Nick reached for the ceiling, shuddering as Gabriel stood and followed the length of her arms with his hands, first up to her wrists, then down the insides. His thumbs explored the soft crescent spaces under her arms—two places on her body that Nick had never considered erotic until that moment—before chasing the line of her ribs.

The foam on his hands, she saw, had been washed away. "You need more soap." And she needed to step out of here before she wound herself around him like a starving octopus.

"You need to eat more," he murmured, moving his hands under her breasts to cradle her waist. "You feel so thin."

"I've got a weird metabolism. I told you I wasn't much to look at," she tried to joke. She glanced down to see what he was doing and saw his erect cock, the slick, engorged head pushing out from his foreskin, bobbing between them.

His palms grazed over her breasts, dragging at the tightly puckered nipples. "Are you cold?"

"Not exactly." She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. "I see a spot I missed."

Now Nick went on her knees, steadying herself with one hand on his thigh. Soap still clung to her breasts, and she cupped them, catching his penis between the inner curves and massaging him from the purple-red tip down to the broad base.

Gabriel's hand slapped the tile wall as he braced himself. "What are you doing, ma mie?"

"Guess." She tilted her head, allowing the shower spray to rinse off the foam before bending her head and kissing the glans.

His hand threaded through the wet curls at the back of her head. "Faites comme vous voulez."

Nick nipped the inside of his arm. "Oh, I intend to do exactly as I please."

She moved up and then down, sliding his shaft between her breasts. She gave the straining head of his cock a quick, light suck when it came up far enough to touch her lips, and then freed it to squeeze it between her aching breasts.

Nick knew that, much as she wanted to, she couldn't spend the afternoon playing with him in the shower. As soon as she felt his shaft swell and tighten, she released her breasts and took him in her mouth. Breathing in and pushing down until her lips met his body, she held him and caressed him with her tongue, sucking as he muttered her name, as his hand pulled at her hair, as his hips jerked. His semen burst from his cock in one long, delicious gush, as cool and thick as cream.

Nick loved how good it felt to give him the pleasure he had been denied for so long. She let him slide from her lips with slow, greedy reluctance. "All nice and clean now."

Gabriel lifted her up to meet his mouth, and kissed her so deeply and passionately she almost came right there. But the water had turned cold, and if they stayed any longer someone would be coming upstairs to see what was going on.

"We gotta get out of here." She reached behind him and shut off the spray.

"You owe me the payback now," Gabriel told her, pulling her closer. "And I very much want to collect."

She chuckled. "It'll have to wait until we get to your place." She nuzzled his chest. "We seem to have this thing going with water. Have you got a good, hot shower?"

"Five of them, and a sunken bath, and a whirlpool." He kissed the wet top of her head. "We will make love in all of them."

Nick dried off with Gabriel, dressed, and left him in the room while she went downstairs to pack the bike and settle her bill. After she had thanked Jean for a pleasant stay and made one final arrangement, she made a detour to Adélie's washroom and swiped some of Jean's freshly laundered clothing from a basket, and brought it up to the room.

"I will be seen wearing this when we leave," Gabriel said as he dressed.

"No, you won't. The innkeeper and his wife went out for dinner." Nick tried not to watch him, but her eyes kept straying to his body and the way he moved. Being this close to him, smelling him, remembering how his cock felt gliding in and out of her mouth only made her want more. Nick was beginning to feel like a socket without a plug. If she didn't get her libido under control, being around Gabriel was going to turn her into a sex maniac.

Annoyed with herself, she finished checking the room to make sure she hadn't left anything behind before she handed her jacket and helmet to Gabriel. "Put this on."

"You should wear them."

"Claudio only saw me once," she said as she put on her darkest sunglasses and tied a red bandanna around her hair. "You need to keep your face covered until we put some miles between us and the holy freaks."

"I meant that you should wear them for your own safety," he told her. "A fall from your motorcycle will not harm me. It could kill you."

After all Gabriel had been through, he was worried about her. The man was too sweet for his own good.

"I don't fall off my bike." She took the helmet and fit it over his head before adjusting the chinstrap. "Keep the visor down; your eyes are shining like little traffic lights."

