a desk, then Mac called out to me," Jon told him, "I ran out to her. I’m sure he got away. He’s injured, but like me, he’ll heal quickly."

"He’ll be back then," Richie replied, nodding.

"If he’s that stupid, I’ll be waiting on him," Jon said menacingly.

After glancing at his watch, Jon walked over to sit next to Mac on the bed. Richie watched as his friend once again gave Mac blood and then drank from her neck. Every one of Jon’s actions dripped tenderness and love. The guitarist only hoped that Mac would realize how much Jon cared about her before she blew her top.

Chapter Seventeen

2007-08-11T18:14:00.000-05:00

After discovering the diner wasn’t the saloon from 130 years ago, Jon and Richie had been walking down the sidewalk, while Jon talked to Mac. Jon hadn’t been paying much attention to where he was going, and more than once, Richie had had to steer him around passing pedestrians. Jon suddenly stopped, having gotten the warning of a vampire in the immediate vicinity.

"Caleb’s in there," he told Richie, pointing at the warehouse in question.

The two of them quickly found a way inside.

"Rich," Jon said, laying a hand on his friend’s shoulder when Richie started in the door, "wait out here."

"I will not let you go in there to fight him alone," Richie argued.

"I can’t fight him and worry about you and Mac," Jon explained. "Wait here. I’ll send Mac out to you. Get her to safety, please. I’ll deal with Caleb."

"Okay," Richie answered, resigned. Every fiber in his being objected to allowing his friend to walk into danger alone and unaided, but he knew in his head that Jon was right.

"Just stay out of sight until you see Mac," Jon cautioned, as he entered the darkness of the warehouse.

At first, silence was all that greeted him, but then he heard Caleb and Mac arguing. He hurried toward the sound with every ounce of speed his powers gave him. He wasn’t sure why Caleb hadn’t felt the same warning he had felt, when the other vamp turned toward him with a comical look of surprise on his face, but at this moment he couldn’t bring himself to care.

"You bitch," Caleb turned to scream at Mac, "you distracted me and I didn’t even feel the warning that he was close."

"That’s witch, not bitch," Mac corrected snidely.

Caleb drew back his arm to strike her, but before he could land the blow, Jon flew across the room and punched the other vamp. Caleb fell backwards onto cardboard boxes that collapsed under his weight.

Without turning his back on his adversary, Jon used his mind to untie Mac. As soon as she was free, she flung herself into his arms. Keeping one eye on Caleb, Jon looked down at Mac’s face. His thumb brushed her bottom lip, wiping away the small trickle of blood from the cut.

"I’m glad you’re here," Mac told him softly, her gaze never leaving his face as he slipped his thumb into his mouth to taste her blood.

He pulled her tightly to him. Sighing softly in pleasure as her soft curves molded themselves to the hard planes of his body. Jon kissed her lightly on her forehead, before saying softly, "Go outside, Mac. Richie’s waiting to take you away from here." Gently, he pushed her behind him and toward the door, immediately regretting the action that took her from his arms.

"I won’t leave you," she told him, her chin tilting in defiance, even though he was no longer able to see her. His gaze was still firmly resting on the vampire that was even now rising from the floor.

"Please go, Mac," he said over his shoulder. "I need to know that you’re safe."

Mac hurried away from the coming storm. Her intention was to get Richie and return to help Jon any way she could. She knew she could stay out of the way and at least attempt to weave spells that would help Jon.

"She’s gone," Caleb said unnecessarily as he stood facing Jon. "I wasn’t going to hurt her, ya know."

"So you say now," Jon told him angrily.

"I’m not a heartless bastard, Giovanni," Caleb defended, "I know she’s innocent in this. But you, that’s entirely different. How could you do it? How could you stake Toby? We trusted you; he trusted you. You were our only true friend. The only one that accepted how we felt about each other."

"But you weren’t his life-mate Caleb," Jon said softly, as the two began to circle each other. "You weren’t the other half of his soul, the light to his darkness." Jon sidestepped the chair Mac had been tied to. "And that’s what he needed. He’d gone rogue, Caleb. The bloodlust had taken over. Toby was killing innocents. He sacrificed his soul for the power of taking lives."

"No," Caleb screamed in denial. "I would’ve known if...", he paused and Jon could see the doubt that clouded his face, before he lunged toward Jon. Caleb’s fingers curled into claws as he dove for Jon’s throat.

Jon waited until Caleb was almost on him, his weight balanced on the balls of his feet. Just as the other vampire’s fingers reached his neck, he grabbed Caleb’s wrists and shifted his weight, tossing the other vamp over his shoulder to land with a dull thud. Jon used the time it took Caleb to recover from the fall to pull a long, wicked looking knife from the scabbard attached to his ankle.

When Caleb finally regained his feet, Jon lunged for him. Caleb threw himself backward to avoid the sharp blade, but gained a deep slash across his abdomen for his efforts.

"I don’t want to have to kill you, Caleb," Jon said softly. He kept his eyes on the other vamp warily, even as he circled for another attack. "I understand why you took Mac, I can forgive that since no real harm was done. Her wounds are probably already healed, that’s one of her powers."

Caleb had circled around to the chair. Quickly, he picked it up and swung it furiously at Jon’s head. At the last second, Jon ducked, but the legs of the chair struck his shoulder hard enough to send the pieces of the chair scattering across the floor and knocking the knife from his hand. He heard it skitter across the room, as he fell against the only remaining piece of furniture in the room, a battered old desk.

Angrily, Jon shoved himself away from the desk, lightening seeming to flash in his eyes. His roar, the accompanying clap of thunder, as he flung the desk across the room with the force of his mind. It slammed into Caleb, throwing the vampire into the wall behind him. The force with which he hit the wall breaking ribs and forcing the breath from his lungs.

********************

It had taken Mac longer than she wanted to find the way out of the warehouse, but once she ran out the door, Richie stepped out of the shadows across the street and called out to her. Thinking only of getting Richie to go back into the warehouse, she started across the street. Richie’s scream of warning was drowned out by the screeching of tires.

Richie watched in horror as Mac struck the hood of the car, rolling up over the windshield before hitting the pavement with a sickening thud as the car sped off into the night. Mac landed partially on the curb at Richie’s feet; her mangled legs still laying in the street.

Kneeling beside her, Richie pulled her into his lap. "Mac," he said worriedly, "Mac, can you hear me?"

Mac heard him through a cloud of pain, but his voice wasn’t the one she wanted to hear. Knowing she couldn’t hold on much longer, she reached out to the one person she needed. Jon?

Jon froze when Mac’s voice rang in his head. She was weak and in a lot of pain; he knew something was terribly wrong. Moglie mia, what’s happened?

I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye, she whispered weakly, before the link between them was broken.

This time, Jon roared in pain. Leaving Caleb behind, he ran out of the building to find Mac. He reached out to her as he ran, but all he could feel was her pain. Jon realized he was losing her; he could feel her energy drifting away. Hold on, tesoro mia, I’m coming, he told her, not even sure she heard him.

Chapter Sixteen

2007-08-11T16:24:00.000-05:00

"Oh come on," Richie groaned, "doesn’t anything look familiar?"

They had been walking around downtown El Paso for the last two hours. Jon had explained to Richie that 130 years ago the town was a lot smaller, but it was nestled along the banks of the Rio Grande. The town had grown a lot through the years, but only in three directions. The river dividing the United States from neighboring Mexico had cut off the expansion of the town in that direction. The historic portion of the town that lay along the river was where the two men were searching. Jon was trying to find the exact location he had staked Toby, knowing that was where he would find Caleb and Mac. But, the town had changed a lot in the last 130 years; the only landmark that remained that Jon recognized was the Rio Grande.

Jon pointed at the river in question. "Yeah, that looks familiar. A hell of a lot dirtier, but it’s in the same place." He watched as the guitarist kicked at a pile of sand with his expensive, yet terribly worn, boot. "I don’t know, that sand looks really familiar," he added with a dose of sarcasm.

"Only because we’ve been walking around in it for two hours," Richie quipped. "We could use some help."

"And just who do you suppose we could call?" Jon asked sarcastically. "The police? Oh yeah, I can hear that conversation in my head now." He held his hand with just his thumb and pinky extended, and held it to his face like it was a phone. "Yeah, officer, this demented vampire kidnapped my life-mate and is using her for bait so that I’ll come after her and he can stake me. Yes, officer, I’m a vampire too." He took his hand down from his face and glared at Richie. "How well do you think that’s gonna go over?"

"Fuck you, Kidd," Richie answered, heatedly.

"What’s that you always say? Oh, yeah, you keep asking, and I keep having to tell ya no," Jon responded laughing, glad he could finally turn the tables on his friend.

"All right, smart ass. Let’s start at the beginning, one more time," Richie suggested. "Maybe, we’ll find a clue in what happened 130 years ago."

"I tracked Toby to El Paso. Billy saw me ride into town and followed me in a saloon. We talked for a while, and he asked me what I was doing in El Paso. I told him that I was looking for an old friend and described Toby to him. Billy told me that Toby had been hanging out at the saloon across the street and warned me to be careful that a wild animal had been lurking around town and had attacked and killed a few men and one of the saloon girls. That the wolf or whatever had ripped out their throats. I knew it was Toby but didn’t tell Billy that. He never knew what I was." The two men continued walking as Jon spoke softly to Richie. "I found Toby right where Billy said he’d be. I didn’t pull any punches. I told him why I was there, and we went out the back door of the saloon to fight it out. He didn’t act in any way like he was afraid of me. In fact, he acted resigned to the fact that I was there to kill him. Almost like he welcomed it. He didn’t put up much of a fight. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Rich. Toby was my friend."

"How far away from the saloon were you when the fight started?" Richie asked.

"Several yards," Jon answered, "we left the circle of light the lantern by the back door created. And didn’t want any humans to walk up on our fight. I staked him, but didn’t leave his body there. I took him off into the desert and burned his body."

"And you’re sure that Caleb wouldn’t be where you burned Toby?"

"Nobody but me could’ve ever known where that was," Jon answered. "But Caleb could’ve easily found out that I left that saloon with Toby."

"Then we aren’t looking for where you staked Toby," Richie replied, grinning because he’d figured it all out. "We’re just looking for the saloon."

Jon held his arms out with his palms up. "Look around you, Rich. Do you see any damn saloons?" he asked sarcastically.

Looking around at the industrial area they stood in, Richie didn’t see anything but a bunch of warehouses and a little greasy spoon diner. He jerked his head toward the diner. "Do you suppose?"

"No," Jon answered. "Wrong side of the street."

They continued walking toward the diner though. Then Jon’s face lit up. "But that might be where Billy found me that night."

********************

Still gagged and with hands tied behind her back and to a chair, Mac sat in a warehouse somewhere in El Paso, watching Caleb pace the floor. Every few minutes he would stop and stare at her. It was a look that she couldn’t quite define, but it most certainly wasn’t anger or hatred.

Finally, he stopped long enough to speak to her. "I don’t wanna hurt ya," he told her calmly. "I only want Giovanni ta pay fer what he did."

Mac raised one eyebrow in a perfect imitation of Jon’s affectation and practically growled at him through the gag. She began to pull at the ropes, slamming her back against the chair repeatedly. The chair bounced loudly on the floor.

"Stop that!" he yelled. "I meant it. I ain’t gonna kill ya. You’ll walk outta here fine as rain when he gets here."

She continued her efforts to get free, until Caleb stomped across the floor and slapped her across the face. Hard. Mac felt the skin of her bottom lip break and tasted blood but couldn’t spit it out because of the gag. She slumped in the chair, but she glared at him above the gag. Her eyes were glacial.

Caleb continued talking, as if his violent outburst never happened. "Although, I should. Giovanni kilt the love of my life. I should let ‘im watch you die before I stake ‘im." At Mac’s continued silence and cold glare, he continued, "but I know you’re innocent in all of this. Hell, ya weren’t even born yet when he committed his crime."

Mac felt Jon join her in her mind. Mac, he said softly, are you okay?

Now’s not a good time, rock star, she told him.

Caleb walked over to her and bent down to look in her eyes, taking her chin in a tight grip he turned her head from side to side. "You’re a purty one. Giovanni’ll come for ya."

Now’s a perfect time, Dallas, Jon’s voice echoed through her mind. Where are you, moglie mia?

I’m not sure I want to tell you that, she answered. He’s waiting on you, Jon.

I know that, Mac, he replied quickly, and so are you.

Caleb slapped her again. "Pay attention when I’m talking to you, girl!" he yelled.

Jon felt Mac’s pain immediately, and she heard his angry roar in her head. Did he hit you? he raged.

Trying to calm him, she answered, No, I’m fine.

Don’t lie to me, Mac, Jon ordered angrily.

"Nod your head, girl," Caleb growled. "Do ya promise not ta scream if I take the gag off?"

Mac nodded her head.

What are you telling him yes to? Jon asked her.

I promised I wouldn’t scream if he took the gag off, Mac answered.

You better scream your head off, Mac.

I will not! she told him adamantly. But I am going to start rhyming shit on his ass! I’ve been savin’ shit up.

Mac, NO, Jon commanded.

But, Mac didn’t listen. As soon as the gag was removed, she chanted, "Every time you hurt me, you will feel my pain times three."

Jon stood by helplessly, knowing she would only be provoking Caleb.

"What’d ya say girl?" Caleb asked.

"Doesn’t matter if ya heard me or not," she answered frostily. "I said it out loud, that’s all that matters."

"Tell me," he demanded, furiously.

"NO!" she yelled back at him.

He slapped her again, and Mac almost laughed at the comical look of surprise that he gave her as he grabbed the side of his face. "OW," he yelled. "What’d ya do to me, girl?"

Mac’s frosty glare was his only answer.

Do you know what you’ve done? Jon asked her, his tone sharp.

Before she could answer him, Caleb back handed her hard enough the chair tipped backwards. She ignored Jon’s corresponding furious roar in her head as the chair tilted dangerously before she leaned forward, pulling against the ropes to keep from falling on the floor. She sighed in relief when all four legs were resting squarely on the floor. Then she looked up at Caleb standing glaring down at her, holding his face in obvious pain. "That’s what ya get, ya bully," she told him, coldly. "Ya ever hear the phrase, this is gonna hurt me more than it hurts you?" she asked, grinning. "In your case it would certainly apply."

"What’d ya do?" he asked.

"You shouldn’t have messed with a tenth generation witch," she told him, holding her head proudly.

"A witch?" he asked, incredulous.

"That’s what I said," she answered.

Shut up, Mac, Jon ordered. Don’t give him any more information.

Don’t you dare tell me to ‘shut up’, she replied furiously.

Mac, please don’t provoke him, Jon pleaded. It kills me when he hurts you and I can’t do anything about it.

I bet he’ll think twice before he hits me again, she told him smugly.

Where are you, tesoro mia? he asked again.

In what looks like an old warehouse, she answered, but I don’t know how we got here. He didn’t take the blindfold off ‘til we were inside.

"Why’re ya ignorin’ me?" Caleb demanded.

"I’m not ignoring you," she told him. Geez, how was she supposed to carry on a conversation with both of them?

I heard that, Jon answered huskily. I miss you, Mac. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Reach out, if you need me.

I will, Jon, she told him softly. And, I miss you too.

Mac felt him go and suddenly felt unexplainably bereft.

"I told ya to uncast that spell," Caleb ordered.

"I will not," Mac replied, with a defiant tilt to her chin. "Besides, how’re you gonna make me?"

"Why, I oughta..." he growled, stomping toward her with his fist raised.

"Uh uh uh," she interrupted grinning. "I wouldn’t if I were you, unless of course you wanna hurt way worse than me."

Caleb only glared at her for several seconds, then he finally said, "Giovanni can’t get here quick ‘nough to suit me."

"Careful what you wish for, Caleb," a softly furious voice said from the doorway.

Chapter Fifteen

2007-08-07T14:45:00.000-05:00

Jon had walked for a while. He had intended to leave the strip. It always amazed him how you didn’t have to go far from the lights of the casinos on the strip to find yourself surrounded by nothing but desert. The desert, in his mind, was a perfectly private place to end this. He didn’t make it though before his cell phone started ringing in his pocket. He glanced at the little window and flipped it open.

"Now’s not a good time, Rich," he said into the phone.

"It’s the best fucking time in the world, Jon, trust me," Richie told him anxiously. "There was a vampire named Caleb here, and he left with Mac."

"Fuck!" Jon exclaimed, then after a brief pause, "I’ll be right there, Rich."

Angrily, Jon flipped his cell phone closed. What the fuck had he been thinking to go off and leave her alone and vulnerable? Caleb was going to pay for this. Jon hurried back the way he had come. The sun was setting, but it wasn’t dark enough yet for him to fly back to the hotel. As bad as he wanted to get back there and find out what happened, he wasn’t willing to risk someone seeing a man flying above the Las Vegas strip.

When he arrived back at the hotel, Richie was waiting for him in his room. Richie quickly told him what had happened, ending with, "And you shoulda seen her Jon when he tried to use mind control on her. She knew what he was doing and told him ‘it didn’t work for Jon and it won’t work for you, so go fuck yourself’."

"How did he get her to go with him quietly?" Jon asked.

"That’s my fault," Richie said, guiltily, "he told her if she didn’t, he’d kill me. Jon, I tried to stop him, but..."

Jon interrupted him, "There wasn’t anything you could do, Rich. A vampire is ten times stronger than a human. You’re lucky he didn’t kill you."

"Still, I feel like I let ya down, bro," Richie told him.

"You were the message," Jon replied, softly, "so what did he say? Where did he take her?"

"When I asked him, all he said was ‘Toby’. He said you’d know what that meant."

"Yeah, I know," Jon answered. "Fuck," he said loudly, before he put his fist through the wall he’d been standing next to. Jon stormed into his bedroom and began to throw things in a bag.

Richie followed him. "What does it mean, Jon?"

"It means, I’m going to El Paso," Jon answered.

"Holy shit," Richie breathed, "Toby is the vampire you killed there over a hundred years ago, right?"

"Yeah," the singer replied.

"Damn, you vampires sure hold a grudge a long time," Richie told him. "I guess Caleb was a friend of Toby’s."

"They were more than friends," Jon informed him, "they were lovers."

"Whoa," Richie said in surprise, "that would mean....," he left the sentence dangling in mid-air.

"Yeah, they were gay," Jon told him, dryly, as he zipped up the bag. "That’s why I’m so damn concerned about what he’ll do to Mac. I killed his lover...," Jon couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought out loud.

"I’m sure he’s not going to hurt her," Richie tried to reassure him. "I mean, hell, if he was going to do that, he coulda just done it here."

"But then he might not’ve been able to get me," Jon replied, "this way, she’s the bait to get me where he wants me, and then once he stakes me, he’ll kill her."

"Jon, you can’t just walk into a situation, knowing it’s a trap," Richie told him.

"That’s why I have the upper hand. I know it’s a trap," Jon explained, as he grabbed the bag and walked back into the sitting room. He angrily threw himself down on the sofa. "Be quiet a few minutes," he ordered.

Jon leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. Silently, he reached out to Mac. Once he was in her head, he could feel the fear that she couldn’t hide from him. It was almost his undoing. It’s why he had put off linking up with her like this, because he knew what her fear would do to him.

Moglie mia, are you all right?

Yeah, she answered weakly.

Jon could tell she was trying to hide her fear from him. Where are you, tesoro mia?

I don’t know, Jon, she told him, I’m blindfolded, but I think I’m in the backseat of a car. My hands are tied, and he gagged me. She gave him a little laugh. I guess that’s what I get for threatening to scream my head off.

And perhaps, telling him to go fuck himself wasn’t any help, he told her, smiling.

You’re probably right, she answered.

I’m so proud of the way you stood up to him, Jon said. Don’t worry, Mac, I’m coming to get you.

Do you know where he’s taking me? she asked him.

Yeah, ragazza mia, I know. He’s had a grudge against me for a long time and it all started in El Paso. That’s where he’s taking you.

You’re sure? she asked him, He told Richie ‘Toby’. What does that mean?

Toby was a vamp I staked, and the reason Caleb hates me so much, he informed her. He didn’t want to tell her about the relationship between the two vampires and make her fear any worse. Lord knew, his was bad enough for both of them.

Knowing that with their minds linked she wasn’t hiding anything from him, she finally admitted, I’m scared, Jon.

I know, Bambina, he said huskily, but know this, I won’t rest until you’re back in my arms. I will come for you.

That’s what he’s counting on, Jon, she said, her fear suddenly stronger, don’t walk into a trap for me.

I can’t do anything less, Bambina, he told her. He withdrew from her mind then, before she could try to dissuade him.

He sat there for several minutes with his eyes closed. Jon was grateful for Richie’s continued silence, while he worked everything out in his head. Jon realized for the first time that he loved Mac. He wasn’t sure how she had taken control of his heart so quickly, but he wasn’t going to question it anymore. The thought of anything happening to her hurt him so badly, it was almost a physical ache. He knew it wasn’t just the knowledge that if anything happened to her he might as well let Kristoff use the stake now rather than later, once he’d gone insane with bloodlust. He knew he’d want to be staked rather than go on without her in his life.

