Brigid lay her head down on the table, seemingly exhausted. Her eyes were weary when they met his. “One thing,” she whispered. “Is it too much to hope that one thing would be like everyone else?”

He leaned down and stroked her hair. “Do you remember the library in Wicklow, love? When you first woke up?”

She shook her head and Carwyn continued, ignoring the curious faces around him as he spoke softly to the tired girl. “It was just as they say. All the furniture had been pushed back against the walls, as if an explosion had gone off. I didn’t think about it until now, but I remember. And there you were, right in the middle of the flames, curled up with not a mark on you. No hair, but no burns either.”

Brigid reached out a hand and placed it over his heart. “There were burns.”

He shook his head. “Not important, remember?”

She closed her eyes and he could almost feel her drooping. “I’m so tired, Carwyn.”

He didn’t spare a glance for Max, Cathy, or Tavish. He didn’t stop to ask. He just stood, scooped Brigid up where she sat, and left the room. He carried her down the hall and toward the tower where he knew she rested, Madoc following them.

Her small voice tore at his heart. “Sometimes I’m tired of being strong.”

“So don’t be,” he said hoarsely. “Just for a little while. We’ll do something fun and silly tomorrow night when you wake. Maybe I’ll even get you to laugh.”

“I know you consider it a personal challenge at this point, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

“I’m a vampire. Don’t really need to breathe, do I?”

“So you’re just going to wait forever?”

If I have to.

He followed Madoc, who sat waiting by one door. Carwyn pushed it open and looked around the room. Simple. Spartan. A few pictures on the dresser were all the decoration she allowed. One of Brigid and her Aunt Sinead. One of her as a child, sitting next to Ioan in the library. The only art was a poster of a sunset over Loch Torridon, the sky painted vivid red, purple, and gold. It was taped over her bed where she would see it when she woke. He smiled as he laid her down and stroked a hand over her cheek. One hand came up to touch his chest and his heart gave a quick thump under her fingers.

“Going to hell for sure,” she murmured.

“What are you talking about?” But before she closed her eyes, he caught it. The look she would never have allowed if she weren’t so exhausted: pure, feminine hunger. Want. For him. Carwyn almost threw his head back and howled in triumph.

“Nothing. I’m talking about nothing. Let’s do something fun tomorrow night, like you said. Even if I don’t laugh, you will.”

He knelt down and whispered a kiss over her cheek, fighting back the urge to crawl in next to her. “I bet you’re gorgeous when you laugh.” Brigid opened her mouth to speak, but her eyes fluttered closed again, and she let out a soft sigh before she slipped into sleep.

“Why… why is he tapping out? He could easily get out of that! Oh, it’s so obvious that was a set up.”

Tavish rolled his eyes. “Of course it was a set up. It’s all set up. It’s professional wrestling.”

“Shut up, Tavish,” Max said.

Cathy shook her head. “Look at his manager. He’s up to something.”

Carwyn grunted. “You know he broke up with his girlfriend last month. I wonder if that’s thrown him off.”

“His girlfriend?” Max asked. “You mean the one who does tag team with the redhead?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“They were dating for months. No wonder he’s off his game.”

“So ridiculous,” muttered Tavish. “You know it’s all—”

“Shut up, Tavish!”

Cathy, Max, and Carwyn were staring in fascination at the spectacle on the screen. Tavish was reading an agricultural journal and rolling his eyes at his family. Carwyn had woken in the early afternoon and immediately decided to answer Brigid’s long-standing suspicion about professional wrestling. It was just the sort of ridiculous escape the girl needed.

The next match was cued up by the excited announcers with the American accents that Cathy imitated to everyone’s amusement. The three were watching the main event with such attention that Carwyn barely registered the soft footfalls that entered the room. They paused at the door. Came closer. Then a giggle came from the back of the room. He turned his head.

It was Brigid.

“You…” She snickered. “You really…” Her face fell and she burst into peals of laughter as her eyes darted between the television and the four vampires who sat in front of it.

Carwyn shot to his feet, the fight on the screen forgotten. She was laughing—really laughing—and he’d been right; she was glorious.

“You do watch it!” She gasped, clutching her stomach. “That’s the most… I can’t believe you’re actually watching it!” She burst into another round of laughter while she wiped bloody tears from her eyes with the edge of her shirt. “I mean, I didn’t really believe them when they told me. Why on earth would anyone…” She gasped again and her eyes met his. “A thousand years old? And you— why? It’s so ridiculous!”

“And fake!” Tavish called out, but he ignored him. Carwyn ignored everyone in the room except for the beautiful woman who laughed in front of him. Brigid’s face was lit with a fire within. Joy. She was overflowing with it. Pure, carefree…