Not as powerful as himself, but perhaps as powerful as David, whose bloodline was purer than the other immortals because he was so old. Powerful enough, no doubt, to easily detect Seth’s presence if he were to try to peek into her thoughts.

Yet she was neither immortal nor a gifted one.

It was a puzzle he had not been able to solve. And he wished now that the minds of the many dozens of armed guards he and David had had to wade through in order to save her had provided an answer. The men in white lab coats who had been torturing her no doubt could have told him but had been slain out of sheer fury, their knowledge dying with them.

She made a motion with her head, urging him to respond to her silent question.

“Am I all right?” he repeated. Looking away, he stared, unblinking, at the wall opposite him. The automated I’m fine he usually trotted out in response to the question stuck in his throat. “Not really.”

He didn’t offer her an explanation. He doubted telling her about the man he had failed so miserably—the man who had needed his help as much as she had—would reassure her and gain her trust.

Sighing, he leaned his head back.

How had he missed it? How had Sebastien’s cries gone unheard?

Gathering the loose material of her nightgown around her, the mystery woman lowered herself to the floor beside him … beyond arm’s reach, of course. Seated with her back to the wall, she covered those tiny feet with the white material, then wrapped her arms around bent knees.

Her movements ceased.

Quiet descended around them. Seth’s thoughts continued to swirl as she offered him silent solace.

Sprawled on the steps that led to the whirlpool tub, Roland watched as Sarah blow-dried her hair. The bathroom, which connected to the bedroom they had claimed for their own, was as sumptuous as the one he had painstakingly installed in his own former home.

He and Sarah had just shared a very passionate interlude in the tub behind him. She was so beautiful and sensual and funny. No other woman had ever made him laugh during sex. But, with Sarah, he would be mindless with lust one moment and roaring with laughter the next when she made some wildly inappropriate or jesting remark between gasps of ecstasy.

And he enjoyed making her laugh even more, treasured every chuckle he elicited.

A smile curled his lips.

Yesterday morning, when they had retired, he had tossed her onto the bed on her back, told her to hold on tight to the headboard, then pretended he was so far gone with lust that he couldn’t get her pants off. Removing her boots, he had grasped the hem of each pant leg—knowing her belt wouldn’t let them slide down her hips—and pulled hard. Sarah had squealed as her body had risen off the bed at least a foot.

The black jeans hadn’t budged.

Feigning frustration, Roland had growled and yanked and shook. Her body had swung wildly from side to side and bobbed up and down as though she were on an out-of-control hammock. And all the while she had clung to the headboard, dissolving into giggles that made his heart go soft and warm.

Damn, he loved her.

He loved everything about her.

So much that he couldn’t breathe when he contemplated losing her and returning to his customarily cold, isolated existence.

The scent of ripe strawberries filled the room as she directed hot air through her soft brown tresses. A white towel hugged her slender curves from breasts to midthigh, slipping lower and baring more cleavage as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

There were two sinks in front of her, above which hung two oval-shape framed mirrors. They had found everything they needed among David’s supplies. His toothbrush, comb, men’s deodorant, and straight razor were clustered around the sink on the left. Scattered around the sink on the right were Sarah’s toothbrush, ladies’ deodorant, comb, styling gel, elastic ties, the toothpaste and shaving cream they shared, and, when she wasn’t using them, her brush and the hair dryer.

He liked seeing their things together, mixing and mingling like a married couple’s.

He liked watching her perform such mundane tasks as drying or braiding her hair. It was why he hadn’t bothered to dry his own, merely running a comb through it and dragging on a pair of jeans before settling in to observe her.

It had rapidly become his favorite pastime. He felt so at peace in these moments. Almost as at peace as he did when he held her as she slept.

The whine of the dryer stopped. Sarah met his gaze in the mirror as she unplugged it and set it aside. “You’re smiling,” she said softly, the corners of her own lips turning up.

He nodded, still surprised by how naturally smiles and laughter came to him now.

She ran a brush through her hair, then set it on the counter.

He sat up, knees splayed, as she turned away from the mirror and approached him. Her cheeks and the tips of her ears were pink from the blow dryer, her skin warm and deli-ciously fragrant.

“I like it when you smile,” she confessed tenderly, tunneling her fingers through his damp hair.