How had this happened? Better yet, when had this happened? He wanted to tell her, but what if she didn’t feel the same way? Could he live with that? Could he live with the fact that she didn’t want to be a vampire? So many questions. No answers.

He opened his eyes, and realized Richie had left. That was odd. His friend usually had his back in every situation, even if it was just metaphorically. Where had Richie gone?

Slowly, Jon stood up and picked up his bag, heading for the door with grim determination. He would go to El Paso, kill Caleb, and bring back his life mate. He’d work out the answers for those questions later.

He opened the door, and was not as surprised as he should’ve been. Richie stood there with bag in hand.

"Where do you think you’re going?" he asked the guitarist.

"I’m going with you," Richie informed him. "You might need my occasional flashes of brilliance."

********************

A car was waiting on the street to take Jon and Richie to the airport. There was a minor delay while the pilot filed a flight plan, but soon they were in the air. Richie had been watching Jon for several minutes as he sat in silence staring out the window. The look in his friends eyes could only be described as cold fury, but really it went beyond that. Even a wordsmith of Richie’s caliber couldn’t find the words to accurately depict the emotion exactly, but the guitarist certainly didn’t want to be in Caleb’s shoes when Jon finally got his hands on him. The ironic thing was Jon seemed calm. Too calm.

Richie knew that Jon was like that often mentioned perfect calm that came before the storm. When the air was so still that not even a blade of grass twitched. It’s when the feeling of approaching doom is so heavy in the atmosphere that the hair on the back of your neck and on your arms stands up at perfect attention. When it’s so silent, that the first crack of thunder and flash of lightening makes you jump out of your skin, even though you knew it was coming. The guitarist was sure that he would jump when the lightening finally struck.

"She’ll be fine, ya know," he tried to reassure Jon.

"Of course she will. I won’t accept anything less," Jon answered, his gaze never wavering from the window.

"Maybe you should talk to her again, give her some reassurance," Richie suggested.

"I don’t know, Rich," Jon replied, finally looking at his friend, "I can feel her fear when I link up with her. It’s just too much; it makes me want to kill someone."

"Have you told her yet?"

"Told her what?" Jon asked, puzzled.

"That you love her," Richie answered, grinning.

"No."

"You should," the guitarist told him.

"Rich, I’m not in the mood to deal with your wise jackass persona," Jon told him, smiling to lessen the blow.

"But I thought of all my multiple personalities that one was your favorite?"

"I’ll plea the fifth," Jon grinned.

Richie thought his friend had been about to laugh. That’s what he’d been aiming for, hoping to lighten the mood a little. As a mere human, he didn’t think he’d be much help to Jon in the coming confrontation, but he had hoped to at least keep Jon from getting all dark and depressed.

Jon interrupted his thoughts, "I guess...maybe...you’re right. I should check on her."

Richie grabbed his chest in mock surprise. "Did ya hear that, Elizabeth? I think it’s the big one. I’m coming to join ya, honey," Richie laughed.

"Don’t let it go to your head," Jon joked, before closing his eyes and leaning back in the seat.

He reached out for Mac. How are you holdin’ up, Bambina? he asked her.

Oh, I’m just peachy, she answered with a healthy dose of sarcasm.

Jon had expected fear, not this emotion that was bordering on anger. I’m on my way, tesoro mia. Please don’t be angry.

I can’t help it, Jon, she replied, this guy’s startin’ to really piss me off.

I was afraid you were angry at me, he told her.

Now why would I be angry at you? she asked.

This is all my fault, he answered.

Oh, so you’re the one that drug me outta my hotel room, tied me up, gagged me and blindfolded me, and is now takin’ me God-only-knows-where in a fuckin’ helicopter?

I told you where he’s taking you, Mac, he reminded her.

Yeah, well, what if you’re wrong? she asked.

I’m not, he answered. Are you okay, ragazza mia? Has he hurt you?

Only my pride, she replied, but let me tell you one thing, if this son-of-a-bitch ever takes this blindfold and gag off, I’m fixin’ to start rhyming shit on his ass. He won’t know what hit him.

Jon panicked, afraid that if she provoked Caleb, he would seriously hurt her. Bambina, I beg you, don’t do something that will make him angry enough to hurt you.

Jon, if you think I’m gonna just sit on my hands and wait for you to rescue me, you’re sadly mistaken, she informed him.

Jon knew it was useless to argue with her. You said you were in a helicopter?

Well, it’s not like I can see it, but it sounds like a helicopter, she answered. Can’t you hear it?

No, moglie mia, I can’t. I can only feel what you feel and hear what you think, he told her.

What good is this link, then? she asked.

He didn’t know how to answer her. Right now, it might not seem like much, but it’s all they had.

I heard that, she answered softly.

I don’t know about you, but I’m happy just to hear your voice and know that you’re okay, he told her. And, isn’t it reassuring to know that I’m on my way to you?

I would know that without the link, Jon, she told him.

He was happy that she had that much faith in him.

Of course, I have faith in you, she told him, besides I know that you know I’d kick your ass if you didn’t come get me.

He laughed out loud. Bambina, stay safe. I’ll see you soon.

Don’t go yet, Jon, she pleaded. Finally, he felt her fear.

Bambina, I’m not going anywhere, he told her. All you have to do is reach out, and I’ll be there.

Promise?

I promise, tesoro mia, he answered. Just reach out for me, if you need me.

Okay, she replied, you can go now, then. If you answer one question for me.

Anything, Mac.

What does moglie mia mean? she asked.

Once again, Jon laughed out loud. It means, my wife, he told her. Leave it to you to ask about that now, when I can’t not give you the answer.

Yeah, she answered sheepishly, I figured ya’d answer now.

Reach out for me, Mac, he told her before he withdrew from her mind.

"It’s nice to hear you laughing," Richie told him.

"She’s such a spit fire," Jon replied. "Mac’s promising that she’s gonna ‘bewitch’ Caleb, if he ever takes of the blindfold and gag."

"Somehow, I bet that’s not how she put it," Richie laughed.

"Actually, no," Jon said, beaming with pride, "what she actually said was that she was going to start ‘rhyming shit on his ass’."

"I hope not. She really shouldn’t provoke him," the guitarist replied.

"That’s what I told her." Jon shook his head. "But, she refuses to just ‘sit on her hands and wait on me to rescue her’."

"Is that a direct quote?" Richie asked.

"Yeah, didn’t it sound like one?"

"It most certainly sounded like Mac," Richie answered. "Do you have a plan?"

"The beginning of one," Jon replied, and began to tell the guitarist all about it.

Chapter Fourteen

2007-08-02T21:56:00.000-05:00

The two-night, sold out shows in San Francisco went well. The crowds for both shows were excited and really into it, but Jon had felt the other vampire’s presence strongly, not only at the venue, but at the hotel as well. Jon realized the other vampire was stalking him and just wished he would go ahead and make his move already.

The American leg of the tour was almost over. They were supposed to do another two-night gig in Los Angeles and then a final show in Las Vegas, then have a month off before the European leg began. The morning after the final show in San Francisco, Jon received a phone call from the LA promoter. There had been a malfunction with the sprinkler system at the venue. So, unless the guys wanted to perform standing knee deep in water, the shows were going to have to be cancelled and rescheduled. Jon told the promoter he understood and to reschedule with the record label. He didn’t like cancelling a show and disappointing the fans, but there wasn’t anything else that could be done. Jon informed the other band members and the pilot that they would be flying on to Vegas.

Something told him that it wasn’t just a malfunction with the sprinkler system. His gut told him someone had sabotaged the thing, and he was pretty sure he knew who. The other vamp wanted Jon in Vegas. Never one to back down from a challenge, Jon was ready to meet the predator and get this over with.

When the jet landed in Vegas, Jon was the first to step off the plane. That familiar warning passed through him. "Bring it on, Asshole," he said softly, menacingly, right before his band mates and Mac joined him on the tarmac.

Once they were checked in at the hotel, Jon quietly left his suite wearing a baseball cap and his sunglasses for what little bit of anonymity they offered. In the lobby, he was hit with the warning again. Good. Let the vampire follow him, he wanted to get on with it. Jon left the hotel without his bodyguard. The guy was really just for show anyway, to keep fans at bay. As a vampire, it wasn’t like Jon actually needed the guy for protection. Besides, this was personal.
Unfortunately, the other vampire didn’t see Jon. He had felt the same warning, but had been getting on the elevator when Jon was stepping out of the other one. Jon left the hotel unaware that the other vamp wasn’t following, and just assumed he was staying far enough away to avoid the warning being received.

********************

Upstairs, in her suite, Mac was getting settled into the new place. Jon had left the door open between their suites. She heard the knock on the door to his room and wasn’t going to answer, but she heard Richie call out.

Opening the door, she told the guitarist, "Hey Rich, Jon’s not here."

"Oh, went out for a meal, did he?" Richie asked.

"Probably, but he didn’t say where he was goin’," she answered. "Come on in. I’m sure he won’t be gone long."

Richie walked in, intending to wait for his friend. "Yeah, here lately, feeding hasn’t taken as long as it used to," he told her, smiling.

Mac didn’t miss the insinuation in Richie’s statement. She realized he meant that before she had come into the picture, sex and feeding went hand in hand, but that now, all Jon wanted from the women he fed from was a blood donation. She motioned toward the sofa. "Go ahead and have a seat," she offered, "I was just unpacking a few things."

Before Richie could sit down, there was another knock on the door. He looked at Mac. "Expecting someone?"

"Nope," she answered.

"I’ll get it," Richie told her, even as he started for the door.

When Richie opened the door, he was surprised to see a stranger standing there. The man was a few inches shorter than Richie, with dark hair. But the fact that caught Richie’s attention right before the man pushed him back several feet was that his eyes were the same pale blue as Jon’s.

The vampire stepped calmly into the room and slammed the door. Seeing the door to Mac’s suite standing open, he used his mind and slammed it as well.

Mac eyed the stranger warily, briefly she thought about her charmed dime laying on the dresser in her suite. "Jon’s not here," she told the other vampire, as Richie stood glaring at him.

"I know that," the vamp replied cooly, "but I’m sure he’ll be comin’ back soon. He’s not goin’ ta leave his life mate for long."

Mac gasped in surprise. She hadn’t realized this vampire knew who she was. "Who are you?" she asked.

"The name’s Caleb," he answered, with a slight Texas drawl. "I’ve got a few things to discuss with Giovanni."

Richie spoke up then, "Actually, Jon won’t be back for a while. That’s why I’m here, to keep an eye on Mac. Why don’t you come back later and I’ll be sure to tell Jon that you stopped by." Richie started toward the door, but didn’t quite make it. Something picked him up and flung him across the room, barely missing Mac when he hit the floor.

Mac screamed, "Richie," and ran to the guitarist.

Richie sat up glaring at the vampire. "I’m okay," he told Mac as she knelt beside him.

"Let me guess," she replied softly, "you don’t have your nickle."

"No, it must be in my other pants," Richie answered sarcastically.

"My dime’s on my dresser," she told him, "I was sure we were out of danger when we left Portland."

Richie was still glaring at the intruder. He raised his voice slightly, "It won’t do any good to whisper, Mac. He’s a vamp. He can hear us anyway."

"Oh, so Giovanni’s told you his little secret," Caleb acknowledged Richie’s statement.

"Yeah, it’s kind of hard to miss those fangs, and the idle threats to rip my throat out and suck me dry," Richie told him, dryly. "Although, I’m sure they won’t be idle threats when he gets his hands on you."

"We’ll see," Caleb said softly. "This isn’t exactly where I wanted this to all go down," he said, almost as if he was talking to himself.

"Really?" Richie answered him, "Well, then why don’t you just tell me where you want Jon to meet you, and be on your way?"

"What? And just trust that he’ll show up?" Caleb asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Jon’s no coward," Richie defended his friend, as he rose to his feet. "What’s all this about?"

"That’s none of your concern," Caleb answered angrily.

The vampire leveled his gaze on Mac. Briefly, she felt the sensation of butterfly wings brushing against her brain, but she only glared at Caleb. "Come to me," he said softly, as if trying to mesmerize her.

Mac raised her chin in the air defiantly. "It wouldn’t work for Jon, and it won’t work for you," she told him arrogantly. "You can’t control me anymore than he could. So, go fuck yourself."

"Brute force it is then," Caleb said, sounding resigned.

The vampire raised one hand, even with his shoulder, and Mac felt herself being pulled toward him. Richie glared at the vampire, and with angry strides stepped between him and Mac. He crossed the remaining distance in long strides. "Stop it," Richie demanded angrily.

"What are you going ta do ta stop me, mortal?"

Richie drew back his right arm, and let his fist fly. He struck the shorter vampire squarely on the jaw. Caleb’s head barely turned. Richie only had a second to stare at him in surprise; he had put all of his strength behind that punch. Had that been a mortal man, Richie’s punch should’ve landed him on his ass.

Richie’s surprise vanished when the vampire used his mind to send Richie flying across the room again. This time Richie hit the wall. Hard. He slid unceremoniously to the floor in a heap.

Mac’s cry of alarm was silenced, when Caleb ordered softly, "You will come with me, willingly and quietly, or I will kill him."

"Mac, NO," Richie demanded when she nodded in agreement with the vampire’s order. The guitarist tried in vain to get up from the floor, but the vampire was using his powers to keep him firmly seated against the wall. When the vampire and Mac reached the door, Richie ordered loudly, "Come back here, Fucker! If you leave with her, Jon’ll stake you."

"Only if I don’t get ‘im first," Caleb said menacingly, as he opened the door.

"Don’t you want me to tell Jon where you’ll be?" Richie asked, before the vampire could leave with Mac.

"Just tell Giovanni, that I said," the vampire paused meaningfully, "Toby."

"Toby? What the fuck does that mean?" Richie demanded.

"He’ll know," was his only answer, as the door closed with a soft click behind Caleb and Mac.

Several minutes went by before Richie could finally get up from the floor. Knowing he wouldn’t find them, he ran to the door anyway. No luck. The vampire was long gone, taking Mac with him. Jon was going to be pissed!

Chapter Thirteen

2007-07-31T12:12:00.000-05:00

For once, Jon woke before Mac the next morning. He lay there for several minutes, just watching her sleep. He was worried about the vamp in Portland. What had that been about? He glanced at his watch; maybe it was time to make that call to Kristoff. He’d been putting it off, figuring there would be an argument between him and Mac, once Kristoff told him the answers to his questions. Jon didn’t know the answers for sure, but his gut told him that Mac wasn’t going to like what his friend had to say.

Carefully, he got out of bed and went to his own room to call his friend.

When Mac woke, she was disappointed to find Jon already awake and gone. She hoped he hadn’t gone too far, and that he had ordered her a Dr. Pepper from room service. Stretching, Mac realized muscles she didn’t even know she had were tender. Deciding on a hot shower, she climbed out of bed.

When she got out of the shower, Mac wrapped herself in her fluffy terry cloth robe. She padded barefoot into the sitting room of her suite and was surprised to find the door to Jon’s suite open. She could hear him talking to someone in what sounded like Russian. After not hearing anyone else’s voice, she decided he must be on the phone.

Quietly, she walked into the sitting room of his suite. Jon was sitting in a chair at the little table with his back to her and his head in his hand. He didn’t sound too thrilled with whatever the other person was saying.

"Da, Kristoff," she heard him say, just before he looked up at her. His smile seemed strained to her as he finished the conversation and flipped his cell phone closed.

"Bad news?" she asked, crossing the room to sit in the other chair at the table.

"Yeah, sort of," he answered.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," he told her, "but we need to."

Mac wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. "Was that Russian?"

"Yeah," he answered. "Kristoff speaks English, but he insisted it was my turn to speak Russian."

"Wow," she said, smiling, "English, Italian, and now Russian, I had no idea you were multi-lingual."

"It’s not something that’s common knowledge," he told her, "but when you’re as old as I am, you have plenty of time to learn several languages."

Mac figured she had put off the bad news as long as possible. "So, what did Kristoff have to say?"

"He’s the vamp friend I told you about that I could call to get answers to our questions," Jon told her. He knew she wouldn’t be happy with the information he had gathered. Kristoff had told him all he needed to know and more. His friend had been happy to hear that he had finally found his life mate. Jon had been surprised to find out that Maria had not wanted to be turned either, but her love for Kristoff had eventually changed her mind. Jon hoped he could get that lucky with Mac, but he’d have to get her to love him first.

"And?" she asked, grinning. Obviously, Jon wasn’t through stalling.

"Shit," he exclaimed, raking his hand through his hair. "You’re not going to like this, Mac."

"Well, then let’s get it over with," she told him softly.

"Uh, first of all, Kristoff congratulated me on finding you and said he couldn’t wait to meet you," he replied.

"Why do I hear a but in there?"

"Because there is one," he told her, leaning back in the chair, his eyes meeting hers. "Mac, you and I just being together is not enough to save me. We have to go through the binding ceremony, and to do that you have to be a vampire," he said it all in a rush, then sat waiting on the explosion of her temper.

But, no explosion came. Mac calmly stated, "Well, then, Jon, it’s been nice knowing you," she stood up, and started across the room. "I believe I have enough material to finish my article. After tonight’s show I’ll be going back to Dallas."

In a flash, Jon was across the room and grabbing her by the arm. "You’re kidding, right?"

"Nope," she answered, "I have no desire to be turned into a vampire. Hell, I have enough trouble fitting in as it is."

"And, you’d just casually walk away from what we have?" he asked, pain in his voice.

"And, what exactly is that, Jon?" she asked, her voice rising with her temper. "Great sex?"

"Damn it, Mac," Jon exclaimed, pulling her toward him. "We have more than that."

"Do we?"

"I need you, Mac," he told her.

That wasn’t exactly what Mac wanted to hear. She realized that she wanted him to want to be with her because he cared about her, not because he needed her. It sounded like she was the lesser of two evils. Insanity or spending eternity with her.

"That may be, Jon, but do you want to be with me? Do you care about me at all?" she asked, and he could hear the tears in her voice.

"Mac," he placated, "how can you doubt that I want you?"

"Don’t turn this around to sex, Jon," she warned. "I don’t doubt that you want me. You’ve made that perfectly clear. But, do you care about me?"

"Of course I care about you," Jon exclaimed, "I don’t love you, yet. But, I’m sure I could. Let’s explore what I do feel," he began to count off the points on his fingers, " Jealousy. Hell, I was jealous of Richie. Possessiveness. You’re mine, Mac, and I won’t let you go."

"You can’t keep me here against my will," she told him, angrily.

"Maybe not," he grinned, "but I can follow you wherever you go."

"Would you?"

"Hell yeah," he answered.

"You realize, of course, that would be considered stalking, and that’s illegal," she told him.

"Mac, please don’t go yet," he pleaded. "Give us a chance."

She looked up at him. He looked so beautiful, wearing nothing but the gray sweat pants he had on the night before, his hair rumpled from sleep, and standing there basically begging her not to go. No man had ever begged her not to leave him. Hell, she had never left a man before. She thought about the pleasure they had shared the night before. Funny, she couldn’t remember anything after that explosive orgasm. Suddenly, she blushed to the roots of her hair. "Did I pass out last night?"

Jon blinked at the sudden change in topic, but then seemed to grow a few inches in height as he proudly beamed at her. "Yes, ma’am," he answered, nodding and giving her a self-satisfied smirk. "Want to again?"

"Quit changing the subject to sex," she ordered, exasperated.

"I didn’t that time," he told her, still smirking. "You did."

How could she resist him? There was no way. She just wasn’t strong enough to walk away from him, even if, she couldn’t keep him permanently without becoming something she didn’t want to be. Mac was afraid she was already falling in love with him.

"I’ll stay a little longer," she conceded.

"I’ll take what I can get," Jon said, smiling at her. He was sure he could convince her to stay with him permanently. He just had to figure out a way.

Jon spent the rest of the day working out, not physically. Mentally. Somehow, someway, he had to make her want to stay with him. He finally decided he would use every weapon at his disposal. He would even use her desire for him against her, if he had to.

********************

That afternoon he was at the venue for sound check. He and the guys had just finished going through their paces and he was going back to his dressing room, when Richie fell into step beside him.

"What’s bothering you, Kidd?" his friend asked.

"The problem is so huge, I don’t even know where to start," Jon told him, as he continued walking.

"I hate to sound cliche here, Jon, but maybe at the beginning would be a good place to start," Richie suggested.

Jon glanced around the passageway of the venue. "Yeah, but we better wait ‘til we get to my dressing room."

"Isn’t Mac in there?" the guitarist asked.

"No, and that’s part of the story," Jon told him.

"Aw shit, I shoulda known it was woman troubles," Richie groaned.

"You act like women have always been a problem for me," the singer replied, "and that couldn’t be farther from the truth."

"See, that’s your problem now," Richie explained, just as they reached the door of Jon’s dressing room. "You’ve always had it so easy with women that you have no idea how to handle a few hurdles."

"Oh, this is a little bigger than a mere hurdle," Jon said, "this can only be called a hurdle if Everest can be called a hill."

