A movement in the far corner caught his eye. Glancing sideways, Roshan saw Anthony Loken. He was dancing with a pretty girl wearing a pair of skintight black leather pants and a black midriff top. Her eyes were lined with kohl, she wore black lipstick. Her waist-length, silver blond hair stood out like a shining beacon in a sea of black tresses.

Loken threw back his head, laughing at something she said.

Moving toward the bar, Roshan asked the first single girl he came to if she would care to dance. Leading her onto the dance floor, he drew her into his arms. Careful to keep his back to Loken, he captured the girl's gaze with his. When she was pliant in his arms, he lowered his head, about to drink, when he overheard the voice of the blonde dancing with Loken.

"Why are you looking for a vampire?" she asked in a deliberately throaty voice.

"I'm fascinated by creatures of the night," Loken replied. "Their lifestyle, their longevity, their ability to heal themselves of all but the most fatal of injuries. I'm hoping to find a vampire who will bring me across."

"So, you're in search of the Dark Gift?"

He nodded. "Do you know someone who can bestow it on me?"

"I might."

"Might it be you?" Loken asked.

"No, but I've heard it rumored that a real vampire comes here now and then."

Roshan froze, the girl in his arms momentarily forgotten.

"Does he come here often?" There was no denying the excitement in Loken's voice. "Do you think he'll be here tonight?"

"I don't know. What's it worth to you if I can find out who it is?"

"Honey, if you can do that, you can name your own price."

Roshan swore under his breath. Had someone seen him feeding? Or was the blonde simply telling Loken what he wanted to hear? Damn!

Releasing the girl in his arms from his power, Roshan led her back to the bar, then left the club, his anger rising with his hunger. Damn Loken! The man turned up at the worst times.

He shook his head. He had always been careful when he hunted at the Nocturne. Nevertheless, he would have to find a new place to hunt.

With preternatural speed, he headed for the far side of town. He had little time to waste. Brenna was waiting for him.

It was almost eight o'clock when he returned home. He made a quick trip down to his lair for a change of clothes, then headed for the shower. He noted, in passing, that the bedroom door was closed. He could hear Brenna humming softly inside, felt his desire quicken as he imagined her slipping into the lacy underwear she had told him about.

Twenty minutes later he knocked softly on the bedroom door. "Brenna? Are you ready?"

The door opened and she stood there, a vision in white silk, her red hair like a cloud of silken fire beneath her veil.

She looked up at him, a half-smile playing over her lips as she waited for his reaction.

"Ah, my love," he murmured, "you're beautiful."

"Thank you."

Brenna's gaze moved over the man who would soon be her husband. He looked resplendent in a black tuxedo, so handsome it fairly took her breath away. Even if she hadn't known he was a vampire, she would have known he wasn't mortal. No mere man could exude such power, such inner strength. It was a potent combination.

Careful not to muss her hair or her veil, Roshan drew her into his arms and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"Come," he said, smiling down at her. "We don't want to be late."

Moonlight rained down on the little church in the woods, giving it an otherworldly aura. Lights shone through the stained glass windows, shedding faint rainbow-colored streaks on the ground. Roshan paused at the entrance, his preternatural senses probing the surrounding shadows and the interior of the building before he opened the door and followed Brenna inside.

Father Giovanni Lanzoni was standing at one side of the altar. The priest was of medium height. He had wavy black hair laced with silver at the temple. His eyes were hazel.

A slender, dark-haired man stood beside the priest. Roshan knew immediately that the dark-haired man was a vampire.

A woman dressed in a deep purple gown and long white gloves sat in the first pew. She was not one of the undead, but supernatural power emanated from her. A witch, he thought, and wondered if his bride knew. The woman rose as Brenna drew near.

"My dear, how lovely you look!"

Brenna smiled. "Thank you. Myra, this is Roshan DeLongpre. Roshan, this is Myra Kavanaugh. She owns the bookstore I told you about."

Myra offered Roshan her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"And I you," Roshan replied. Releasing her hand, he turned to the priest. "Good evening, Father."

The priest smiled at him. "It has been a long time."

"Too long. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"As if I would miss an occasion like this one," Father Lanzoni said with an easy grin. "Roshan, this is Vincenzio Fonti. He will be your best man."