Sighing in bliss, he leaned forward, wrapped his arms around her, and rested his cheek against her stomach just beneath her breasts.

“You make me smile,” he murmured, no longer fighting his feelings for her. He knew it wouldn’t last, that he would lose her in the end, but had not the strength to resist the lure of the happiness—however brief it may be—that she brought him.

Tilting his head back, he rested his chin on her flat stomach and stared up at her. “My life was so barren before we met, Sarah. I couldn’t feel anything anymore. Didn’t let myself feel anything.” Reaching up, he stroked her lovely face. “Then you came along with your courage and teasing and passion and woke me up.”

She cupped his face in one hand, brushing her thumb across his cheek.

“Now I feel so much that, at times, it overwhelms me,” he admitted. “I laugh. I want. I need. I live, Sarah. Because of you.”

Her eyes glimmered with moisture. “I love you, Roland.”

He rose and gathered her into a loose embrace. “I love you, too.”

A tear spilled over her lashes as she smiled up at him. “I am so glad I decided to dig my garden that morning.”

He grinned and stole a kiss. “I am, too.”

She bit her lip. “Even though I’m going to grow old?”

A sobering fact he tried not to contemplate. “We can’t know exactly what the future has in store for us. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that, young or old, I will love you every day we have together and will love you every day thereafter. I don’t pretend to understand how this could have happened so swiftly, but it has. I …” He broke off, uncertain.

“What?”

“I have little experience with this.” He hadn’t even tried to court a woman in centuries. “So I don’t know if it is crass to say this or not.”

She gave him a squeeze. “You can tell me anything.”

Drawing a deep breath, he shared with her the revelation that had come to him over the preceding days. “This is the first time in my nine and a half centuries of existence that I’ve truly fallen in love.”

The words definitely took her by surprise. “But, I thought …”

“I never felt anything close to this with Beatrice. She and I were more like friends with benefits. And with Mary I had even less.”

She stared up at him, saying nothing.

Unease crept in as he began to wonder if he had just put his foot in it. “Sarah? You aren’t blinking, love. What are you thinking?”

Her stomach growled. “You are so getting laid again after I refuel.”

Emitting a bark of relieved laughter, he hugged her to him.

The bleating of his cell phone made him swear. “It’s probably Chris or Marcus reporting in.”

Releasing her, he strode through the doorway into the bedroom and retrieved his cell phone from the bedside table. “Yeah.”

“It’s Chris. I have something you need to see. All of you.”

“When and where?”

“An hour. There at David’s place. I just didn’t want to call the meeting without you okaying it first.”

He frowned. “Who are you calling in?”

“Marcus, Lisette, Étienne, and Seth.”

“Étienne is in town?” He was one of Lisette’s brothers.

Chris made a sound of impatience. “He’s lived in Winston-Salem for the past thirty years!”

Roland scowled. Winston-Salem was only fifty or sixty miles away.

Sarah joined him and touched his arm, offering comfort.

“If we meet here, one of you might inadvertently lead Bastien to us and put Sarah in danger.”

“Since I assume you won’t leave her there alone, that could be said about any meeting place you choose. David’s house is the safest bet. It has an excellent security system and several secret escape routes.”

“What secret escape routes?”

Sarah’s eyebrows flew up.

A long-suffering sigh came across the line and Roland could guess what the man was thinking: If he hadn’t shut David out, he would already know.

“I’ll tell you when I get there. I have to make these calls.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, hanging up. “Chris has found something and is calling a meeting.”

“Here?”

“Yes, they’ll be here in an hour.”

She went to the armoire and started pulling out clothing. “Who? Him and Marcus?”

“Yes, plus Seth, Lisette, and Étienne.”

Even though it had been less than an hour since they had made love, his body hardened as she tossed aside the towel and pulled on a pair of white bikini panties.

“Who is Étienne?” Her bountiful breasts swayed as she reached for a pair of black cargo pants, nipples still rosy from his earlier attentions.

“I can’t remember. All the blood in my head just rushed to my groin.”

She glanced at the erection straining against his zipper, then dropped the pants. A sly smile tilted her lips as her eyelids lowered slightly. Eyeing him as though she were imagining him naked and plunging inside her, she slowly began to circle the perimeter of the room.