The two men walked into the dressing room, and Jon casually closed the door. "That bad, huh?" Richie asked.

Jon explained the situation, even telling Richie about the phone conversation with Kristoff. He finished with, "But, Mac doesn’t want to be a vampire. She has said that more than once, and stressed it again this morning. Hell, she almost left when I told her what Kristoff said."

"Has she said what it is that makes her not want to be a vamp?" Richie asked. "Because, trust me, if I was offered eternal youth, I would jump at the chance."

"No, you wouldn’t," Jon told him, shaking his head, "it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, Rich. I’ve explained that to you."

"I know, Jon," Richie said, grinning, "ten years ago, you made it perfectly clear what I’d be getting into if you changed me. And, you’ve assured me over and over again that I made the right choice when I said thanks but no thanks. I didn’t wanna live longer than my daughter or out live my wife by a few hundred years. Of course, the wife issue isn’t exactly an issue anymore, is it?"

"And, I didn’t even go into the rules that we all follow or risk the wrath of the Council either," Jon said quietly.

"Oh yes," Richie sighed dramatically, "the mysterious Council."

"Don’t joke," Jon cautioned. "They’re real, I’ve stood before them and been judged before, and I was scared shitless. But, that was before Kristoff sat on the Council."

"You never told me that before," Richie accused.

"I staked a fellow vamp, Rich, I had to go before the Council and explain my actions."

"Really?" Richie was surprised.

"It was about 130 years ago, in Lincoln County, New Mexico. A vampire friend of mine viciously killed a saloon girl. He had gone rogue, completely insane with blood lust. I knew he did it, and I hunted him down and staked him. When the Council found out what I had done, I was summoned to them and judged," Jon told him.

"Lincoln County, New Mexico? Isn’t that where Billy the Kid was from?" Richie asked.

"No, Billy wasn’t from there, but that’s where he became famous," Jon answered. Richie noticed that just like every other time Jon had mentioned the famous outlaw, he did so now with a kind of familiarity, like he’d known him personally. "The Lincoln County War is what made The Kid famous."

"You knew him, didn’t you?" Richie asked.

"Yeah," Jon answered, smiling. He had often wondered when Richie would ever get around to asking that question. "I rode with him, not very long, but long enough to make friends with him."

"Ah," Richie nodded in understanding, "so Young Guns was a..."

Jon interrupted him, "A complete historical fallacy. There were a hell of a lot of factual inaccuracies in that movie, and I for one know that for sure."

"Okay, Jon, I just gotta know," Richie said, excitedly, "was Brushy Bill Roberts really Billy the kid?"

"I have no idea," Jon answered, "I never met Brushy Bill."

"Oh man, what a let down," Richie sighed.

"I can tell you, that I ran into Billy in El Paso after Garret supposedly shot him," Jon told him. "He was who told me where I could find the vampire. I had tracked him to El Paso, but wasn’t sure where to find him in town once I got there. Billy had been in town for a few months hiding out, so he was overly cautious and very aware of any strangers that rode into town."

"Holy shit," Richie breathed.

Into the silence that fell after Richie’s amazement, Jon said softly, "She doesn’t wanna drink blood."

"Okay, yeah," Richie nodded in understanding, "Everest is anything but a hill."

Jon froze. That loud crackle seemed to fill his ears, as static electricity raced down his spine.

"Fuck," he exclaimed, as he hurried to the door. He flung it open and ran into the hallway, looking quickly in every direction. A few crew members walked by and eyed him curiously, but no one else was in sight.

"Jon?" Richie questioned from inside the room.

Jon walked back into the room and closed the door with a soft click. Looking at Richie with dread filled eyes, he said angrily, "He’s here. Somewhere. That fucker is here."

"Who?"

"The vamp from Portland," Jon answered, "he’s here."

Chapter Twelve

2007-07-29T13:53:00.000-05:00

For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening hours, Mac spent every moment that Richie wasn’t occupied with work, continually answering the question, "Really?" or "Are you sure?". Once he even said, "So, show me something cool."

Jon had given up on answering Richie. He would just shake his head at his friend and walk away. Richie might be having a hard time grasping the concept of Mac being a witch, but Jon knew it would eventually sink in. He was proven right when Richie approached him before the concert and suggested a song to be added to the set list. Jon laughed out loud at the idea, but quickly included the Eagles song, Witchy Woman, on the set list.

The concert went off without a hitch, but during the short after show meet and greet with radio station contest winners, Jon felt that familiar warning again. Quickly and cautiously, he searched the crowded conference room, but he didn’t see anyone who didn’t seem to belong. His eyes found Mac standing between Richie and David while they signed autographs and posed for pictures. Jon spent another hour smiling and signing his name, but continually kept an eye out for Mac. Whoever was lurking around, Jon didn’t want them anywhere near her. He wouldn’t feel completely comfortable until they left Portland. Jon knew whatever vampire was sneaking around to get a look at him wasn’t a friend, otherwise they would have already come forward.

The flight to San Francisco was short. By 2am local time, Mac and Jon were settled into adjoining suites. Once again, Mac was touched by Jon’s discretion, but there was still that nagging little thought in the back of her mind that his discretion wasn’t to protect her, that it was in fact to protect himself. He was, in the eyes of the world, a married man after all.

Mac was getting settled into her room, when there was a knock on the door between her room and Jon’s.

"Come on in," she called out.

He opened the door, but didn’t enter the room. Instead, he casually leaned one shoulder against the door frame. He was shirtless, with his arms crossed over his sculpted chest. His crossed ankles drew her eyes and she realized he was barefoot. Jon was wearing nothing but a pair of jogging pants, that rode so low on his hips she could see his hipbone. "You could’ve just told me in my head," he told her, smiling. The lines normally around his eyes weren’t there; he had dropped the glamour. Jon had been doing so whenever they were alone since the night he’d told her what he was, but it still threw her for a loop every time.

"I guess I’m just not used to communicating that way, yet," she answered him from the doorway leading into her bedroom.

To anyone else he would seem relaxed, but to Mac, he looked ready to pounce, standing there still smiling at her. His stance reminded her that he was a predator, and she felt like dinner. Somehow, that didn’t bother her as much as it would have before he’d bitten her earlier in the day. She blinked, and suddenly he wasn’t across the room anymore, but standing right in front of her and reaching up to pull the scrunchie from her hair. Her ponytail didn’t stand a chance against his long fingers, and her tresses fell around her shoulders.

"How did you...," she started to ask, but at his raised eyebrow she let the subject drop. He had crossed the room with lightening speed courtesy of his vamp powers.

She felt the fluttering sensation in her head right before his husky voice sounded in her mind. But, I want you to get used to talking to me this way, moglie mia. It adds intimacy, don’t you think? His fingers laced through her hair, as he combed it back off her shoulders. The smile was still on his face, but now it seemed like a lazy, sensual smile with his blue eyes ablaze with desire.

Refusing to give into his unspoken demand, she told him out loud, "I’ve been meaning to ask you what that endearment means in English. It is Italian, right?"

Yeah, it’s Italian, he answered her.

She waited for him to tell her what it meant, but his hand softly caressed her cheek and she looked up into his face. His eyebrow raised in expectation told her he wasn’t going to tell her until she asked him the way he wanted her to. She wasn’t ready to give in just yet. "I’ll look it up on the internet," she told him, grinning mischievously.

You’re so stubborn, he told her, still smiling, but I like that.

"Then you’ll...," he interrupted her in her head.

Nope, because I’m more stubborn. His warm fingers were tracing the neckline of her T-shirt, while the other hand lay on the curve of her hip, burning her.

She gave him a devilish smile, before turning away from him. She crossed the room to her laptop. Opening it, as she leaned over the table it sat upon. She braced one hand on the table top, and told him, "Curiosity is killin’ me. Just gimme a minute."

In an instant his left arm was snaking around her waist and she felt the heat of his body pressed close to her back. Even his thighs were rubbing the back of hers, as he ground his arousal against the curves of her bottom. His right hand pushed her hair aside so he could place a series of hot kisses on her neck. While in her head his voice rumbled, Are you sure you want to do that now, Mac? Jon was intentionally not thinking about what the word meant, otherwise with their minds joined she would get it.

"Absolutely," she answered.

His right hand stroked her shoulder before sliding around to gently caress her breast, even as he continued to kiss and lightly nip her neck. Mac was finding it hard to concentrate on her task, and finding it even harder to care if she ever found out what the damn endearment meant. With him in her head, whether she talked to him that way or not, she could feel what he felt, the enjoyment he felt over the simple act of kissing her neck and caressing her breast. She also knew that he could feel what she was feeling.

Lightly, he grazed her neck with his fangs, and she shivered all the way to her toes. The arm at her waist shifted, and soon his fingers were softly stroking the soft skin of her stomach just under the waistband of her jeans.

"I can look tomorrow," she announced, before turning in his arms.

Her hands skimmed up his muscular chest, lightly flicking his nipples before moving up to clasp his face. Their lips met, tongues tangling, breaths coming in quick pants. Mac knew she would never get enough of this man.

I won’t ever get enough of you either, Mac, he told her, even the voice in her head sounded husky and heavy with desire.

His hands cupped her bottom, and she felt her feet leaving the floor. She wrapped her legs around his lean waist and let him carry her to the bed in her bedroom. The pleasure he was feeling combined with her own and was almost more than she could bear. The thought crossed her mind that she just might die of pleasure.

No, you won’t die, he told her, without breaking their kiss, but if you did...What a way to go, huh?

She wanted to agree with him, but didn’t want to break the kiss, or give in and communicate the way he wanted.

Too late, he told her, satisfaction dripping from the voice in her head, I heard that.

"Are you going to gloat, or make love to me?" she asked, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

I can do both, tesoro mia, he told her as his lips met hers again, trust me. I’m good at multi-tasking.

She unwrapped her legs from his waist and slowly slid down his body until her feet touched the floor again. He continued to devour her mouth as his hands caressed a hip, her waist, then a breast, before they came to rest on either side of her throat, his fingers splayed and his thumbs stroking her jawbone on either side of her face. Jon broke the kiss long enough to pull her shirt off over her head, but he didn’t go back to her lips. Mac’s head fell back as Jon again began to nibble on her neck, placing little kisses here and there, lingering on the sensitive spot right below her ear. His hands skimmed her heated skin, tracing the bottom of her bra around to her back where he deftly unhooked it. She barely noticed as the scrap of satin and lace slid down her arms and fell to the floor, because his hands had already moved to the fly of her jeans.

Jon was lost in the sensations of touching her satiny skin, reveling in the pleasure that she was feeling as well. The world narrowed down to just the two of them as her hands moved to his waist and slowly untied the drawstring that would loosen the sweat pants and allow them to fall to the floor. She gave the pants a little persuasion to get past the slight swell of his hips, but then they fell the rest of the way on their own; his cock springing free and standing at attention.

Mac heard his sigh of pleasure echo in her head when her hand clasped around his staff. His hands smoothed down her back, under the loosened material of her jeans, to grab the globes of her bottom and pull her tighter against him, before those same hands pushed her jeans off her hips so that they pooled in the floor around her feet. He picked her up then, leaving her jeans behind, he quickly stepped out of the pile that was his own pants and took the one step necessary to lay her gently on the bed.

His name escaped her lips on a breath as he joined her. She was completely lost to the pleasure they created, the pleasure that started in each of their own bodies but then echoed to the other’s mind. He wanted to bite her, and he would, but he was putting it off, enjoying the anticipation.

Mac realized his desire to bite her thanks to the link between their minds. "Go ahead, Jon," she urged, in a breathless imitation of her usual voice. She remembered the pleasure that had engulfed her when he had bitten her before, and longed for that again.

No, Mac, his gravely voice echoed in her mind, it will be so much better if I wait. Just enjoy this now. He placed a hot kiss on that spot below her ear, his moist breath ghosting across the skin of her neck as his tongue licked a path from there to her jugular. His tongue circled her pulse point as he entered her.

"Oh my God," she gasped, raising her hips to meet his thrust.

Jon controlled the urge to just pound into her, moving slowly, wanting to prolong the pleasure.

"Yes, do it," she encouraged him, "faster, harder."

He looked down into her face. Her eyes were squeezed tightly closed and she had her fuller bottom lip clamped between her teeth, as she tossed her head from side to side in wild abandon. Her face glistened with a thin layer of sweat. He bent his head to lick at the beads on her upper lip, before kissing her deeply again.

"Jon," she pleaded. He knew she was teetering on the edge, that line that separated the real world from that other place that only lovers could enter. That place where souls had wings and lovers soared together, free and boundless, for those few seconds that seemed to last an eternity but ended all too soon. While she balanced precariously on that border between earth and heaven, that’s when he bit her.

"God, Jon," she screamed, as she fell. Her soul took flight, even as he held her tightly in his arms.

Her pleasure washed over him, igniting his own orgasm. He continued to move inside her as he drank. Drawing deeply, he took what he needed, in more ways than one.

Mac’s winged soul flew higher as his orgasm washed over her. Lights exploded like fireworks in her head, until there was nothing but black.

Jon gently laved the bite with his tongue, knowing it would heal soon. He realized Mac had fainted from the pleasure that had taken them both higher than they had ever been. So, he carefully moved her farther up on the pillow, trying to make her more comfortable. Pulling her tighter against him, his chin rested on the top of her head, and soon he fell asleep.

Chapter Eleven

2007-07-29T00:18:00.001-05:00

When the door closed behind Richie, Mac turned back to Jon. "We’ll get to the topics of why he would think I’d hurt you and why you didn’t say something about needing blood later. Right now, what can I do to help you? Here’s my neck," she offered, getting down on her knees in front of his chair and tilting her head to the side.

Weakly, Jon trailed his fingers across her cheek and down her neck. "Mac, I don’t want to hurt you, and I can’t put you in a thrall to avoid that because your mind is too strong. The only other option is to bite you during sex, and unfortunately, I’m too weak for that option."

Mac knew that he needed blood or he would die. It told her a lot about the man before her that he would risk death rather than cause her pain. "Can I allow a thrall, whatever that is? Ya know, let you do it?"

"Tesoro mia, it’s not that simple. Your mind is too strong. A thrall would make you mindless, allow me to control you and your mind. It would be instinctive for your brain to rebel against that control," he told her, his voice weak.

Her mind raced with possibilities. Suddenly, she ordered softly, almost pleading, "Slip into my head and bite me, Jon. You need this."

Gently, he pulled her toward him and kissed her. Softly at first, but then his kiss became more urgent, his tongue darting past her lips to tangle with hers. Mac gave herself over to the kiss, barely noticing when his mind joined with hers. His lips left hers to trail hotly across her cheek and down her neck.

You taste so good, moglie mia, he said in her head, as his tongue stroked her jugular.

On her knees, between his muscular thighs, with her upper body resting against his chest and his arms holding her tenderly, Mac moaned softly. The sound coming from deep in her throat. With their minds joined, she was overwhelmed with not only the sensations he was causing, but also with the ones he was feeling. She shivered when his fangs grazed her neck, sending fire to every nerve ending in her body. She could tell from his own response that he was feeling what she was feeling as well. Briefly, she wondered if making love with him like this would feel as good.

It would be so much better than this, Mac, he whispered huskily in her head, just as he buried his fangs in her neck.

She only felt a slight pinch, no worse than a bee sting, her pleasure was so great. She couldn’t exactly taste her own blood, but she knew from Jon that he was enjoying it. His pleasure washed over her in waves as he drank from her greedily. Eagerly, she moved against him, one hand caressing his chest while the other trailed down to stroke his arousal through the denim of his jeans.

His pleasure at her touch combined with her own pushed her over the edge. Vaguely, she realized that he felt her climax as he thrust against her hand. Then, before her orgasm was over, she was hit with the powerful force of his. She trembled weakly against him, feeling like a leaf tossed about on a storm swept sea.

Gently, Jon laved the bite with his tongue, before trailing kisses up her neck. Thank you, moglie mia, he whispered in her head.

No, thank you, she answered him weakly, before collapsing against his chest.

Tenderly, he pulled her into his lap. Cradling her like a small child, one hand caressed her back, while the other pushed her hair back of her face. He withdrew from her mind as his fingers threaded through her hair.

"Why did Richie think I would hurt you?" she asked softly.

He spent the next few moments explaining Cecilia’s betrayal to her.

Mac quickly became angry at the long dead woman. How could she have treated him that way if she had truly loved him? No wonder he had been afraid to tell her what he was. "And Richie was afraid I was just waiting for my chance to stake you too?"

"Don’t be angry with him, Mac," Jon told her, "he was only worried about me because he’s my friend."

"I understand," she replied, even though she didn’t really. How could Richie compare her to that vile woman? She glanced up at Jon, happy to see his color had returned to normal. Briefly, she wondered how she would explain when the bite mark he had left on her neck disappeared much more quickly than it should. She realized that it was time she shared her own secrets with him.

"Jon," she said, tentatively, "there’s a few things we need to talk about."

Something in her voice told him she was afraid to tell him whatever it was. "What is it, Mac?"

She started to get up off his lap, but he tightened his arms around her, unwilling to let her go just yet. He bent his golden head to brush her forehead with a light kiss. "You don’t have to move to tell me," he whispered.

Several long minutes went by, before she finally spoke up. "I don’t know how to tell you this."

"Are you married to someone else?" he teased.

She shook her head. "No, but I haven’t been entirely honest with you." She felt Jon tense beneath her.

"About what?" he asked, his voice soft yet controlled.

"Remember that night we had dinner in your hotel room, and you asked if I was a witch?" she asked, fearfully.

"Yeah, I remember," he replied, "you said no."

"I don’t exactly like that term," she told him. She was quiet for a few seconds, building her courage, and Jon wisely kept silent waiting. Finally, she breathed, barely above a whisper, "But, technically I am."

Jon looked down at her with astonishment on his face. "What do you mean, technically?" he asked. Hoping she was literally a witch, with the abilities of said supernatural creatures, and not just what society had come to call a witch. If she was a witch in truth, she could be turned into a vamp with no mental problems, and it would also explain why she handled the truth about him so well.

"I am a witch. So is my mother, and her mother before her and so on. For at least 10 generations," she answered.

Jon knew that a witch was a broad term and that the witch in question could have any number of supernatural abilities. Not every witch had the same powers that other witches might have.

"What are your powers?" he asked, obviously intrigued.

"Foresight and the power to heal myself of minor wounds," she answered.

"Do you practice the arts?"

"No," she said, bowing her head, "I’m a huge disappointment to my mother, because I didn’t want to learn the proper art of casting spells and making potions. But, occasionally I can make things happen. I have to be careful and not speak in rhymes."

Jon thought about that first day on the plane when she had been listening to the MP3 player. She had only tapped her fingers to the tune, not mouthed the words to sing along like most people. He laughed, "You can’t even sing along with the radio, can you?"

She grinned back at him. "No, because songs usually rhyme."

He thought about the lyrics to some of his songs and then laughed out loud at the mental picture of what could happen if she sang along with him while he was on stage. It would be quite a spectacle if she started singing along to...say...Bed of Roses or... worse...My Guitar Lies Bleeding in My Arms. The image of his guitar starting to bleed on stage made him laugh even harder.

"What’s so funny?" she asked, smiling.

"I was just thinking about what would happen if you sang along with me while I was on stage," he got out between laughs.

She thought about some of the lyrics to his songs that she had heard at the shows she had attended and joined in the laughter.

Sobering, he asked her, "So, about this power of foresight, what actually happens and what do you see?"

Briefly, she explained her visions.

"That’s what happened the night in the bar, when Richie had to walk you to your room?"

"Yeah, I saw you sucking on a woman’s neck. Of course, I just thought it was some sort of sexual encounter and not what it actually was," she answered. "But, my visions usually leave me light-headed and physically drained."

"And the power to heal? Can you heal others?"

"No, only myself," she answered, regretfully, "there have been many times I wished I could heal others."

Jon moved her chin to the side to look at her neck where he had bitten her. Even though she had told him of her abilities, it still surprised him that the mark was gone. "It’s gone," he announced, awe in his voice.

"Yeah," she nodded, "I figured it would be, and that when you noticed there would be questions. I just decided I should come clean and tell you my secret beforehand."

"Besides your family, does anyone else know?" he asked.

"Sandy knows, and thinks it’s very cool, but when I told Daniel about my visions, he thought I was crazy and suggested I seek professional help. Needless to say, I didn’t bother to tell him the rest," she answered, sadly.

"The man was not only a liar, but a fool," Jon swore, softly.

Truly puzzled, she looked up at him to ask, "Why do you keep calling him a liar?"

"Because he lied to you and convinced you it was the truth."

"Maybe it was just his opinion," she pointed out.

"Mac," Jon said softly, tilting her chin up to look into her eyes, "if it was his opinion that you weren’t beautiful, sexy and alluring, then why was he with you?" He didn’t wait for an answer, "He told you those things to keep you. He thought if he broke down your self-confidence that you wouldn’t ever leave him because you would believe no one else would want you. So, he lied to you. That’s how men like him operate."

"But he left me," she countered.

"When?"

"When I told him about my visions," she answered.