In back of the inn, Nick secured the panniers and checked her fuel tank before climbing onto the seat and holding the bike steady while Gabriel did the same. Carrying the additional weight would make the engine use more petrol, so she made a mental adjustment on where and when she would stop for refueling.

"Ready?" she asked before she hit the ignition.

His hands gripped her hips. "Oui."

To avoid attention, Nick took the back alleyways out of the village and detoured around the road that led to the chateau. From there it was a straight run through the farmlands to La Garonne, which she followed to Toulouse, the capital of the Midi-Pyrenees region, nestled at the foot of the mountains that had long served as a natural boundary between Spain and France.

Nick loved riding through this part of France during the day. The roads were long, uncluttered by traffic, and wound through villages that looked like they'd avoided the ravages of time for the last four or five hundred years. People planted flowers everywhere, and where they couldn't they hung garlands and wreaths and swags of dried corn, wildflowers, and berries. The air sometimes smelled of oranges, sometimes of grapes, and sometimes of fresh laundry still flapping in the breeze. Nick was sure there were ugly villages somewhere in France, just not here.

Unfortunately she couldn't take Gabriel out during the day. Even if she did, he couldn't see France as she did. He'd never see anything again, thanks to the holy freak show.

Nick didn't consider old people fair game, but she still wished she could go back to the chateau and beat Father Claudio to a wrinkly pulp.

She stopped in a meadow about a mile from the city to let her passenger stretch his legs while she checked the bike. She took out her portable lantern and looked around to see if there were any dandelions in the general vicinity before she propped it on the seat.

Crickets chirped in one loud, creaking chorus around them as Gabriel removed the helmet and hung it by the strap from the back of the seat.

His hand brushed the lantern. "A light?"

"It's pretty dark out here," she said as she knelt by the front tire. "I need it to check the bike. And the local weeds."

"Weeds?"

"From a nightmare I had about vampire weeds. Dandelions with fangs." She shuddered. "I am never making another wish on them as long as I live."

"Nor will I," he said. "But, Nicola, is it not dangerous for you to be driving this machine at night?"

"Not at all. The bike has a good headlight, and I'm used to it." He sounded weak again. She hadn't been to any hospitals specifically in Toulouse, but she knew how to get in and out of one quickly. "You need more blood, don't you?"

"Not for some time. I am accustomed to going without feeding for weeks, even months." He cocked his head. "That is an interesting sound. Tell me what you are doing."

"Loosening up." She had taken her baseball bat from the back of the bike and swung it a few times. "It would help if you could pitch me some balls."

"May I?" He held out his hand.

She placed her most precious possession in his grasp. "It's a homemade baseball bat. My stepdad made it for me when I got homesick for America. All the kids in the village were into soccer and cricket and English stuff, so he used to pitch balls to me after dinner every night." She grabbed the lantern from the seat of the bike. "I really love baseball."

He ran his hands over the smooth wood. "You came to England when you were young?"

"Thirteen. My real dad died when I was a baby, and my Mom and I were alone until then. She met Malcolm through this Internet site for widows and stuff. I had a fit when she told me we were moving to England, but Mal had this great place, and he didn't push me to call him Dad or anything, and…" She pressed her fingers against her eyes. "Anyway, it worked out."

He handed her the bat but didn't release it, using it instead to lure her over to an old olive tree. "Come and sit with me."

Nick carried the lantern over and sat down beside him, bracing her back against the tree. The long bike ride had another, less convenient side effect—all that vibration between her legs had kept her damp and edgy. She would not think about climbing onto Gabriel's lap and kissing him and rubbing up against him. However much she wanted to. "You said you'd tell me more about this thing between the holy freaks and the Kyn."

"The Darkyn," he corrected, tapping her leg with the end of the baseball bat. "That is what we have been called since we first changed into vrykolakas."

A soft, fluttering sensation made her flinch, until she saw it came from a small green moth that had landed on her arm. Drawn by the light. She didn't try to brush it away. "Vrykola-what?"

He repeated the word slowly, drawing out the syllables. "That is what people once called souls damned by their sins. Cursed to wander through eternity and feed only on the blood of the innocent."

"It means all that?" She eyed the moth, which wandered down to her elbow. Another, larger brown moth joined it, and they circled each other, dancing on her skin. "No wonder it's a mouthful." The comical movements of the moths made her chuckle.