Roshan shook Fonti's hand. Power flowed between them. Roshan knew, without knowing how he knew, that Fonti was one of the ancient ones.

"Thank you for coming," Roshan said.

"I am happy to do it," Fonti replied.

Father Lanzoni glanced from Roshan to Brenna. "Are we expecting anyone else?"

"No." Roshan took Brenna's hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "Ready?"

Brenna nodded. It suddenly seemed unreal that she was here, in this church, about to be married to a vampire by a vampire priest. She glanced at Myra, who was staring at Roshan, then at Vincenzio Fonti, who was watching Myra. Brenna clenched her free hand, wondering if Myra suspected something. Did she think it odd that the ceremony was taking place at such a late hour and that neither she or Roshan had any family present? Brenna knew little of what weddings were like in this time and place. In her own village, a marriage had been cause for celebration, with everyone from the oldest patriarch to the newest babe in attendance.

Father Lanzoni took his place in front of the altar and Roshan and Brenna turned to face him. Myra stood at Brenna's left, Fonti at Roshan's right.

"My children," Father Lanzoni began, "we are gathered here this night to join Brenna Flanagan and Roshan DeLongpre in the bonds of holy wedlock, an institution ordained by God for the blessing of His children. There is no secret to a happy marriage," he said, glancing from Brenna to Roshan. "You have only to put your loved one first and yourself second, to treat your spouse as you would be treated, to remember how much you love one another on this day and on every day that follows for as long as God grants you breath.

"I will say the words that bind you together, but the true marriage between the two of you must take place here, in your hearts.

"Brenna, do you promise to love and cherish Roshan, here present, for as long as you shall live?"

Brenna looked at Roshan, her eyes glowing with love. "I do."

"Roshan, do you promise to love and cherish Brenna, here present, for as long as you both shall live?"

He gazed deeply into her eyes. "I do."

"Then, by the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

With great tenderness, Roshan drew Brenna into his embrace. At that moment, he was acutely aware of how very fragile she was. As a mortal, she could easily fall prey to sickness; in a few short years, old age and death would come to steal her away.

"I will love you and no other for as long as you live." he murmured for her ears alone, and then he bent his head to claim his first kiss as her husband.

Heat flowed between them, not the heat of passion, but the gentle warmth of heart speaking to heart as they sealed their vows with a fervent kiss.

"Well done," Father Lanzoni said with a quiet smile. "Well done."

Roshan kissed Brenna one more time, then, taking hold of her hand as if he would never let go, he turned to face the priest.

"Thank you, Father."

"My pleasure, my son."

Fonti shook Roshan's hand. "Congratulations," he said solemnly. "I hope it works out for you."

"Thank you."

Fonti smiled at Brenna. "I wish you every happiness, Mrs. DeLongpre."

"Thank you for coming."

"A lovely ceremony, just lovely," Myra said, coming forward to give Brenna a hug.

"Thank you, and thanks again for being here."

"Oh, I wouldn't have missed it," Myra assured her. She sent a speculative look at Vincenzio Fonti, and then at Roshan. "No, indeed, I wouldn't have missed this for the world. I've arranged for a small reception at my store," she said, smiling at Brenna. "Nothing elaborate, just a small cake and some champagne. And no obligation, of course, if you've already made other plans."

"I am not sure what Roshan wants to do," Brenna replied, looking up at him.

"Whatever you want is fine with me." He looked at Father Lanzoni and Fonti.

"I am afraid I cannot stay," Father Lanzoni said.

"Nor I," Vincenzio said.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Myra said, and there was real regret in her tone. "But you'll come, won't you?" she said, glancing from Brenna to Roshan.

"Of course," Roshan said, "if that's what Brenna wishes."

"Maybe for just a little while," Brenna said.

"It's settled then," Myra said, beaming. "I'll just go open up the shop and see you there." She gave Brenna's hand a squeeze and hurried out of the church.

"There's something about that one," Fonti said. "She is not one of us, but she has powers. Could she be a witch?"

"A witch!" Brenna exclaimed. "Do you think so?"

Fonti nodded. "Her aura is similar to yours, though not so strong."

Brenna frowned. Was Myra a witch? If so, why hadn't she ever mentioned it? And then, realizing what Fonti had said, she looked at him askance. "You think my powers are stronger than hers?"