"Probably because he was afraid you would eventually ‘see’ the truth," he responded. "I hate to let you go, since you feel so good in my arms, but I really should get to work," he told her softly, before kissing her gently.

"Would it be okay if I followed you around, for my article. I mean, I am still supposed to be doing a job here," she grinned at him.

"When you ask so sweetly, how can I say no?"

********************

Jon had been answering Mac’s endless stream of questions and explaining the behind the scenes details of a concert for over an hour, when Obie told him they were ready to do sound check. Mac told him she was going to take a seat out in the arena and jot down some notes before she forgot everything he had told her.

Richie and David were arguing over who was going to "get" the little redhead who had introduced herself earlier as their promotions assistant. She worked for the local promoter and was responsible for getting them anything they might need while they were in town. Tico had just suggested they flip a coin, when Jon joined them on stage.

"Hey, Jonny," Richie said, grinning, "what’s on the agenda?"

"I don’t care," Jon answered, "I’m in a generous mood. Why don’t one of you pick something?"

"Why don’t we let the sexy little reporter with the fantastic legs choose something?" David suggested, looking in Mac’s direction and waggling his eyebrows at her.

Jon walked up to the white mic stand and asked, "What do you say, Doll?"

"Ya’ll know any country?" she questioned loudly from the third row, smiling.

Richie grabbed his chest, apparently wounded by her question. David burst into laughter, and Tico replied, obviously offended, "Did she say what I thought she said?"

Hugh chuckled and answered Tico’s question since apparently no one else was going to, "Yeah, Teek, I believe she did."

Mac was surprised to hear the bass player answer Tico. That was the first sentence she’d heard come out of his mouth the whole time she had been with the band. Normally, he gave one word responses to everything, when he spoke at all. Jon had told her that Hugh was just like that around people he didn’t know, but that once he warmed up to her, he would be talking her ears off.

Jon caught her attention again by announcing, "I have an idea." He turned and motioned the guys to him. He talked quietly to them for a few seconds, the guys nodding in response occasionally. The men were grouped together, reminding Mac of a football huddle. She saw Hugh ask something and Jon answered, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. When the huddle disbanded, all the men went back to their places on stage.

From the left side of the stage, Richie asked, "Hey Kidd, doncha need your guitar for this one?"

"I guess I do," Jon answered, laughing and motioning to a guy off stage. The man walked out and handed Jon his black guitar.

Mac smiled and watched as he put the strap over his head and one shoulder. This should be interesting.

"Let’s do this," he announced, then counted off the beat. When he started playing the intro of the song, Mac immediately recognized the song and smiled. Then he began to sing...

A gypsy wind is blowing warm tonight,
the sky is starlit and the time is right.
And still, you’re telling me you have to go,
before you leave there’s something you should know.
Yeah, somethin’ you should know, baby.
I’ve seen you smilin’ in the summer sun,
I’ve seen your long hair flyin’ when you run.
I’ve made my mind up that it’s meant to be,
Someday lady you’ll accomp’ny me.
Someday lady you’ll accomp’ny me,
Up where the rivers meet the sounding sea.
High above me now, you’re wild and free,
Ah, but someday lady you’ll accomp’ny me.
Someday lady, you’ll accomp’ny me.

It was one of Mac’s favorite songs, and it was all she could do to keep from singing along with him. His whiskey smooth voice fit the lyrics perfectly and he sounded a lot like Bob Seger but with a little more gravel in his voice. The band members had joined in playing after the first few strums of Jon’s guitar and seemed to know the music as well as Jon knew the lyrics.

He was about halfway through the second verse when he seemed to freeze up. He paused over the lyrics, but the band kept on playing. Richie smiled, obviously amused that Jon had forgotten the words, but Mac knew he hadn’t forgotten the lyrics. This was the verse he had sang for her in her dream. Something was very wrong.

On stage, Jon was smiling and singing just for Mac, but halfway through the second verse his skin suddenly warmed and the sensation of static electricity raced down his spine causing a frisson of fear to accompany it. It was the warning of another vampire in the immediate vicinity. Quickly and cautiously, his eyes scanned what he could see of the lighted venue.

He felt the brush of Mac’s mind reaching out to his. Then heard her question in his head, What’s wrong?

Nothing to be concerned over, moglie mia, he answered her.

Are you sure? She questioned.

Not really, he told her cautiously, slowly come to me, Mac. Act as if there’s nothing wrong, but get up here and we’ll go to my dressing room. But don’t leave my sight.

Jon watched as she slowly gathered her things. "Is that enough, Obie?" he asked.

When Obie nodded and gave him a thumbs up, his gaze went back to Mac. His eyes never left her even while he laughed and took the good natured teasing from his band mates over forgetting the lyrics to the song. Richie was the only one not teasing him. The guitarist realized something was wrong; he knew Jon too well.

Jon crossed the stage and met Mac at the top of the stairs. Richie was close behind him. Once they were in the hallway in the back stage area, Richie asked, "What is it, Jon? What’s wrong?"

"Remember that night in the bar in Moscow when I told you Kristoff was there and you asked me how I knew?" Jon asked.

"Yeah," Richie answered, nodding.

"Same situation," Jon told him, "only I’m not expecting anyone, so I don’t know who this is, and I’m not taking any chances. I want Mac out of sight."

Jon took Mac’s small hand in one of his and pulled her hurriedly down the passageway. He wouldn’t feel comfortable until he had her behind closed doors. This warning system was built into a vampire’s genetic make up for a reason. It was supposed to let them know when another vamp was around to keep one from invading the territory of another, but also just so there were no surprises. Not all vampires were good, upstanding citizens. Some were violent and evil, especially ones that had gone rogue.

When they were safely behind the closed doors of his dressing room, he relaxed a little. At Mac’s questioning glance, he quickly explained to her what had happened.

"Is there any real danger?" she asked calmly.

"Probably not," he replied, pulling her into his arms, "but I’d rather be safe than sorry."

She pulled back from him to dig into the pocket of her jeans. Digging out three coins, she took one of Jon’s hands in both of hers laying a quarter in his palm and closing his hand around it. She held his closed fist in both of her hands, while he looked at her with one eyebrow raised.

"I don’t need your pocket change," he joked, smiling down at her.

"Hush," she ordered. Then closing her eyes she softly chanted, "As long as you hold this charm, no one can do you harm."

Jon realized what she had just done, but Richie looked on with a puzzled look on his face. He continued to frown at her, when she walked over and performed the same procedure with him, placing a nickel in his hand.

"Am I the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on here?" Richie asked, even as he watched Mac perform the ritual again, placing the dime in her back pocket when she was done.

Jon looked at Mac and when she nodded her permission, he explained, "Mac’s a witch."

"Excuse me?" Richie questioned. When his friend just looked at him with a smile, Richie asked, "A real witch? They really exist?"

"You can believe he’s a vampire," Mac said, jerking her head in Jon’s direction, "but you can’t believe I’m a witch?"

"I’ve seen his fangs," Richie explained, shrugging.

"I bit her and fed this afternoon," Jon told his friend. "Do you see any bite marks on her neck?"

Richie looked over at Mac. She tilted her head to either side, showing off her long neck. No bite marks. "Holy shit," Richie breathed.

Chapter Ten

2007-07-24T13:02:00.000-05:00

He only had a moment to think about what to say before she came bursting through the door between their rooms. His wine clouded mind wasn’t able to come up with even one reasonable explanation other than the truth, but it was able to register her skimpy clothing. She was wearing nothing but a Dallas Cowboys football jersey, that barely covered her hips. Her hair hung down around her shoulders in waves tousled from sleep. She was gorgeous. And angry.

"What the fuck is going on?" she asked, her eyes flashing green fire.

She threw her arms up in the air and Jon caught the briefest glimpse of white cotton panties. That was his Mac, a no frills kind of girl. No fancy satin or lace. His eyes traveled the length of her beautiful legs.

But, her voice drew his gaze back to her face. "I asked you a question, Bon Jovi." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Uh," he began, "I don’t..."

"Don’t you dare," she interrupted him, uncrossing her arms to point a finger at him threateningly, "don’t you dare try to tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about or that you don’t know what’s going on. Because, I know you do."

"Mac," he tried again, "this requires an elaborate explanation. Can’t we talk about this in the morning?" he asked, his voice slurring slightly.

"You’re drunk," she accused for the second time, then gasped.

He stood swaying slightly as she marched across the room. Mac jerked his shirt aside, popping a button off that fell unheeded to the floor.

"I knew it," she gasped when she saw the mark. "It wasn’t just a dream, was it? You were in my head," she said, glaring at him, daring him to deny it.

Jon met her gaze. While he scrambled for an explanation, he failed to notice when she slid into his head. How do I tell her I’m a vampire without it sounding crazy? Various ideas crossed his mind, but he discarded them all, while Mac quietly withdrew from his head.

As crazy as it sounded, now it all made sense.

~him opening a door without having to unlock it.
~the chair back under his feet without him having moved.
~his unexplained absences from group activities.
~the visions of him sucking on female necks.
~he looked younger when he slept.
~the butterfly sensation whenever he was around and his raised eyebrow that accompanied them.
~the graceful moves of a predator.
~the overwhelming sense of danger that surrounded him.
~the aura of sex that he oozed with every move, without even trying.
~his barely controlled passion after that first kiss; the fact that he wouldn’t look at her afterwards.

"Show me your fangs," she ordered in awe, barely above a whisper.

Jon’s jaw dropped. "What?"

"You heard me," she said softly.

"Mac," he tried to placate her.

She stepped closer to him and ran a finger seductively down his chest while he watched in amazement. Where had this self-confidence come from?

"Or do they only grow when something else does," she asked sensually, as she leaned forward to kiss his neck. She trailed kisses down his neck and across his chest, pausing at the mark, then over to a flat male nipple that she circled with her tongue.

Jon groaned as his fangs lengthened. "How did you guess?"

She stepped back from him and smiled in triumph. "I was in your head."

He frowned. "And how did you do that?"

"I have no idea," she answered, shrugging.

"You have secrets you aren’t sharing," he accused.

"You’re going to lecture me on secrets?"

"Oh, come on, Mac," he said, "like you would’ve believed that."

"I might have," she answered. "But, I’m talking about your wife."

"I told you," he responded, laying his hands on her shoulders, "I’m not married."

"So what you said in my dream," she said, "was the truth?"

"I thought I needed a cover story," he explained, "to make me look more normal on the surface, so no one would look any deeper."

"Is this what you really look like?" she asked, thinking about how much younger he looked when he was asleep.

"Does it really matter?" he countered.

"Not really," she answered, "but I noticed how much younger you look when you’re sleeping."

"You did? I wondered if you had noticed," he replied. "It’s called a glamour. I use it to make me look older so no one will notice that I haven’t aged."

"Lose it," she ordered softly, then gasped in amazement when he suddenly looked almost 20 years younger. He looked exactly like he did in the poster of the band that Sandy had hanging in her bedroom. It was a poster from the 80's, and the only difference in that poster and the man standing before her was his hair was shorter and blonder. "How old are you?"

"444 years old," he answered, blithely.

"Whoa," she gasped. "I think I need to sit down."

"Mac," he said, bending slightly at the knees to look her in the eye, "please, tell me this doesn’t disgust you."

She looked up at him smiling. "I don’t believe there’s anything about you that could disgust me. But, this is a lot to take in."

Jon walked over to the chair he had vacated earlier. "Have a seat then, there’s a lot more we need to discuss."

********************

Jon spent the next hour answering all of Mac’s rapidly fired questions. The reporter in her had taken over, and she had asked everything from how he had become a vampire to why could he go out in the sunlight. He had explained all the myths and all the facts, but they had not discussed what he considered to be the most important thing, the topic of life-mates.

"So, you’ve been walking in and out of my head since I met you?" she asked, her tone giving away the aggravation she was feeling.

"Not since the beginning," he corrected, "I tried a couple of times but your mind is too strong. I’ve only been able to get into your head since we made love that first time."

She leaned forward in her chair and glared at him from across the small table. "How many times have you been in my head, Jon?"

He could tell this part bothered her. "Uh, four, I think. I wasn’t exactly counting, but twice when you were dreaming and twice when you were awake."

"Counting tonight?"

"Yeah."

She was silent for a second. "The dream where you hit Daniel?"

"Yeah, that was really me in your head," he confirmed, "not a dream version of me."

She smiled slightly to herself, as she pictured Daniel flying across the room. It hadn’t been a dream. This man before her had literally conquered her demon for her. "Your ‘wife’ is really a hired actress, but Sandy told me that your mother runs your fan club. I take it she’s not really your mom?"

"No, but she is family," Jon answered. "The man who the world thinks is my father is actually a descendant of my brother. My brother knew what I was and took that secret to his grave. His children and their children have protected me and my secret for generations. Bongiovi is really the family name. My ‘mother’ is my great, great-niece by marriage, give or take a few ‘greats’."

"Is Jon your real first name?"

"Yes, actually, or rather the Italian version of John. Giovanni, was the name my mother gave me at birth, but I Americanized it when the Bongiovi family immigrated to the States. I have a few old friends that still call me Giovanni, though."

"By old friends, I guess you mean other vampires?"

"Yeah," he answered. "I’m sure you’ll meet them eventually."

"So, Richie’s not..."

He interrupted her, "No, Richie is human, but he’s the only human outside the family that knows my secret. Well, except for you."

She answered the unspoken question in his eyes. "I won’t tell anyone," she laughed, "besides who’d believe me?"

"No one," he answered, unnecessarily. "Are you done with the questions? Because there’s one more thing we need to discuss, and you’ve avoided the topic for this whole conversation."

She decided not to play dumb or avoid it any longer. "In my dream tonight, you said that you needed me. Why?"

He began to explain his need for a life-mate, then told her how he knew she was the one.

"Jon, I don’t think I’m ready for all this," she told him.

"What do you mean?"

"This is a big commitment, and I just met you a few days ago. I barely know you," she pointed out.

"But, you like me," he told her. "I know you do, and I wouldn’t lie to you and tell you that I’ve fallen in love with you either. We’ll just work with what we have and let it grow to something else."

She looked down at her hands clasped together on the table. "Jon, I don’t think I want to be a vampire. Drinking someone’s blood, well, eeww."

Jon smiled at her. "You wouldn’t have to drink just anyone’s blood. All you would be able to drink would be mine."

"And if anything ever happened to you?"

"You would die," he answered her. He was afraid that would be the point that would make her run away, but he didn’t want to lie to her anymore. "But, if anything happened to you, I would die too. Maybe not as quickly, but once I went rogue and started killing mercilessly, Kristoff would come after me. So, if anything were to happen to you, I would immediately go to Russia and make the job easier on him."

"If I allowed you to turn me into a vampire, what would happen?"

"There is a complicated procedure that has to be followed, but it involves me drinking your blood then letting you drink mine. Then there is a ceremony that can only be performed by one of my kind that will bind us together. There is no such thing as divorce in my world though, so you have to be sure before you agreed to it."

"And can I provide the balance you need without becoming a vampire and going through the ceremony?"

"I don’t know. No one’s ever tried to do it that way before. I would guess that you could for a relatively short amount of time, considering the life span of your average human versus the life span of your average vampire."

"I understand what you mean," she told him. "I’m 32, the average life span for a woman is, what....about 80? So I could provide you with ‘balance’ for about 50 more years."

"Or, you could become a vampire and provide that balance for several hundred years, but if you aren’t willing to become a vampire, I’ll take the extra 50 years or so that you could provide me with."

"And when I’m old and wrinkled?"

"I would still take care of you," he promised her.

"While you still looked 25 years old," she added.

"Yes," he replied.

Mac was silent for several moments, contemplating that existence. Wondering if once she was old and unattractive to him, if he would look for sexual pleasures somewhere else, and wondering if she would be able to handle that way of life.

Jon recognized the look of self doubt on her face. "We would in effect be married and I would honor my vows to you until the day you died."

She frowned at him. "Did you read my mind?" she asked, accusingly.

"Nope," he answered, "I read your face."

"If this, whatever it is, turned into love, would we get married in reality?" she asked him.

"We can, if that’s what you want," he answered. "But, the ceremony of my people is just as binding, if not more so, to me as a marriage certificate."

"But, then I would have to be a vampire."

"I can ask someone if the binding ceremony can be done between a vamp and a human," he told her. "And I’d have to ask if just you being in my life would provide the balance without us being bound together. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to. And trust me, there have been many times that I’ve regretted my decision to be turned. I was young, and didn’t like the thought of growing old. The promise of eternal youth lured me in, but I’ve learned there’s more to life than youth. And believe me, it’s no fun to watch your human friends die of old age. I’ve learned that living forever isn’t what it’s cracked up to be." Jon knew he could make a call to Kristoff and if his old friend couldn’t answer the questions for him, Kristoff would know someone who could give him the answers he needed.

Mac glanced at her watch. "Geez, I didn’t realize what time it was. It’s already 4am."

Jon stood up and walked over to her chair. Squatting down beside the chair, he said softly, "You should get some sleep, moglie mia. We have to catch a plane in a few hours."

She smiled, and he stood up with one of her small hands in his. Pulling her toward his bedroom, he ordered gently, "Come to bed, Mac."

Willingly, she followed him.

********************

The next morning, Jon woke slowly, then pulled a sleeping Mac tighter against him. He laid there for several minutes with her snuggled back against him, spoon fashion. It seemed strange to wake up after telling her his secret without a stake poised at his heart. He glanced at the clock by the bed. It was after 9am already, and they had to be at the airport by 11. They were flying on to Portland for a show that night. No hotel room in Portland though. When the show was over, they were boarding a plane again for San Francisco. The band was playing a two night gig there.

He hated to wake Mac, because she hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. They hadn’t made love; he had realized she was just too worn out, physically and mentally. And, as much as he was sure to enjoy a morning romp, they just didn’t have the time this morning.

"Mac," he growled, huskily, in her ear. "You need to wake up, tesoro mia. We have a plane to catch."

She came awake slowly, snuggling back against him before she stretched luxuriously. "Do we have to?" she asked, yawning.

"Yeah, sorry," he murmured softly against her ear, before kissing her neck. The urge was strong to bite her though. He hadn’t fed the night before; he’d been too concerned about losing Mac.

She rolled over in his arms and kissed him softly. "I need caffeine," she muttered. "I refuse to go anywhere without it."

"Ok, moglie mia," he smiled, "your wish is my command."

Reluctantly, he released her and rolled toward the phone. He dialed room service, as she got out of bed, Jon paused to watch her long legs as she walked across the room.

"Sir?" the person on the other end of the line asked.

"Oh," Jon snapped back to attention, "sorry. I need some coffee and breakfast sent up to my room."

"Make mine a Dr. Pepper," Mac called from the bathroom, "and I want cheese on my scrambled eggs, and wheat toast."

"Is that all?" he asked smiling.

"Yep."

He quickly relayed her order, then hung up the phone.

"Hey, Jon," she called, "wanna join me in the shower?"

"Hell yeah," he answered, quickly getting out of bed.

He stood up and felt light headed. Jon knew this had nothing to do with the wine he’d drank the night before. He needed to feed, but after Mac’s statement last night about drinking blood he wasn’t sure how she would feel about being his meal, and he didn’t want to push his luck with her acceptance of what he was. Deciding not to say anything, and just find his meal else where, he walked to the bathroom door.

"Of course," he spoke louder so she’d hear him over the spray of the shower, "if I joined you then who would let the room service waiter in?" He knew he’d never be able to resist biting her if he made love to her.

"You have a point," she answered him, "and I do need my caffeine."

"Besides," he pointed out, "I don’t have time to make love to you properly."

"Oh, well," she laughed, "when ya put it that way, don’t join me. I’ve gotten used to how you do it properly. You’ve spoiled me."

"Later, then," he promised. Of course, he had no idea when he’d find time for them to be alone until they got to San Francisco, but he’d do his very best. Over the years, Jon had gotten really good at finding quiet concealed places in a venue. Maybe his dressing room would have a comfortable couch.

He was still contemplating how to get Mac alone when the room service waitress arrived. Jon was just about to put her in a thrall and feed, when Mac walked out of the bedroom wearing his robe.

"Oh great, caffeine’s here," she exclaimed.

Jon just signed the check and let the waitress go on her way. He couldn’t bring himself to feed in front of Mac either. No need to bring to mind what he was.

He sat down at the table across from her and sipped at his coffee. Jon hadn’t bothered to order anything to eat; that wasn’t the kind of nourishment he needed. After finishing the cup, he announced he was going to go take a shower while she finished eating. His hunger was so strong he could hear her heart beating, and he had to get out of there.

Later, after they had made it through the airport and were about to board the plane, Richie stopped him on the tarmac.

"Go on, Mac," he told her, "I’ll be right there."

Once she had walked away, Richie asked, "What’s wrong with you, Kidd? You look really pale."

"I haven’t fed since night before last," Jon told him. "It’s starting to catch up to me."

"Why?" Richie asked, concerned.

"I didn’t think about it last night. All I could think about was losing Mac and getting drunk. Then this morning, I just couldn’t feed from or in front of Mac."

"So, you still haven’t told her everything, just enough to make up with her?"

"No," Jon replied, "I told her everything, but she wasn’t comfortable with the idea of being a vamp and drinking someone’s blood. So, I didn’t ask if I could bite her."

Jon swayed slightly, and Richie grabbed his arm to steady him. "Jon, you have to feed soon."
"I know that," Jon snapped, "I’ve been doing this for a while now, but I’ll be fine for the short flight to Portland, then I’ll worry about feeding."

"Are you sure?"

"I’ll be fine," Jon assured him, turning to board the plane.

Richie silently fell into step behind him, intending to help him up the stairs if needed. Jon made it on the plane and to a seat under his own power, but Richie kept an eye on him the entire flight.

When the plane landed in Portland, both Jon and Richie were relieved that they made it through security and into the waiting van relatively quickly. They arrived at the arena after a short drive, but Richie didn’t like the way Jon looked. He watched his friend put his arm around Mac and lead her into the backstage entrance and realized it was probably Jon using the action to steady himself more than as an affectionate gesture.

Jon was barely able to make it to his dressing room. He was able to admit to himself that he probably wouldn’t have made it without his arm around Mac. Richie had already noticed he wasn’t quite himself, but no one else had. He had been careful to act as normal as possible not only for Mac’s benefit but also for the other band and crew members. He had to feed and soon.
Richie followed closely behind Jon and Mac until they reached Jon’s dressing room. When Jon tried to send him on his way, he pushed past him and entered the room. He glanced at Mac before his gaze slid back to Jon. Richie frowned as he watched his friend almost collapse in a chair by the door.

"Jon," Mac gasped, and ran to him. "Are you okay?"

"I’m fine," Jon answered her, weakly, as he slumped in the chair looking anything but fine.

"Tell her Jon," Richie said glaring at his friend, "or I will."

"Tell me what?"

Richie looked at Jon and raised one eyebrow in question, waiting.

Jon glared at Richie. "Fuck you, Sambora."

"You keep asking...," Richie grinned, leaving the statement hanging in the air.

"Tell me what?" Mac insisted. "What’s wrong with you, Jon?"

Jon gave her a blank stare before turning back to glare menacingly at Richie, who only gave Jon a mutinous look. The singer knew his friend would tell Mac if he didn’t, because Richie thought he was protecting him. After several moments of rebellious silence, Jon finally relented. "I haven’t fed since night before last," he told Mac, "and I need blood. Badly."

Mac frowned at the two men. "Richie get the hell out of here," she ordered.

Richie gave her a blank stare. He had never been ordered out of Jon’s room by anyone but his friend, and he wasn’t inclined to obey her orders now. "Excuse me?" he questioned, raising one eyebrow.

"You heard me," Mac answered. "This is sure to get personal, and I’d rather it be private."

Jon groaned weakly as a hunger pang tore though his body. He could hear both their heartbeats and his fangs lengthened in response. He jerked his head toward the door. "Go ahead, Rich. I’ll catch up with you later."

Reluctantly, Richie headed for the door. Opening the door, he turned toward them to warn Mac, "I can assume that you won’t hurt him while he’s weak, right?"

Jon’s gaze met his friend’s, and Jon knew that Richie was thinking of Cecilia’s betrayal. "I’ll be fine," Jon assured him, "Mac wouldn’t hurt me. Would you moglie mia?"

"Of course not," Mac answered, her tone announcing how offended she was at Richie’s suggestion.

Oblivious to her protests, Richie warned menacingly, "If you do, there’s nowhere you can hide from me," before he walked out the door.

Chapter Nine

2007-07-22T12:13:00.000-05:00

For several hours, Mac alternated between pacing and sitting fuming, but mostly she was angry at herself for not even thinking to ask if he was married. The thought that he belonged to someone else bothered her more than she was willing to admit. That body, that charm, that smile, and those amazing blue eyes all belonged to another woman. She tried hard not to even let the image of that fantastic ass enter her head.

Finally in exhaustion, she gave in and went to bed. Carrying her laptop with her, she placed it on the table by the bed. Once again she opened the media player and put on that same play list. Turning the volume down low, she listened as she changed into something to sleep in and climbed into bed. She left it playing as she fell asleep.

In his own room, Jon paced also and even looked in the mini bar, but after deciding it would take entirely too many of those little bottles to accomplish a good drunken binge, he called room service and ordered a good bottle of wine. He’d drink the whole damn bottle if that’s what it took.

He was on his second glass when there was a knock on his door and the scent of Richie’s cologne drifted to him.

"Come on in, Rich," he said, resigned, "might as well join the pity party."

Richie walked in the door and after seeing Jon slouching in a chair by the window, he asked, "What pity party?"

"It’s over," Jon answered, "Mac thinks I’m married and she’s pissed."

"You told her part of the story, but not the part about the wife being an actress?"

"I didn’t get to tell her anything," Jon replied, testily. "Her friend, Sandy, who’s a fan of ours, told her I was married."

Jon got another wine glass from the tray the room service waiter had brought and poured some wine for Richie.

Richie took it, nodding his thanks. "So why didn’t you just tell her the whole story?"

"Oh, yeah," Jon said sarcastically, "But, Baby, I’m not really married, that was just for good PR. The woman the world thinks I’m married to is just a hired actress. Geez, Rich, that sounds like a lame excuse even to me." He took a big gulp of wine. He wasn’t even noticing how well it tasted, that it was actually very good, very expensive wine. How it tasted wasn’t the point of the night. To get very drunk was the point. Drunk enough that he could forget that the woman, the life mate, he so desperately needed was pissed off enough to leave him. She wouldn’t even talk to him.

"You’re right," Richie agreed, "it does sound like a lame attempt to cover your ass."

"I’m so screwed," Jon said, shaking his head and slouching further down in his chair. "There’s a stake in Kristoff’s possession with my name on it."

Richie leaned forward, sitting his wine glass on the table. "What the hell are you talking about, Jon? Why would Kristoff want to stake you? He’s your friend."

"Exactly why he would stake me," Jon told him. Then went on to explain the details about the need for a life mate that he had left out of his earlier explanation.

Richie listened with rapt interest. "Why didn’t you tell me all this earlier?"

"I didn’t wanna worry you."

"When were you gonna tell me that in six years you could go crazy? When you were ripping my throat out and sucking me dry?" Richie asked, his voice rising with each word.

"Focus, Rich," Jon said, dryly. "That is not the current problem."

"No," Richie said, just as dryly, "it’s the six-year, long term problem."

"I have a stake in my room that I could give you to stake me with on my 450th birthday, if that would make you feel better," Jon said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Like I, a mere human, could ever take you out," Richie replied, using a healthy dose of sarcasm himself.

"You could if you caught me sleeping," Jon told him.

"You mean like Cecilia did? I’m sure I’d have about the same amount of luck she did."

They were both silent for several seconds, but then Richie spoke up. "I can’t believe we are sitting here calmly sipping wine and contemplating me, your best friend, staking you in your sleep."

"You might be sipping, but I’m gulping it," Jon responded. "Trust me, I’m not exactly enjoying the thought of my demise myself."

"Why are we even entertaining the thought?" Richie asked. "We should be trying to figure out a way to get her back. You need to turn on that Bon Jovi charm."

"The charm’s not gonna work if she won’t even talk to me," Jon pointed out.

"So you flash her that smile, the one that makes all the female fans cream their jeans. And use that look in those blue eyes that makes all their panties drop," Richie told him, smiling.

"How poetic of you," Jon responded dryly.

"It’s the songwriter in me," Richie laughed.

"I know Mac, not well, but well enough to know that all of that shit won’t work as long as she thinks I’m married."

"Well, then somehow you’ve got to make her see the truth."

"Thank you, Mr. Obvious," Jon said sarcastically, "I hadn’t thought of that."

"So, then," Richie grinned, "what are you doing here?"

"Isn’t it obvious?" Jon quipped, pouring his fourth glass of wine. "I’m getting drunk." He took another huge gulp of wine to demonstrate his point, tipping his glass toward Richie before he drank.

Richie started to rise from his chair. "Well, good luck with that, Jon," he said caustically, "let me know how that turns out for ya."

Incredulously, Jon looked at his friend. "Where the fuck are you going?"

"Well, obviously you don’t need my help to get drunk," Richie pointed out, "since you won’t listen to any of my suggestions, and you’re only answer is to get drunk, I’ll be going."

"Sit your ass down, old, wise, jackass," Jon said sarcastically.

"You’ve decided to listen, then?" Richie asked.

"I’ll listen when you have another flash of brilliance. In the mean time, I’ll keep drinking," Jon grinned. Looking pointedly at Richie’s empty glass, he asked, "Need another one?" At Richie's nod, he poured his friend another glass.

"To encourage a flash of brilliance," Richie suggested, "why don’t you tell me exactly what happened."

"There’s not much to tell," Jon responded. "I went to her room to ask why she didn’t come to the show. She said she was pissed, but I could see it was more hurt than anything. I almost slipped into her head to see what had hurt her, but..."

Richie interrupted him, "Whoa, whoa, back up. Since when can you slip into her head?"

"Since we slept together," Jon explained, "I found out quite by accident."

"Well then, why the fuck are you just sittin’ here? If you can walk around in her head, hell, Jon, I think it’s time you stretched your legs."

"I think I need my sunglasses," Jon laughed, while pouring his fifth glass of wine, "that flash of brilliance almost blinded me."

"Well, before you take your little stroll, I think you need a game plan," Richie informed him.

"I thought I’d just let her see the truth."

"The truth is good, but it would depend on your perception of the truth."

"Perception of the truth? How many damn perceptions are there to it? I hired an actress to pretend to be my wife. There’s not much more to it than that," Jon replied.

"Ah, but why did you do it? That’s the question you’ve got to come up with a good answer for. Because trust me...she’s gonna ask."

"For good PR," Jon answered, shrugging.

"Jon, I’m your friend, and that answer will work with me," Richie told him, "but it’s not gonna work with her. Come on Jon, you and I both know the real answer to the question."

"Since you know the answer," Jon replied, pouring himself another glass of wine, "why don’t you share it with me, oh, Insightful One."

"Jon, it’s me Richie, the only human on the planet that knows, I mean, really knows you. I know how you think, what motivates you. You can fool some of the people some of the time, hell, you can even fool yourself, but you can’t fool me." Richie watched as Jon took another big gulp of wine. "You just don’t wanna have to admit that the great Jon Bon Jovi was wrong."

"I prefer the term, mistaken," Jon said dryly, before taking another gulp of wine.

"You would," Richie laughed.

"Fuck you, Sambora."

"You keep asking, and I keep having to tell ya, no," Richie said, as he stood up.

Jon only glared at him.

"I’ll be going now," Richie told him, smiling. "I think my work here is done."

"Yeah, you better go, before...," Jon said to his friend’s retreating back.

Richie waved a hand in the air. "Yeah, I know...before you rip my throat out and suck me dry. That threat’s gettin’ old, Jon."

"But, I don’t ever threaten it," Jon called out, as his friend closed the door.

Jon finished his glass of wine and poured another, finishing it off in two big gulps. He started to get up and go to bed, but he swayed slightly and sat back down. Good. He was drunk. That was what he’d been trying to do after all.

Then he remembered the ‘walk’ he was going to take. Leaning back in the chair, with his head resting on the back, he closed his eyes and reached out to Mac. He could hear her crying before he found her. She was in an all white bedroom, standing facing a bed. The windows of the room were open and the gossamer curtains were billowing into the room from a strong wind. He could hear CCR’s Bad Moon Rising playing somewhere. Where was the music coming from? Jon stood silently in the doorway, behind Mac, his gaze drifting around the room. What he saw when his eyes fell on the bed froze his blood. He saw himself making love to a faceless woman, while Mac stood there crying.

"Mac," he said softly, "Moglie mia, amore mia, what is this?"

"Go away," she cried.

Jon realized what this dream was about, and strode to her, pulling her into his arms. "That is not my wife. I don’t have a wife."

"Yes, you do," she said tearfully against his chest.

Tenderly, he stroked her hair with one hand, and her back with the other. "No, I don’t. I have a hired actress that plays my wife on occasion. I’m not really married."

"Why would you pretend to be married?"

He kissed her forehead. "For good PR. I thought a wife and kids would make me look like the all-American boy from Jersey. And, I mistakenly thought that it would make the groupies back off a little."

"So, why pretend? Why not just find a real woman to marry?" she asked.

"Because I hadn’t found you yet, tesoro mia," he answered, smiling down at her.

"Is that the truth?" she asked, sniffling.

"Yes, I swear." He heard Bob Seger singing now. He recognized the song, it had always been one of his favorites. Looking back at the bed, he realized it was empty now. "Dance with me," he murmured.

She started to sway with him, and he began to sing along with Bob.

I’ll take my chances, Babe, I’ll risk it all
I’ll win your love or I’ll take the fall
I’ve made my mind up, Girl, it’s meant to be
Someday, Lady, you’ll accomp’ny me
Someday, Lady, you’ll accomp’ny me
It’s written down somewhere, it’s got to be
High above me, flyin’ wild and free
Oh, but someday, Lady, you’ll accomp’ny me.

Jon held her face in his hands and kissed her gently. His thumbs stroking the velvety softness of her cheeks. "I need you, moglie mia. More than you could ever know. You’re as important to me as breathing."

"You mean you want me," she corrected, a catch in her voice, "it’s a sex thing."

"See I told you, it was more than you could ever know," he smiled down at her. "I need you, Mac. When the time is right, I’ll explain it all to you, but I need you." He unbuttoned a few if the buttons of his shirt and pulled it to the side. "See this mark?" he asked her. When she nodded, he continued, "It appeared after we made love the first time. It’s what told me how much I needed you. No other woman will do for me. It’s got to be you."

"You’re drunk," she accused.

"Yes, I am," he confirmed, his speech slightly slurred. "But that’s what tends to happen when you drink a whole bottle of wine trying to drown your sorrows."

"And what sorrows were you trying to drown?"

"You wouldn’t talk to me, moglie mia, and the hurt in your eyes almost killed me. Knowing I had put it there," he shook his head. "I wanted to ask Richie to drive a stake through my heart right then."

"Jon," she began.

But he interrupted her, "No, Mac, I hurt you and that hurts me. Can you forgive me; can we get past this?"

"You don’t belong to another woman?"

"No. I belong to you," he said before kissing her forehead tenderly. "Just you," he whispered, his lips brushing her face as he spoke.

"Make love to me," she pleaded.

"Not here," he said, looking at the bed with a grimace. "Come to me, tesoro mia. Come to my room." Regretfully, he let his arms fall to his sides and took a step back from her. "Come to my bed, moglie mia," he said softly, before he withdrew from her dream.

He opened his eyes in his room. He hadn’t wanted to make love to Mac in a dream world, in a bed where she had pictured him with another woman. No, Jon wanted to make love to her in reality, in his bed. Somehow, he knew her skin wouldn’t have smelled or tasted the same in her dream world, and suddenly he wanted to have her smell envelope him and have her taste in the back of his mouth. After several minutes, he reached out to her again, whispering in her head, Come to me, Mac.

Mac woke up slowly, right after Jon left her dream. She lay there in the darkness for several minutes. Was that wishful thinking or one of her dreams that came true? How stupid to hire an actress to pretend to be his wife. That had to be her subconscious working over time to try and come up with a way for him to not be married. In her dream, he had said he didn’t belong to another woman, that he belonged to her. Did he really?

Briefly, she felt the barest brush of butterfly wings in her head, then Jon’s voice. Come to me, Mac.

She sat straight up in the bed. What the hell? No.

In his room, Jon stood up from the chair. She had answered him! No human had ever been able to answer him before. It had startled him so bad, he had withdrawn from her head. He started to go back, when suddenly he felt the oddest sensation. Almost as if his mind had been brushed by a butterfly’s wings, and he realized he wasn’t alone in his head anymore. Mac? He heard her gasp, and suddenly he was alone again.

How the hell was he going to explain this?

Chapter Eight

2007-07-17T23:11:00.000-05:00

A few hours later, Jon lay holding a sleeping Mac in his arms. He had been thinking about how lucky he was to have finally found her. Years ago, he had ran into a close friend of his in a bar in New Mexico. Jon had been suspicious of Toby, because he hadn’t been acting like himself, and there was a wildness in his eyes that Jon had never seen before. His friend had only been 460 years old then, but Toby had never found his life-mate. The next evening when Jon had woke up, he heard the talk going around town. The bartender had found one of the saloon girls in the alley with her throat ripped out. The townspeople had been sure a wild animal had attacked her and were on the look out for a wolf or other such creature, but Jon had known that Toby had killed the woman. Staking his friend had been one of the hardest things he had ever had to do, but he couldn’t stand by while Toby killed indiscriminately. Lightly, Jon kissed Mac’s forehead. He knew without the woman in his arms, Kristoff or one of his other friends might have to do to him, what he had to do to Toby.

She stirred slightly in his arms, and he wondered what she might be dreaming about. Easily, he slid into her head. At first, he just stood by watching, just a casual observer of her dream. She was dancing with a handsome dark-haired man, laughing up at the man, but then they walked up to a bar to get a drink. He stood eavesdropping on their conversation, only slightly jealous that his life-mate was dreaming about another man.

After they had placed their drink orders and the bartender had moved away, the man turned to Mac and said softly, “You shouldn’t have worn that blouse tonight, it only accentuates how big your chest is.”

“Daniel, please don’t start,” Mac told him, trying hard not to lose her temper.

“Really, Mac, it’s quite ridiculous looking, it makes you look so top heavy that you’ll fall over any minute.”

Jon had heard enough. He couldn’t stand by while the man, obviously Daniel, inflicted more emotional abuse. He had arrogantly thought that he had banished all the hateful things this man had told Mac with his earlier lovemaking, but apparently not, if she was dreaming about it.

Jon stepped up to the bar. Standing next to Mac, he leaned toward her and asked, “Could I have this dance?”

Mac looked up at him, her eyes wide with shock. “Jon, what are you doing here?”

“A damsel needed rescuing. My damsel. Where else would I be?”

Daniel stepped around Mac. “The lady is with me,” he said angrily.

“Not for long,” Jon answered, arrogance in his tone.

Shoving Jon back, Daniel glared at him furiously and ordered, “Get lost.”

Jon drew back his right arm and slammed his fist into Daniel’s jaw. It would’ve been more satisfying if this hadn’t been Mac’s dream. But since in reality he would probably never meet the man, this was about as close as he could get. He watched Daniel go flying across the room, and almost laughed at the enormity of Mac’s sub-conscious imagination. Casually, as if he hadn’t just sent a man flying, he turned back to Mac and pulled her into his arms.

Mac looked up at him and smiled. “The music’s stopped.”

“Then I’ll sing to you,” he told her, grinning. Pulling her tighter against him, he began to sing, “Every time I look at you, baby I see something new. It takes me higher than before, it makes me want you more. I don’t wanna sleep tonight, dreaming’s just a waste of time. When I look at what my life’s been coming to...I’m all about lovin’ you.”

She laughed up at him. “You’re such a romantic.”

“You bring it out in me,” he responded.

“Tell me all your secrets,” she replied. “I want to know everything about you.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” he told her, seriously. “You might not like my secrets.”

“I like everything I know so far,” she answered impishly.

Jon almost told her the one secret he feared telling her most, just to see how she would react in her dream, but stopped himself. “Is that so?” he asked instead.

“Yeah,” she replied, “and you’re by far the best lover I’ve ever had. Although, I should warn you, your only competition is the man you sent flying across the room.”

He grinned arrogantly at her. “The best lover? Then why are you dreaming about another man?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Am I dreaming?”

Was there any rules about intruding on someone’s dream? Should he have mentioned to her that she was dreaming?

“I think you are,” he nodded, “while you’re laying in my arms.”

Mac’s eyes widened in shock, and she pulled away from him. Jon wisely decided to withdraw from her mind, and lay there feigning sleep when she awoke abruptly. He heard her gasp echo through the quiet hotel suite.

He pretended that her gasp had woke him. He jerked her tight against him as if awakening from sleep, and asked huskily, “Mac, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I was just dreaming,” she answered, snuggling against his chest.

“A bad dream?”

“It started out that way, but surprisingly enough it was turning quite interesting,” she murmured sleepily.

“Go back to sleep, Sweetheart,” he told her, smiling in the dark. “I’ll fight your demons for you.”

“You already have,” she told him, punctuating her statement with a big yawn.

Jon smiled as he nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. He fell asleep with that same satisfied smile on his face, maybe he had finally banished her demon.

*************************

The next morning, Jon awoke to find himself alone in the bed and after a few minutes realized he was alone in the hotel suite as well. Mac must have went back to her own room. He swore softly; he had hoped to continue where they had left off the night before. Why did she have to be such an early riser? Hopefully, she hadn’t noticed how much younger he looked in sleep. He rolled over and called room service. He needed coffee and then he intended to go to the hotel gym. Jon had been neglecting his daily work outs since Mac had joined the tour. His mind had been absorbed with her, and he’d been neglecting a lot of things. Richie found him in the gym running on the treadmill.

“Hey Bro,” Richie said in greeting as he walked in the door. “So, why didn’t you and the little woman come work out together?”

“She wasn’t in her room when I called to see if she wanted to join me,” Jon answered.

“That’s probably because she was down here working out,” Richie told him. “At least if that was about twenty minutes ago.”

“Yeah,” Jon said, as he pushed a button to speed up the treadmill.

“I saw her down here when I came to see if you were working out. I was going to join you this morning.”

Jon laughed. “You? Join me for a work out? Has hell frozen over then?”

“Not exactly,” Richie answered.

Jon recognized the tone in Richie’s voice. “So what was the fight about this time?”

“She told some damn reporter that I cheated on her. My publicist called me about it this morning. It’s all over the gossip rags.”

“Rich, don’t worry about it. We’ll deal with it,” Jon assured his friend.

“I just don’t understand why she’d lie about this shit,” Richie said. “I loved her Jon. I never cheated on her.”

“I’ll tell you why she’s lying,” Jon told him, even as he continued jogging. “Her career’s in the toilet. Hell, the only reason she’s had any kind of a career the last few years is because of the loyalty of our fans. They’ve went to see her movies and watched that stupid television show she was in because she was married to you. Now that she’s filed for divorce our fans are showing their loyalty to you, and she hoped to get some sympathy by making you look like the bad guy.”

“Jon,” Richie began.

Jon interrupted him, “Trust me, Rich. I’m the professional PR person in the room. That’s what she’s up to, and the people who care about you won’t believe it.”

With his hand closed into a fist, Jon raised it into the air. Richie didn’t hesitate; he touched his own fist to Jon’s.

“Okay, enough about my shitty love life,” Richie grinned, “how’s yours going?”

“Honestly,” Jon shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?”

“Eventually, I’m going to have to tell her my secret, and I don’t think she’ll handle it well.”

“Why? Because Cecilia didn’t handle it well?” Richie asked. “Hell, Jon, not all women would react like that.”

“And there’s the little fact that she’s a reporter,” Jon pointed out. “There’s no guarantee that she won’t put it in her article.”

“Sure there is,” Richie told him. “If she put it in her article or told anyone they’d think she was crazy.”

“You didn’t think I was crazy when I told you,” Jon pointed out.

“I was falling down drunk when you told me,” Richie said, chuckling, “and if you’ll recall I made you prove it to me. And I’m sure you’re not going to show those fangs to everyone she tells to prove she’s telling the truth.”

Jon stepped off the treadmill. “You’re absolutely right. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’re too concerned with telling her, and you’ll come up with any excuse to keep from having to do it.”

“Did you see that?” Jon asked, sounding very serious.

“What?”

“That flash of brilliance,” Jon laughed.

Richie smiled and shrugged. “I wouldn’t say brilliance. It’s just that I know you better than any other human on the planet.”

Richie went off to find some breakfast, and Jon finished his work out. When he got back to his room, he had some phone calls to make; the business of running a music management company and all the charitable organizations he was involved in just wouldn’t wait.

Two hours later, Jon and the rest of the band members were at the venue for sound check. Mac sat alone in the back of the arena observing the various crew members going about their duties and the guys doing more goofing off than actual work. Scribbling notes, she caught herself laughing at their occasional shenanigans. For the most part, David, Tico, Richie and even Hugh laughed and joked, but every once in awhile Jon would get them to play a few notes of a song when he wasn’t joining in the fun. She realized they were really just big kids who occasionally pretended to be adults and decided to use that line in her article.

With her head bent, she was writing notes in a small notebook, when someone sat down in the seat next to her on the end of the row. Looking up, her gaze met Jon’s light blue eyes.

“Ya’ll done?” she asked, smiling.

He leaned back in the chair and propped his feet on the seat in front of him. “Almost. Just got a few more things to work out. Obie’s working on a small sound problem.”

“Shouldn’t you be helping him?”

“Maybe,” he answered, lacing his fingers together across his muscled abdomen, “but I’d rather be here with you.”

“Really?” she asked, giving him a mischievous grin. He watched as she laid one hand on his knee, then sexily walked her fingers up his thigh. “I’d rather be somewhere else with you. Like back in your hotel suite.”

He caught her wandering hand in one of his. “I’ve created a monster,” he laughed, “don’t start something here that you can’t finish.”

She let out a throaty chuckle that almost made him squirm in his chair. “We can finish this later, right?”

“Not ‘til after the show,” he told her, “I’ll be way too busy until then. And we need to talk.”

“About?”

“Us,” he answered, “there’s a few things I need to tell you.”

“Like what?”

“Just some stuff,” he hedged.

“I was thinking about going back to the hotel when you sat down,” she told him. “Will I see you before the show?”

“I’m probably going to be here the rest of the day, but stop by the dressing room when you get here tonight,” he told her. He leaned over and kissed her lightly. “I’ll see you then,” he said, as he stood up.

Mac caught her self staring at his ass as he walked away. Shaking her head to dispel images of the night before, she gathered her things and then left the venue. She walked the few blocks back to the hotel, enjoying the sights and sounds of the city.

She was walking in the door of her suite when her cell phone started ringing. Tossing her things down on the table by the door, she started digging in her purse. She finally came up with the phone. She flipped it open and answered it without even looking to see who it was.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Girlfriend, how’s it going?” Sandy asked.

“Hey, Sandy,” Mac greeted enthusiastically. “Everything’s okay. The guys are really nice, and you were right, they’re all gorgeous.”

“I told you,” Sandy quipped. “Have you gotten me a pair of Richie’s underwear yet?”

“Uh,” Mac grinned, “I thought you were kidding about that.”

“You know me,” Sandy said, seriously, “do you really think I was kidding?”

“No,” Mac laughed. “But I’ll be honest with you, I have no intention of asking him for a pair of underwear for you.”

“Who said anything about asking?”

“I’ll get you an autograph,” Mac assured her.

“And are you getting along okay with the guys?” Sandy asked casually.

“Yeah,” Mac answered, “although, at first Jon was a complete ass.”

“Really?” Sandy was surprised. “That doesn’t sound like him. He’s usually very charming for interviews and such.”

“We’ve come to an agreement,” Mac said, blushing. Thank goodness, Sandy couldn’t see it.

Unfortunate for Mac, Sandy recognized the tone of voice. “You’re blushing!” she crowed. “You’ve got it bad for the rock star. Admit it.”

“Yeah,” Mac answered, softly. “He’s pretty amazing, and he’s hot too.”

“And married,” Sandy added.

“What?” Mac choked out.

“Didn’t you know? I thought I told you that,” Sandy replied. “Tico and Jon are married, but David and Richie just went through really nasty divorces.”

While her friend rambled on, Mac started to fume. How could he talk about a relationship between the two of them, and not mention that he was married? Why the hell didn’t she think to ask him that question before she slept with him?

“Mac? Are you listening to me?”

“Uh,” she answered, “no, sorry, Sandy. My mind wandered. I’ve got lots of work to do for the article. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” She hung up the phone before Sandy even had time to answer.

What the hell had she been thinking? A married man for crying out loud!

*************************

Mac spent the rest of the day pacing the floor of her suite. At one point, she went to her laptop and opened her media player, put on one of her favorite play lists, a mix of country and old rock and roll, and sat down in a chair by the floor to ceiling windows to fume. She had sat there for so long that the room was dark, the only light provided by the twinkling lights of Seattle and the screen saver of her laptop. Sitting in the dark, she heard Pat Benatar’s voice on her laptop.

Your love is like a tidal wave, spinning over my head.
Drownin’ me in your promises, better left unsaid.
You’re the right kind of sinner, to release my inner fantasies.
The invincible winner, and you know that you were born to be

You’re a heartbreaker
Dream maker, love taker
Don’t you mess around with me.

Leave it to Pat to pretty much hit the nail on the head. Mac realized she was so angry because she had let herself start falling for him. Hell, there was no let to it. She’d really had no choice in the matter. He was the ‘right kind of sinner to release her inner fantasies’ and most certainly ‘a heartbreaker’. Pat was still singing on her laptop.

Your love has set my soul on fire, burning out of control
You taught me the ways of desire, now it’s taking it’s toll.

The ‘toll’ was falling in love with a married man, and Mac didn’t want to be involved with a man with a wife.

“So, as Pat said, Bon Jovi ‘don’t you mess around with me’,” she announced to the empty room.

‘Pat’ answered her with...

You’re a heartbreaker,
Dream maker, love taker
Don’t you mess around... no, no, no.

In aggravation, she closed the media player on her laptop. Briefly, she wondered how late it had gotten, but the knock on the door between her suite and Jon’s answered the question for her. It was late enough that the show was over.

Mentally bracing herself for the battle to come, she announced, “Come in, Bon Jovi.”

Jon opened the door and saw her sitting in the dark, silhouetted against the lights of the city. She had her legs crossed at the ankles, her feet comfortably propped in another chair in front of her. “You didn’t come to the show,” he said softly, as he walked toward her, “you feeling okay, Dallas?”

“Nope,” she said harshly.

“What’s wrong?”

She smiled grimly in the dark. “I’m pissed.”

Jon started a check list in his head of all the things she could be pissed about. He didn’t think she could’ve found out he was a vampire between that afternoon and now. But, if she was angry why wasn’t she pacing the floor and waving her arms in the air like he had seen her do before? This wasn’t the explosion of her temper he had gotten used to. No, this was a quiet, controlled anger, laced with pain. Something had hurt her. He wanted to slip into her head and see what it was, so he could fix it, but her next words stopped him.

“There are a few details that you left out,” she said coldly. “Like, the fact that you have a wife.” She tossed the last word at him like an insult. A dirty word.

He noticed her laptop sitting in front of her. Had she ‘googled’ him? No, then she wouldn’t have just said wife, she would have said kids as well. How had she found out? A one word answer popped into his head. Sandy. He had been planning on telling her the truth tonight. The whole truth. He wanted to clear the air and keep no more little secrets, dirty or otherwise, but now the truth sounded like a lie to cover his ass. Even to him.

“You’re quiet. What? Are you scrambling for an excuse?” she asked angrily, but Jon could hear the underlying pain in her voice.

“No,” he answered softly. “I was trying to decide whether or not you would believe the truth.”

“The truth? Do you even understand the concept?”

Ouch. He winced in the dark, as that barb hit home. “Can I turn on a light, so we can discuss this?”

“No,” she answered, icily. “I don’t wanna have to look at you.”

He winced again. She was real handy with the barbs tonight. “Mac, I’ve never lied to you,” he tried.

“Technically, no,” she told him, “but a lie by omission is still a lie. So, what else have you left out?”

He could tell by the tone of her voice that she didn’t just mean his secrets, but she was also having second thoughts about the compliments he had given her. “I meant everything I’ve ever said to you, Mac, I swear.” He ran his fingers through his already rumpled hair. What could he say?

“Get out,” she ordered.

“I don’t wanna leave you like this,” he told her.

“It’s your fault I’m like this,” she said angrily.

“Mac,” he pleaded, “we need to talk about this. Please.”

At the tone in his voice, she almost relented. It was a good thing she hadn’t let him turn on a light, otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to resist the look on his face.

“Jon, just get out,” she told him, her voice cracking slightly.

The tears he heard in her voice shook his resolve. “All right,” he regretfully agreed, “but we’re going to talk about this. Maybe not tonight. But we will talk about this.”

He turned and walked out the door, but Mac didn’t watch him go. Her eyes never left the beautiful view of the city outside her window.

Chapter Seven

2007-07-14T21:28:00.000-05:00

A few hours later, Mac sat in her own hotel room in Seattle. She had decided to work on her article a little before she met Jon in his room for dinner. Typing away on her laptop, she was trying hard not to daydream about the sexy man in the room next door. Mac had been quite surprised when they arrived at the hotel and Jon had discreetly requested adjoining suites for the two of them. Not that she was going to complain. The suite she was in was very nice, with a bedroom and separate sitting room, and the bathroom was just spectacular. Her mind drifted to the sexy man in question. Was he in his suite?

Somehow, she found herself staring at the door that connected their suites. Was he serious about seeing if they could have a relationship? Why would someone like him want to have a relationship with her? She laid one hand on the door and immediately images began to flash across her brain, quickly gaining speed from a jerky slow motion to a full speed movie. A woman dressed like a maid smiling at Jon, him smiling back, the maid walking over to him like some sort of zombie, Jon kissing on her neck, all flashed across her mind’s eye. The only thing in common with the previous vision was the feeling of absolute ecstacy. Jon kissing another woman, after just proclaiming to her that he wants to try a relationship? Or, was he nibbling on the woman’s neck like he had teased her about earlier?

She stumbled to a nearby chair and almost fell into it. Her visions always left her weak and dizzy for a few minutes. It had always bothered Mac that there was never any sound with these visions, and she didn’t know if what she was seeing was past, present or future. She always had to just muddle through and just try to figure out what they meant.

So, she began to try to muddle through. Were these just women from Jon’s past? It would have to be the recent past, judging from his appearance in the vision. What did it all mean? She didn’t want to keep seeing him with other women, but then she never saw what she wanted to see in these visions. Hell, she would prefer not to see them at all.

***********************

Jon walked away from the broom closet feeding feeling guilty, feeling like he had betrayed Mac in some way. Why? He had to feed, and if Mac were a converted vampire he would have to in turn feed her. Hunting and feeding were facts of life for him. So, why then, did it feel like a betrayal of his life-mate?

Shaking his head at the confusion, he walked back into his suite. He had left Richie there a few minutes ago to go feed, and predictably, Richie was waiting on his return.

"So," Richie grinned at him, his guitar still in his lap, "how’d it go?"

"Same as usual."

"Except, you didn’t have sex with her. You weren’t gone long enough," Richie commented.

"Unless of course...naaaa....that would just be sad."

"Knock it off, Rich, I haven’t had sex with another woman since I met Mac."

"Whoa. Really?" Richie was surprised. "That’s telling, isn’t it?"

"Even more telling, though, is that I felt guilty after feeding," Jon said, shaking his head at his own foolishness. "Explain that one... old, wise, jackass."

"But Jon, you have to feed."

"That’s exactly my point." Jon walked over to the chair he had vacated earlier, picked up his guitar and sat down. He was waiting on Richie to give him some sort of pearl of wisdom. Richie was, remarkably enough, able to come up with one from time to time. With his guitar in his lap, he looked at his friend with expectation etched on his face.

"What?" Richie asked him, smiling.

"I’m waiting on that occasional flash of brilliance to happen and you to say something genius-like," Jon explained.

"Genius-like? You think I’m a genius when it comes to women?"

"No, you’re more like an idiot savant, but you do occasionally get it right."

"You do realize, of course, that isn’t the politically correct term, right? They’re called autistic savants now," Richie patiently explained.

"See, " Jon said, pointing at Richie triumphantly, "genius-like. But, unfortunately, that flash of brilliance had nothing to do with women or the current problem."

"Hey," Richie laughed, "it’s not like I have control over’em."

Jon’s laughter was interrupted by a knock on the door between his suite and Mac’s. "Come on in, Mac," he called out. Richie raised a questioning eyebrow, but Jon ignored him. Instead his eyes were on the beautiful woman who stuck her head into the room.

Mac hesitantly stepped into the room. "I can come back."

"No, it’s okay. We were just working on something," Jon told her.

"But we were really just talking," Richie smiled at her. "Come on, have a seat." He waved his hand at a vacant chair across from Jon.

Her eyes flew immediately to the sexy blond man. He was wearing the same clothes he had worn in her vision. A blue T-shirt with the sleeves cut out of it was showing off the muscles in his arms, and a part of tight faded jeans were doing the same for his muscular thighs. Black sneakers covered his feet. She sat in the chair across from him, but was still staring at him with a puzzled expression.

Jon was wondering what she was thinking, and somehow, all of a sudden, he was in her head. Why was she concerned about what he was wearing? And, more importantly, why was he suddenly able to read her when he couldn’t before? Perhaps, it was the fact that they had made love, or perhaps it was that she was his life-mate, but either way this was very interesting. Carefully, he withdrew from her mind.

Mac had felt the sensation of butterfly wings brushing her brain again, and the weird feeling that she wasn’t alone in her own head, but just as quickly as it had happened it was gone again. What the hell was wrong with her? She realized Jon was looking at her, smirking, almost like he knew what she was thinking.

"So, when’s dinner, Bon Jovi?" she asked, trying to distract him.

"I guess that’s my cue to leave," Richie laughed, standing with his guitar still in his hands.

"No, you don’t have to go," Mac told him quickly, realizing how rude she was being.

Richie glanced at Jon, then back at Mac. "Yeah, I do. Catch up with you later, Kidd," he said as he headed for the door.

When the door closed behind Richie, Jon laid his guitar gently on the floor. Rising from his chair slowly, he said softly, "I thought he’d never leave," even as he crossed the space between them like a predator stalking prey. Leaning over her with one hand resting on each chair arm, he kissed her softly, nibbling on her bottom lip, before his tongue dove into her mouth to claim hers. He almost smiled against her lips when her arms snaked around his neck and her fingers threaded into the hair at his nape. Lowering himself to his knees between her spread feet, he leaned into her without breaking the kiss.

Her hands glided across his shoulders then down his bare arms, while her tongue tangled with his. He couldn’t stop himself from kissing a path across her cheek to her luscious neck. Licking at her jugular, he felt his fangs lengthen.

"I thought this was supposed to be desert," she said huskily, "and you haven’t even fed me dinner yet."

There was a knock at the door. "Saved by the room service waiter, my dear, but we’ll finish this later," he assured her before he rose to his feet and went to answer the door.

***********************

A few minutes later, Jon was enjoying the view across the table from him. She was beautiful anyway, but by candlelight Mac was almost angelic. The candlelight provided an almost halo effect that helped the illusion. All she was missing was the wings. Briefly, he wondered what she was thinking, but didn’t try to enter her head. He hadn’t missed the slight widening of her eyes when he walked into her head earlier. Somehow, she had known he was there, maybe not him specifically but someone. He found that small fact very interesting. What else was she capable of with that very strong mind of hers? Jon wondered if he entered her head while she was sleeping if she’d notice he was there or just think she was dreaming. As interesting as all of these ideas were, he wanted to learn more about her, things she might actually tell him.

"Is Mac your real first name?" he asked her, before taking a sip of wine.

"Nope." He had really hoped she would elaborate some more.

"You don’t wanna tell me what is, do you?"

"Nope," she answered, as she popped a bite of buttered roll in her mouth.

"Oh come on, Mac," Jon coaxed, grinning, "how’re we going to get to know each other if you won’t answer a simple question?"

"Can’t you start with something else?"

"I could’ve asked his name," he answered, shrugging.

"MacKenzie," she answered, quickly.

"Nice name, but unusual. Especially for a woman," he commented, grinning over her obvious reluctance to share the guy’s name. He took a bite of his dinner, not even paying attention to what was on his plate.

"It was my mother’s maiden name, besides it’s not as unusual as my middle name," she told him. Then winced when she realized what the next question would be.

Jon waited a few seconds before saying, "Okay, I’ll bite, what is your middle name?"

"My parents were Fleetwood Mac fans, can we just leave it at that?"

"Uh," he smiled, then shrugged, "no."

"Rhiannon, okay. Damn it, you’re like a dog with a bone."

"Ah, the Scottish witch of the wind," he commented, nodding.

"You’re the first person who actually realized the meaning behind the name," she said, surprised. Her mother had ‘the sight’ too, as did all the women in her family before her, she had been sure that her daughter would have the same abilities and had wanted to give her a name worthy of her gift. So, she’d been named after a witch. Her father, being proud of his Scottish heritage, had insisted it be a Scottish witch she was named after. It was just her terrible luck that had made Fleetwood Mac come out with that damn song right before she was born.

"Well, you’re certainly bewitching, but are you a witch?"

Mac almost choked on the bite of food she had just put in her mouth. "Of course not," she answered, quickly.

Jon raised one eyebrow. Interesting. She might not be a witch, but something about that question had hit too close to the mark. He laid his fork carefully in his plate, then laced his fingers together, his hands resting on the table in front of him. Jon leaned back in the chair, while he contemplated the woman in front of him. What wasn’t she telling him? He wanted to slip in her head and find out, but he didn’t want to tip his hand too soon.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" he asked, deciding not to push her on the other topic.

"No," she replied, "but I always wanted a sister. Sandy, my best friend, pretty much fits the bill now though."

"Well, you’ve met my best friend. What’s your’s like?"

"A lot like your’s actually," she laughed. "And she’s a huge fan of you guys, actually."

"Really? What does she do?"

"She’s a writer for the magazine too. She wanted this assignment in a bad way, but Joseph, our editor, said no. He didn’t want a fan’s account of the tour. He wanted a fresh angle, from a non-fan. But, Sandy knows all about all of you. I think she even knows all of your birthdays. I know she celebrates Richie’s every year. Makes him a cake and everything. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve made fun of her for that."

He acted offended. "Hey, don’t make fun of our fans. They’re very loyal, and we love them all. Even the kooks."

"Oh, I’d say she’s more than a kook, where you guys are concerned. She definitely drank the kool-aide," she laughed. "So, what made you wanna be a musician?"

"Is this the interviewer asking, or the woman?"

"The woman."

Jon thought about his answer for a minute. Did he want to give her the same joke of an answer he had always given to other reporters, or should he try to give her the real reason? He’d never been able to put it into words before without it just sounding stupid. That’s why he always told reporters, ‘I got into it for the women’,‘ For the chicks man, I got into music for the chicks,’ or his favorite, ‘The only guys who got the girls were jocks and musicians, and I knew I was too short to play football.’ How did you put into words the need to create something meaningful, the need to share it with others? The longing to tell a story, and to somehow touch someone’s life with it?

"Would it help if I asked as the interviewer?" she asked him, smiling.

"No," he laughed, "because then I would just give you the same answer I give every other reporter that asks."

"And what answer is that?"

"The women," he laughed.

"Why do I find that too easy to believe?" she grinned.

"Because it fits the image I’ve put out there for everyone to see," he answered, almost regretting the honesty in that remark, but he wanted to be honest and open with her. Eventually, he’d have to tell her everything, and it would be easier if he started out with the truth. He leaned forward. "Mac, I’ve always been an expert at public relations. I know just what causes to be involved in, just what to say, and which way to look for the cameras to get my good side. I know how to get my name and consequently, the band’s name out there. But, I gotta be honest. There’s the image, and then there’s the real deal, and some days they’re really close like two sides of the same coin. And some days, they’re miles apart." That was as close as he could get right now to telling her that the image he had made for himself, the family man and All-American boy, wasn’t the complete truth. That his wife and family were all hired actors, and he was a 444 year old vampire.

"Of course you would have to be good at the PR stuff. Look at how big ya’ll are," she commented, waving one hand in the air.

She didn’t know the half of it, and right now he just couldn’t tell her. So, he changed the subject to something that was sure to distract her and put her on the defensive. "Wanna tell me his name now?"

"Not really," she shook her head. She pushed her chair back and stood abruptly. "But, I guess I might as well get this over with."

Jon didn’t say a word. He just waited patiently and watched as she began to pace the floor. Eventually she would get it out, he knew, but she needed to do it in her own time.

"His name is Daniel," she finally said. "He was my fiancé. Daniel always said I was too short, and my freckles made me look like a little girl, among other things." She couldn’t bring herself to voice the other hateful things Daniel had said out loud. Mac stopped pacing and turned to look at Jon. Leaning back in the chair, he looked comfortable. And patient. Like he had all night to listen to her.

"What ‘other things’?" he asked softly.

"Jon," she said, her voice cracking, "don’t make me say them out loud."

"What was so bad that you can’t say it?"

"It’s not that I can’t say it," she told him tearfully, then in a whisper added, "I couldn’t bear it if you agreed with him."

Jon stood up so fast, he knocked the chair over. Quickly, he strode across the room and pulled her roughly into his arms. "There’s no way I would ever agree with him! He is a fucking liar. Everything he told you was a lie!" He raised her chin with the knuckle of his first finger, so he could look into her eyes. "Listen to me," he paused, "better yet, let me show you."

He released her and stepped back. Taking one of her hands in each of his own he led her toward his bedroom. Somehow, he would show her what he saw. Somehow, he would make her see the beautiful woman that he saw. Even if it took him all night, or even the rest of his life.

Jon led her to the mirror in his room. Turning her toward the mirror, he stepped up close to her back. He wasn’t touching her anymore, but he was standing so close, she could feel the heat of his body.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Watch the mirror, mia moglie. Don’t take your eyes off us." His hot breath tickled her ear, making her shiver.

Briefly, she wondered what he had called her. It sounded like Italian, perhaps an endearment. But, she didn’t wonder long, her mind was suddenly awash with sensation as his tongue swirled around the delicate shell of her ear. She leaned back against his strong chest, closing her eyes against the sensual pleasures his tongue was causing.

"No," he whispered, his voice husky, "don’t close your eyes, Mac. I want you to see what I see."

Opening her eyes, she met his blue gaze in the mirror, even as his hands circled her waist, pulling her tighter against him. She felt the hardening bulge in his jeans swelling against her bottom. There was no way she could doubt his desire for her, not with the proof of it pressed so tightly against her.

One of his hands slid under the band of her sweatshirt, pulling her shirt up as it went. He stopped that hand and left it splayed across her abdomen, the palm of his hand resting on the waistband of her jeans, his thumb and forefinger caressing the satin skin of her stomach. The other hand moved further up under her sweatshirt to boldly stroke her breast through the satin and lace of her bra. His blue eyes never left hers in the mirror, he held her gaze as strongly as he held her.

With his mouth still at her ear, he whispered, "I see a woman made for a man’s hands. Made to be loved." His lips teased at the side of her neck, but Jon resisted the urge to bite her. This was all about her; he wanted to take all her self-conscious doubts away once and for all.

The hand at her waist moved up her body, caressing as it went, until his fingers were playing at her lips. "I see lips that were made for kissing. Ripe and luscious, begging to be nibbled. The bottom lip is slightly fuller than the top, so it looks like you’re always pouting. Needing a man’s love, a man’s touch."

She groaned. His touch was lighting a fire inside her, but his words were burning her up. "Jon," she gasped, softly.

"Moving on," he said huskily, before moving to pull the sweatshirt off over her head and tossing it carelessly in the floor. One hand continued to play at her breasts, while the other smoothed the skin of her shoulder. "Your skin is like satin, warm satin. It pleads with me to stroke it. Can you hear it?" He didn’t wait for an answer. The hand at her breasts skillfully released the front clasp of her bra. With both hands, he slid the straps off her shoulders and let the scrap of satin and lace fall at her feet

She reached up above her head with one hand, intending to circle his neck, but he grasped her hand and moved it back to her side. "No, this isn’t about me. It’s about you. Look at you... at us." His hands moved back to her breasts, caressing, his fingers tugging tenderly at her nipples. His lips were once again at her ear. "I see breasts more beautiful than words. They beg me to take them in my mouth to suckle and nibble on them." His husky words matched with his movements were sending Mac way over the edge, her eyes closed in ecstacy. "No, no, mia moglie," he whispered hotly against her ear, "open your eyes. See what I see." There was that endearment again. What did it mean?

She opened her eyes as he asked, once again meeting his blue eyes in the mirror. His gaze was as hot as his hands on her body, touching, tormenting.

He pushed her hair aside with his nose, to kiss her nape as his hands slid to her waist and began to undo the front of her jeans. As his hands pushed her jeans and panties over her hips, he bent to push them to her feet, his lips nibbling down her back as he went. "You taste so good, il mia tesora. The taste of your skin is sweeter than any fruit."

She was sure now that it was Italian, but what was he saying? All too soon, she didn’t care again as his hands began their sensual onslaught once more. One hand tenderly caressed one of her breasts before moving to give the other the same attention. His other hand slid down her abdomen to the light brown curls at the apex of her thighs. At that point, she couldn’t take her eyes off his in the mirror. His gaze held hers like a magnet does steel, even as his thumb began to dance lightly on the button of her desire hidden in those curls. He bent his blond head to lightly graze her shoulder with his fangs, but his eyes never left hers in the mirror.

Whispering against her shoulder, he told her hotly, "You are molto bella, very beautiful. You take my breath away with the look of desire in your amazing green eyes."

His thumb continued it’s dance, and she pushed urgently against his hand. "Jon," she gasped, "please."

"Please, what, mia moglie?" he asked against her neck. "See, you even beg beautifully."

"Please make love to me," she urged, her eyes holding his in the mirror, "I need to feel you in me. Now." She surprised herself with her boldness, but how could she not be bold with the words he was whispering in her ear and the magical caresses of his hands.

Quickly, Jon pulled back from her to swiftly remove his clothes. He pulled her back against him once more, then his hands slid down her arms. Taking her hands, he gently laid them on the dresser in front of her. "Don’t look away, please il mia tesora, watch us."

His lips tasted the velvety skin of her neck, as his hands once again caressed her breasts, and he spread her feet apart with one of his own. Then his hands moved to her hips. He pulled her toward him as he slid inside her warmth. He watched her eyes widen slightly in the mirror when he entered her. "Dunque bella," he whispered against her neck, as he began to move inside her.
She didn’t speak Italian, but even she knew that bella meant beautiful. She pushed back against him to meet his thrusts, still meeting the fire of his blue gaze in the mirror. This was the most purely sensual thing that had ever happened to her.

He left one hand on her hip, but the other roamed back up to her breasts. Caressing, tugging playfully at her nipples, making the fire burn brighter, more out of control. He sucked at her earlobe, briefly, before he whispered, "Come for me, il mia tesora." Then the hand left her hip and once again his thumb danced on the nubbin of flesh hidden in her curls.

The fire burned hotter, and the flames danced higher, threatening to consume her. She gasped his name as the heat engulfed her and she gave in to the explosion.

Jon found his own release as she gasped his name, letting it wash over him as he continued to thrust into her. "Oh God, Mac," he cried out, huskily, pulling her tightly against him.

He disengaged from her, then bent to pick her up. Jon strode quickly to the bed, and laid her gently down on the pillows. Quickly, he laid down beside her. Laying on his side, he propped up on his elbow to look down at her. He smoothed her hair back off her forehead as he smiled down into her eyes. "Don’t ever let me hear you say you aren’t beautiful again," he told her.

She smiled up at him. "Will you give me another lesson like that one, if I do?"

"Perhaps," he gave her a devilish grin, "or I might give you a spanking."

Mac reached up to stroke his cheek with her palm, noticing that he turned his face into her caress. "Thank you," she whispered softly.

"No, thank you, for coming into my life," he said urgently, before his lips touched hers. He kissed her deeply, before pulling her into his arms.

Chapter Six

2007-07-12T13:50:00.000-05:00

Mac waited in the lobby with Richie and the others, and when Jon finally showed up they hurried out to the van that would take them to the airport. She had trouble meeting Richie’s gaze as they waited and even more trouble meeting Jon’s when he arrived. Richie had asked her if she was feeling better, and she had assured him that she was.

Jon noticed that Mac seemed more shy than usual. She was quiet and withdrawn, not even laughing with the guys like she had done before. When she got in the van and sat next to him, she sat stiffly, trying not to touch any part of him. He sincerely hoped that she didn’t regret last night. Because there was no way that he could, knowing what he knew now. He was willing to admit that he had taken advantage of her insecurities and seduced her, but that wasn’t such a tough pill to take knowing he had found his life-mate in the end. Hell, he knew he wasn’t in love with her yet, but all the way to the airport he examined what he did feel. Possessiveness. More than he thought possible. More than he had ever felt toward Cecilia, maybe because as much as he had loved her, he had known after the first time they made love that she wasn’t his life-mate. He should have realized that relationship was doomed from the beginning. Hell, whether she knew it or not yet, she belonged to him. Jealousy. He had even been jealous of Richie, for heaven’s sake. Protectiveness. He knew he could never let anyone harm her, at least not without facing the wrath of a fully enraged vampire. Lust. Yeah, he felt that one in abundance. And, he did care about her, but after only two full days of knowing her, he just wasn’t sure yet that his feelings could be called love.

Looking over at her, he eased one hand into her lap to take one of hers. Lacing their fingers together, he leaned over and whispered in her ear. "We’ll talk on the plane. No regrets, okay?" he gave her that smile that had won over women around the world. She didn’t answer, but she gripped his hand tighter.

He didn’t ask Benny to watch out for her on the way through the airport. He held on to her hand for the whole trek, dragging her along when needed, and pushing her behind him to try and shield her when their path became crowded. Richie must have realized what he was doing because his friend stayed close behind her, helping to shield her from behind so that she didn’t get jostled too much in the crush.

Once they had run the gauntlet of airport security and screaming fans and were finally out on the tarmac, he told Mac he’d meet her on the plane and waited to talk to Richie. While everyone else was boarding the plane, he pulled Richie to the side.

"Thanks, Rich."

"What’re you thanking me for?"

"You know, asshole," Jon answered with a grin.

"Oooooh, you mean the help protecting your girlfriend," Richie laughed.

"She’s more than ‘my girlfriend’," Jon said, pulling his shirt to the side. His button-up shirt was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, so it didn’t take much to show Richie the mark.

"I knew it," Richie crowed.

Jon frowned. "Okay, you were right. For once. Don’t rub it in."

"Wait," Richie said, holding up one hand palm out at Jon, "that means you tapped the little reporter last night."

Growling low in his throat, Jon responded, "I’d appreciate it if you didn’t refer to my life-mate that way."

"Right. Sorry," Richie had the grace to look contrite. "That’s sorta the same as wife, respect is in order. Gotcha."

"Thanks," Jon acknowledged Richie’s apology with a curt nod. He turned to walk toward the plane.

But, Richie’s next words stopped him. "But Jon, isn’t that a little bit of a problem? Since...well...I mean...in the eyes of the world...uh...you already have a wife."

"Damn," he muttered, but continued on toward the plane.

Richie fell into step beside him. "So, what’re you going to do?"

"I don’t know yet, but I’ll think of something."

"I’m sure you will, Bro, I’m sure you will," Richie assured him, "and I’ll help, if I can."

On the plane, Jon sat in the seat next to Mac. Obie came out of the cock pit and told everyone to buckle up, the pilot was ready for take-off. Jon, once again, took one of Mac’s small hands in one of his own. He leaned over to whisper, "The guys will all take a nap shortly, they’re hung over. We’ll be able to have some privacy then."

While he waited on ‘The Sleeping Beauties’ to fall out, he held on tight to her hand and contemplated just exactly how much he could tell her. He wasn’t ready to tell her yet what he was, but he needed to tell her something. Also, Jon knew it wouldn’t be as simple as explaining the mark and that she was his life-mate. That wouldn’t exactly make her cry out her undying love and jump into his arms. Nope. He knew he was going to have to work a little harder than that. A little old fashioned wooing was in order here. Not to mention, he was sure he was going to have to get past all of her insecurities and deal with the baggage left over from whoever had hurt her in the past.

There were a few things he had left out in his explanation of life-mates to Richie. He hadn’t wanted to worry his friend, but he needed her, had been looking for her for all of his 444 years. It wasn’t necessarily a matter of life and death. More, a matter of sanity. Few vampires lived past the age of 450 years old without a life-mate. A life-mate provided a necessary balance that kept them from going insane, from turning rogue and killing without mercy. When that happened, another vamp, usually a friend would hunt them down and stop their killing spree. Kristoff had agreed to act as his hunter, and he had done the same for his friend. He had never been as happy in his life as when Kristoff had found Maria. It had relieved him of that potential burden, but on the day of his wedding, Kristoff had assured him that he would still honor their agreement if the need ever arose. Kristoff had told him he would not give up hope that Jon would find his own life-mate, though, and relieve his burden as well. Kristoff had told him to just keep the faith; she was out there somewhere. Well, he had found her, and there was no way in heaven or hell he was going to let her go now.

David fell asleep almost immediately, with Obie right behind, and Jon soon heard Tico’s snores. Benny and the gang were in the back of the plane playing cards. All that was left was Richie, and he was reading some guitar magazine. Jon closed his eyes and concentrated. First the slight resistance and then he was in Richie’s head. Pretend sleep, Bro. I need to talk to her and I’m sure she would prefer privacy or at least the appearance of it.

He waited while Richie made a big show of stretching and yawning then leaning his seat back a little. Then almost laughed out loud when a few minutes later he heard Richie let out a loud snore. Don’t over do it, asshole. Richie’s mental smile was his only answer.

"Mac," he said softly.

"Let’s cut through the crap," she hissed.

"What?" he asked.

"I’ll make ya a deal. Don’t hand me the bullshit about how much last night meant to you, and I guarantee not to turn on the tears and promise to be better next time and beg you not to dump me," she whispered harshly.

He heard a snort of laughter that turned into a half-hearted snore from Richie’s direction. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked her, barely above a whisper.

"Don’t treat me like some groupie, Jon," she told him, then turned to look out the window.

"That’s not what I was going to do," he responded angrily. "Damn, will you quit jumping to conclusions about me? Now there’s a deal I’d be willing to make."

"What deal?"

"You quit jumping to conclusions about me and I won’t ‘hand you any bullshit’."

"It’s hard not to jump to conclusions about a man that’s been a first class jackass since the moment I met him then obviously thinks a few adequate kisses and an orgasm or two and I’ll turn into putty in his hands."

Another snort/snore came from Richie’s direction, obviously his friend was enjoying this. "Hey, it was a few more than two orgasms! I counted three just in that one time alone," he was losing patience with her. How could this woman help keep him sane in the years to come? "And what do you mean, adequate kisses?"

She still hadn’t taken her eyes off the window. "Look Jon, I’m not going to play this morning after game with you," she began.

"Just shut up and listen to me," he interrupted her.

"Excuse me," she gasped, finally turning to look at him again.

"You heard me," he grinned, "now listen. I’m not going to treat you like some groupie. I wouldn’t dream of it. I want to see where this can go."

"Straight to hell," she answered him and turned back to the window, adding, "in a hand basket."

"That may be the case," he chuckled, "but I, at least, wanna try." When she didn’t say anything else, he grasped her chin in one hand and turned her head to look at him again. "Please," he smiled, "give me the chance to undo the hurt and pain he caused."

She was angry that he had hit too close to the mark and tried to laugh it off. "He who?"

"I don’t know. But you do," he said softly, his thumb softly stroking her cheek. "Tell me who he is. Tell me who hurt you, the one that lied to you."

"Lied to me?"

"The one that told you that you weren’t beautiful. The one that convinced you that you weren’t a sexy, alluring, woman."

A single tear rolled down her cheek. "Jon, I...can’t."

He leaned forward and lightly kissed her lips. "Maybe you will, someday," he smiled, then kissed the tip of her nose. "Just give us a chance, that’s all I’m asking."

"A chance at what?"

"I don’t know. Let’s find out together."

"You talk a real sweet line, Bon Jovi."

"What can I say? I try, Dallas."

"So, where do we go from here?"

"Dinner....tonight," he paused, thoughtfully, "maybe in the hotel restaurant."

"Oh, come on," she finally rewarded him with a smile. "You can do better than that, Rock Star."

"Okay," he grinned devilishly, "how ‘bout room service by candlelight in my hotel room and a few more adequate kisses and maybe a couple of orgasms for desert?"

She laughed softly. "Now, that sounds romantic."

"I’ll take that as a yes," he laughed, "and maybe you’d agree to let me nibble on your neck?" He heard another snort/snore from Richie.

"Maybe," she added mysteriously.

Their discussion of romance was interrupted when Benny sat down in the seat across the aisle from them and started trying to hit Jon up for a loan to get back into the poker game.

Chapter Five

2007-07-10T21:28:00.000-05:00

Richie’s statement was still echoing in his mind when they took the stage that night. The show went off without any problems. A few times he caught himself searching the front few rows, seeking out Mac. When his eyes finally found her, he tried to keep from looking in her direction, but eventually admitted to himself that it was a losing battle.
They were celebrating another great show in the hotel bar, when she joined them. He watched Richie move his chair to allow her to pull up one of her own at their table, between him and Richie.

He smiled at her. "Did you enjoy the show, Ms. Donaldson?"

"Yes, thank you."

"And, did you get some material for your article?"

She nodded in answer, then turned to Richie. "I was hoping to talk to you for the article. Tico and David have already sat down with me for their interviews." She turned to the other two men, "Thank you both, by the way."

Tico and David raised their beer bottles and tilted them towards her in silent salute.

"How ‘bout we talk on the plane tomorrow morning," Richie suggested. "Tonight we’re celebrating, and I’d hate to talk to you with a tongue loosened with alcohol."

She laughed with him, "Aw, damn, I bet I could get some great stuff out of you then."
"Exactly my point," Richie laughed.

Jon watched them laughing together and felt a stab of jealousy. He kept trying to tell himself it was just Richie, but it wasn’t working. He excused himself before he did something stupid, and left to go hunt.

"He got out of here before I could hit him up for an interview time," she said, frowning.

"Don’t mind Jon," Richie told her. He knew where Jon had went, and covered for him as usual. "He’s really tired tonight. He had just told us before you came in that he was gonna turn in early."

David looked at Tico with a question in his eyes, but Tico only shrugged in answer.

They were interrupted when the waitress walked up to the table. "Would you guys like me to take some of these?" she asked motioning to the empty bottles.

"Please," David answered.

"And bring some more," Tico added.

"Here," Mac said, reaching for Jon’s forgotten bottle, intending to hand it to the waitress. She froze, with her hand on the bottle, as pictures began flashing across her closed eyelids, slowly building in momentum until it was like watching a movie. She saw Jon following a woman. Then after a flash of light, Jon pushing the woman against a wall. The two of them in a heated embrace, Jon began to kiss a trail down the woman’s neck even as she threw back her head in wild abandon. She watched, unable to stop the movie, as Jon began to suck on the woman’s neck.

"Mac, are you okay?" Richie’s concerned voice asked, even as he laid one hand on her shoulder.
The movie stopped, and Mac realized she had slumped back in her chair, with Jon’s beer bottle still in her hand. "I’m fine," she replied, shakily. Finally, reaching to hand the bottle to the waitress.

"Are you sure?" the waitress asked. "Can I get you something?"

"No, really. I’m fine. I’m just a little tired. I guess I should go on up to my room." Mac tried to make excuses, excuses she had made many times in the past. Her visions always shook her up a little, but this one had been very intense. It wasn’t like she could tell them what really happened. They would think her completely insane. The only person who hadn’t thought her crazy, once she’d told them her secret, was Sandy. Daniel had left her and suggested she get help. She started to rise from her chair, wobbling a little.

Richie steadied her. "I’ll walk you up to your room," and when she started to argue, "no arguments." He turned to David and Tico, "I’ll be back in a few minutes. You two try to stay outta trouble ‘til I get back."

*****************************

Alone with Richie in the elevator, Mac tried to regain control of her senses. The vision had been way more intense than any she had ever had. She had actually felt the emotions of the woman in the vision, or had they been Jon’s. She wasn’t sure, but the absolute ecstasy had almost overwhelmed her.

Warily, Richie watched Mac. He was sure there was something she wasn’t telling him, but he guessed everyone was entitled to their secrets. Still, he kept an eye on her, hoping she wouldn’t collapse before they got to her room. When the doors slid open at their floor, Richie put his arm around her small shoulders, noticing that she leaned heavily on him all the way to her door. Once the door was open, she stepped inside quickly.

"Thanks, Richie."

"No problem," he looked at her for a long second. "Are you sure you’re going to be all right?"

"I’ll be fine," she smiled at him as she moved to close the door, adding cryptically as she closed the door, "they never last long."

Richie wondered about that strange remark all the way back down the hall and while he waited on the elevator. What never lasted long?

The doors slid open and Richie glanced up. Jon stood waiting to exit the elevator.

"Hey man," Jon said in greeting.

"Hey," Richie answered.

"Something wrong?"

"Just trying to figure out a puzzle."

Jon stepped off the elevator and headed down the hall towards his room, knowing Richie would fall into step beside him. "What kind of puzzle?"

Richie quickly explained what had happened after Jon had left the bar. They had just reached Jon’s door, when Richie finished the tale. In the blink of an eye, Richie found himself slammed against the wall, with Jon’s hand fisted in his shirt.

"And you just left her alone?" Jon asked between clenched teeth.

"I didn’t have much choice," Richie grinned at his furious friend. "Had I went in her room with her, you would’ve ripped out my throat and sucked me dry."

"Will you quit with that shit? You know I’d never..."

"Oh? But you’ve threatened several times."

Jon released Richie’s shirt. "Fuck you, Sambora."

"You keep asking and I keep having to tell ya no," Richie responded as he turned and headed back down the hall, throwing over his shoulder, "but I bet the little reporter would take you up on the offer."

Glaring at his friend’s retreating back, Jon moved across the hall to knock on Mac’s door.
He heard her voice from the other side as she opened the door, "Richie, really I’ll be fine," her eyes opened wide on the last word, when she saw Jon standing there instead of who she expected.

Jon pushed past her, then turned when she closed the door. "Are you sure?" He reached to touch her forehead, checking for a fever.

She pulled away from his touch. "I’m sure." Mac turned away from him and started to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and spun her back around to face him.

"How can you be so sure? Have you had these spells, or whatever you wanna call ‘em, like this before?" he asked, almost nose to nose with her.

"Yeah," she answered, looking down, "and I’ll be fine. As a matter of fact, I’m already feeling better. But I’d be perfect if you’d let go of me," she told him, looking pointedly at his hand on her arm.

He pulled her closer to him. "You didn’t seem to mind last night."

She gasped right before his lips touched hers. His tongue stroked her lips and she opened her mouth for him. Her fingers threaded through his golden hair, even as his tongue tangled with hers.

Jon slid his hands around her waist, and felt her shiver when his fingers found the warm skin under her T-shirt. He pulled her lower body tighter against his, and was rewarded by her soft moan. Kissing a path across her cheek and down her neck, he felt his fangs lengthen.
Mac felt his teeth graze the skin of her neck and shivered again. His touch was magical, taking her away, making her feel...wanted. Yes, wanted. How long had it been since she felt this way? Too long.

"Tell me you want me." His voice was husky and whisper soft against the skin of her neck. "Tell me you need me."

"Why?" she asked, her breath coming in quick pants.

Jon pulled back and looked down into her forest green eyes. "What do you mean, why?" His voice was still husky, as he tried to hide his fangs as he spoke to her.

"Why do you want me to say it? So you can laugh and walk away?"

He frowned down at her, puzzled, but he could see the honesty of her question in her eyes. Someone had hurt this woman terribly, and made her doubt her own sexuality. He caressed her cheek gently, then threaded his fingers through her hair. "No, I would never do that. I just need to hear you say that you want this. Want me. Because, I want you more than I can say."

"Really? Why?" She was so unsure of him, of herself.

"Don’t you realize how beautiful you are?"

She opened her mouth to argue with him, but he interrupted her. "Don’t argue with me. I know what I like."

Grinning at him, she asked, "You do? And what would that be?"

He combed her hair with his fingers. "Long honey colored hair, and beautiful green eyes."

She blushed. Mac had never really been complimented much, except from her parents. And Sandy. Sandy always told her how pretty she was. Sandy said things like, "I hate you, because you look good whether you wear make-up or not." Or, "I wish my hair was as thick and pretty as yours."

He kissed the bridge of her nose. "And freckles. God, how I love these freckles."

"Jon," she said hesitantly, "I thought you didn’t like me."

"I like you too damn much," he answered her. "I’ve been trying to push you away since the moment I saw you."

"Why?"

"Because as sweet as you smell," he paused, "you smell like trouble."

She made a quick decision. Hasty maybe, but she was tired of thinking. Here was the most sexy man she had ever met, telling her he wanted her. Her. She wasn’t going to question it any longer. "Jon," she almost whispered, "kiss me again, please."

He couldn’t resist her. Gently, his lips brushed hers again, and she opened her mouth, thrusting her tongue past his lips to rub erotically against his. Quickly, before she could run her tongue across his fangs, he pulled away to trail kisses down her neck. Running his hands up and down her back, he pulled her tighter against him. He resisted the strong urge to bite her, and ran one of his hands around to caress her breast. "Now. Tell me you need me," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm as it brushed across the delicate shell. Then he ran his tongue around the outside of her ear, before he pulled the lobe into his mouth and sucked on it gently.

"Oh yes," she gasped, "I need you, Jon."

"Thank God," he said, as he bent and lifted her in his arms.

She laughed softly. "Put me down."

"Not ‘til I get you to the bed," he murmured against her hair.

He strode across the room to lay her gently on the bed, but she sat up and met him halfway when he leaned over her. She remembered all to well what was under his shirt and pulled it off over his head. She smoothed her hands down his chest, unable to believe they were really here and about to make love.

Jon almost lost control, but he continued to fight the urge to bite her. He lifted the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, then began to kiss a path down her chest while undoing the clasp of her bra. He vaguely realized that her hands were at the waistband of his jeans working to undo the buttons.

His mouth was back on her neck, and she could feel his teeth graze her neck again, making her tingle. Briefly, the picture from her vision flashed across her mind, but she quickly banished it. Although, the feeling of absolute ecstasy remained behind.

Jon could hear her pulse, as his teeth once again slid over her jugular. Damn, he wanted to bite her. He knew it would increase not only his pleasure but hers as well, but then how could he explain the bite mark in the morning?

When they were skin to skin, Mac let out a moan. When he entered her, she let out his name on a gasp. Jon began to move inside her, even as he continued to fight the urge to bite her. She met each of his thrusts with wild abandon, and clutched his shoulders as she gasped his name over and over.

"Let go, Mac," he whispered against her ear, then moved to take one nipple in his mouth to suck on it gently, but once he realized he could feel her pulse, he released it.

"Oh my God, Jon," she cried as she splintered into a million pieces.

He couldn’t hold back any longer and felt his own release wash over him in waves. Biting the pillow beside her head to keep from biting her.

Mac woke the next morning before Jon. She found herself snuggled back against a warm male, with his arms around her and his breath warm and tickling her ear. Laying still, trying not to wake him, she thought about the night before. He had made love to her many times throughout the night, and she had enjoyed every minute of it. However, now she was faced with quite possibly the strangest morning after she had ever experienced. He was a famous musician, for crying out loud. How many women had woke up in his bed? She couldn’t bear it if he lumped her in with all the other groupies in his life.

The call of nature was getting louder, so she carefully slid out of his arms and headed toward the bathroom. She stopped and turned back to look at him. He lay on his side with the sheet laying across his naked hip. She blushed, remembering what lay beneath that sheet. His hair was almost covering his face, but he looked so much younger laying there. It must be a trick of the early morning light. In the bathroom, she realized they were supposed to be flying to Seattle that day, for a show the next night. A shower sounded nice before she had to gather all her things.

The sound of water running in the bathroom and the absence of the warm woman in his arms woke Jon from a sound sleep. He hadn’t slept like that in years! Closing his eyes, he put on the glamour and realized she may have seen him without it. Damn. Hopefully, she hadn’t read to much into it. After the night they had spent together, maybe she wouldn’t notice or care that he had looked almost 20 years younger when she woke next to him. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, he ran his fingers through his rumpled hair, then picked his jeans up out of the floor next to the bed. He jumped when the chorus of Areosmith’s Walk this Way blared out of his jeans pocket. Quickly, he fished his cell phone out and answered it.

"Jon, where the hell are you? I’ve looked all over for you," Richie’s voice was loud in his ear.

"You don’t wanna know where I am, Rich."

"Yes I do, we have to catch a plane in an hour."

"Aw shit, is it that late?"

"Where’s your head, Kidd? You’re usually the one rounding all of us up."

He heard the water shut off in the bathroom. At least she had time to take one. He was going to have to scramble to get ready to go to the airport. "Look Rich, I’ll meet you guys in the lobby in 45 minutes, it’s not like the plane will take off without us."

"See you then," Richie said as he hung up the phone.

Calmly, pulling on his jeans as he went, he walked to the closed door of the bathroom. "Mac," he called out to her, "it’s later than I thought. We have to hurry and meet the guys in 45 minutes in the lobby. I’m going to run to my room and get a shower and pack my stuff. I’ll see you in a few minutes. Okay?"

"Okay," she answered.

He really wanted to open the door and give her a long good morning kiss, but he could almost feel her awkwardness through the door. Jon really didn’t want to push her too far, and he wasn’t sure how they were going to handle what had happened, but they could talk about it later. They would have some private time on the plane. The guys would all be hung-over from last night and want to nap on the flight. He chuckled as he pulled his T-shirt over his head, knowing he was just going to take it back off the minute he got to his room across the hall.

Sticking his head out her door, he looked up and down the hall, before almost running across the hall to his own room. It wouldn’t help matters any if he ran into Richie in the hallway. Once the door closed behind him, he started stripping off his clothes as he went to the shower. He really wanted a cup of coffee, but he’d have to wait to get one until they were on the plane.

Across the hall, Mac was wishing for some caffeine too. Hurriedly, she dressed in faded jeans and a baggy Texas Longhorns sweatshirt, then called room service. She sent up a silent thank you when they promised her a Dr. Pepper in about 15 minutes, then began to pack her things. She was putting her damp hair up in a ponytail when the room service waiter knocked on the door.
Sipping her caffeine, she finished her packing with a few minutes to spare, so she double checked to make sure she hadn’t missed anything.

Jon stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. Quickly, he wiped the fog from the mirror so he could dry his hair and shave. He was in such a hurry to get everything done, it was after he had his jeans on and was back in the bathroom to brush his teeth that he saw the red slash on his chest. He was so shocked to see it that he just stood there staring at it for several minutes while his finger traced the mark. No more than an inch and a half long, it did indeed look just like a red bolt of lightening tattooed on his left pectoral muscle. His life-mate. She was his life-mate? He had known she was going to be trouble, but he’d had no idea the trouble was going to be this huge! Just what he needed, a nosy reporter for a life-mate. Well hell, there would be no way out of that interview now.

Chapter Four

2007-07-09T23:26:00.000-05:00

The next morning, Mac woke with a splitting headache and someone pounding on her door. It was still dark in her room, the sun hadn’t risen yet. Throwing back the covers, she clumsily got out of bed and stumbled toward the door, calling out, "I’m coming, hold on a sec."
She opened the door, just a crack, and blinked sleepily at a very aggravated rock star. "We’ve been waiting on you for half an hour," he told her. "Are you coming with us to the interview or not?"

Mac looked at Jon, puzzled. "What time is it?"

"It’s 8:30," he answered her, "we were supposed to meet in the lobby at 8 sharp to go to the radio station."

"I remember," she told him, "I’m sorry I must have overslept."

"Ever heard of an alarm clock?" he threw at her.

"I have one," she answered sharply, then quickly changed her tone. "Look, go on without me, I’ll catch up with ya’ll later."

"Whatever," he flung at her as he stormed off down the hall.

Mac watched him angrily punch the button to call the elevator then closed the door and leaned back against it. "Whoa, Mac, you’re really getting off on a good foot here," she said sarcastically to the empty room. She walked back through the room and fell across the bed. Closing her eyes briefly, she thought about the night before. She had come back from Jon’s room and hurriedly got ready for bed. She now knew she had fell asleep without setting her alarm clock. Apparently, all of her recent traveling and the stress of dealing with Jon had finally caught up to her, and she had overslept. Sunrise being so late here in winter had aided her sleeping in. "Damn it," she muttered to the empty room. Throwing one arm over her face, she announced, "I need a Dr. Pepper." Too bad there wasn’t anyone there to get one for her. She rolled over and grabbed the phone. Room service. She needed breakfast and a very big glass of Dr. Pepper. Disappointed to discover the hotel didn’t deliver sodas in a five gallon bucket with a straw, she just told them to send a glass of ice and a two liter bottle of the stuff and ordered her usual scrambled eggs with cheese and buttered wheat toast.

Hoping it would help her to wake up, Mac decided to take a quick shower before her breakfast arrived. She had just stepped out of the shower, when the knock came at the door. Throwing on her thick terry-cloth robe, she tied the belt on the way to answer it.

After eating her breakfast, she sat curled up in one of the curved-back chairs by the window enjoying her second glass of Dr. Pepper. While watching the sunrise, she contemplated her present problem. What was it about Jon that made her turn into a complete ninny whenever she was in a room with him? She was sure it wasn’t just that he was an attractive male, because she had been around numerous attractive men in her lifetime. But, none of them had ever oozed sex with every move, gesture, and word. Thinking about how many times she had been at a loss for words, or worse, lost her temper, she almost shuddered. Her fingers brushed her lips as she thought about the kiss the night before. What a kiss! It was almost too hot, too explosive to be referred to with such a small word. Kiss. The word seemed so inadequate to describe what had happened last night. Although, if lumped into the category of other four letter words, maybe it fit quite well. She wasn’t sure how to act when she saw him again. This morning didn’t really count, since she had been half asleep. But, their next encounter was sure to be uncomfortable, at least for her.

Why? That’s the word that kept bouncing around in her head. That one word reverberated back and forth in her skull, echoing back to her Daniel-bruised ego. Why? Mac shook her head to dispel the one word echo and leaned forward to set her glass on the table. Rising slowly from the chair, she moved to the bedroom to get dressed for the day and her next encounter with the singer that she wouldn’t seem to get out of her mind.

**************************

The band and a few crew members were preparing to leave the radio station across town, when Jon came to a dead stop in the lobby. Everyone except Richie continued toward the door. Jon was quickly checking the pockets of his jacket and jeans. The sun might have still been below the horizon when they left the hotel, but it had finally made an appearance by the time they were heading back.

"Shit," Richie exclaimed, immediately realizing the problem. "You forgot your sunglasses, didn’t you?" he asked in a whisper.

"Apparently," Jon answered just as softly.

Richie offered Jon his pair, before asking, "Where the hell is your head, Kidd?"

"Don’t call me that," Jon frowned at him. "You know now that the stupid nickname doesn’t apply. I’m way older than all of you."

"Question, neatly avoided," Richie commented dryly.

"Fuck you, Sambora," he answered, before walking out to join the rest of the group at the van.

Richie chuckled softly to himself as he headed for the waiting vehicle. He knew where Jon’s head was; he didn’t need him to answer the question. All Richie was wondering is how long his friend was going to fight his attraction to the little reporter. Climbing into the back seat next to his friend, Richie couldn’t help but get in another dig or two. He leaned toward Jon and asked softly, "Why don’t you just take her to your bed and get it over with?"

"Butt out, Rich," Jon grumbled.

"Ah," Richie said, nodding in understanding, "you know if you take her to your bed, it won’t be over."

"Fuck you, Sambora," the singer said, threateningly.

"Sorry, Kidd," Richie answered, grinning unabashedly, "I gotta turn ya down, I don’t swing that way."

Jon growled low in response. "If you were anyone else...," he left the sentence dangling in warning.

"Yeah, I know," Richie paused dramatically, "you would’ve already ripped my throat out and sucked me dry." Then he chuckled softly at the notion. His friend just turned toward the window and began to ignore him.

**************************

Back at the hotel, Jon paced the confines of his room. His thoughts were resting squarely on the beautiful reporter in her room across the hall. Richie was right. Jon knew this as surely as he knew the sky was blue, the sun was hot and that Richie was an ass. Somehow, he just couldn’t bring himself to admit it out loud.

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts, and the smell of Richie’s cologne drifted to him under the door.

"Come on in, Rich," he called out, dreading the coming discussion.

"Do you know how unnerving it is when you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Never mind," Richie shook his head. Jon’s vampire powers had long been an interesting topic for him, but Jon didn’t like to talk about them. Richie knew that Jon would give anything to be human again, so he liked to pretend he was. But, there were just some things Jon did without thinking that most humans couldn’t even begin to imagine doing.

"Come to harass me some more about Ms. Donaldson?"

"No," his answer surprised Jon. "Actually, I came to see if you wanna talk about it."

That was just one more thing that Richie was good at, knowing when a friend needed to talk. Jon walked across the room and practically threw himself down in a chair by the window.

"I know I should talk about it," he began, "but I really don’t know what to say."

"Why don’t you start with why you’re fighting this so damn hard?"

"Rich, she’s a reporter," he reminded his friend. "What if she puts my dirty little secret in her article?"

"Can’t you just keep that little secret to yourself?"

He thrust his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I don’t think so. Hell, when I kissed her last night, I couldn’t even control my fangs."

"Whoa," Richie exclaimed, "back up. You kissed her?"

"Yeah," Jon answered, "and trust me, that’s not all I wanted to do to her."

"Ok, personal question time," Richie grinned. "Can’t you have sex with a woman without...well, you know...biting her?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"Whether or not I can control the urge. And last night I couldn’t."

"Did you bite her then?" Richie asked.

"No, I pulled away and made her leave."

"Then you controlled it," Richie pointed out.

"Rich, you don’t understand."

"Then explain it to me."

"Rich, I can’t even touch her mind without her knowing it, much less control it. If I bit her, she’s smart enough to start putting it all together."

"Is she someone you could have a relationship with?"

"You know the answer to that."

"Then why won’t you try?"

"I don’t wanna get personally invested in another woman, then her turn on me when she finds out what I am."

"Are you so sure she would turn on you?"

"Honestly, I don’t know."

"Let me ask you something," Richie glanced at the door, then back at Jon. This was the most talkative Jon had been about being a vampire since the night they had been drunk out of their minds ten years ago and his friend had told him his secret. "Remember when you introduced me to Stefan in Greece and Raul in Brazil?"

"Yes," Jon nodded, "and Kristoff in Russia."

"Yeah, yeah," Richie nodded, "all your male vampire friends. Don’t you have any female vamp friends?"

"Not exactly," Jon hedged.

"Why not?"

"There’s not very many female vamps out there. They have to be born vampires. Very few females can be turned vampire."

"Why is that?"

"It tends to turn them into raving lunatics."

"Do you know why?"

"Not exactly. Kristoff’s wife was human, but she has some psychic abilities. She didn’t go crazy when he turned her."

"And you’ve never come across a female vamp while you were out hunting or whatever, and had any kind of connection with her?"

"Female vamps don’t hunt," Jon said quietly.

"Excuse me? Don’t they have to feed like you?"

"No," Jon shook his head. "Their life-mate feeds them. They can only feed from the male they are bound to."

"What about the ones that are born vamps?"

"There aren’t too many of those. But, they must feed from their father, until they find their life-mate."

"And how do you know when you’ve found your life-mate?"

"Uh," Jon looked at Richie questioningly, "why all the questions, Rich?"

"Curious," Richie answered quickly, "and you’ve never been willing to talk about it before."

Jon smiled. "To answer your question, after having sex with your life-mate a mark much like a tattoo will appear on your chest over your heart."

"What does it look like?"

"Sort of like a lightening bolt."

"So, what if Mac is your life-mate?"

"I wouldn’t know without having sex with her, and I can’t do that unless I can control the urge to bite her. But, it’s highly doubtful."

"Ya never know ‘til ya try," Richie told him, grinning.