Dead to the World

it’s a gracious plenty?”
    “A gracious plenty. I like that,” he said.
    He was ready again, and honestly, I didn’t know if I could. I was worn out to the point of wondering if I’d be walking funny the next day.
    I indicated I would be pleased with an alternative by sliding down in the bed, and he seemed delighted to reciprocate. After another sublime release, I thought every muscle in my body had turned to Jell-O. I didn’t talk anymore about the worry I felt about my brother, about the terrible things that had happened in Shreveport, about anything unpleasant. We whispered some heartfelt (on my part) mutual compliments, and I was just out of it. I don’t know what Eric did for the rest of the night, because I fell asleep.
    I had many worries waiting for me the next day; but thanks to Eric, for a few precious hours I just didn’t care.

Chapter  7
    T HE NEXT MORNING, THE SUN WAS SHINING OUTSIDE when I woke. I lay in bed in a mindless pool of contentment. I was sore, but pleasantly so. I had a little bruise or two—nothing that would show. And the fang marks that were a dead giveaway (har-de-har) were not on my neck, where they’d been in the past. No casual observer was going to be able to tell I’d enjoyed a vampire’s company, and I didn’t have an appointment with a gynecologist—the only other person who’d have a reason to check that area.
    Another shower was definitely called for, so I eased out of bed and wobbled across the floor to the bathroom. We’d left it in something of a mess, with towels tossed everywhere and the shower curtain half-ripped from its plastic hoops (when had that happened?), but I didn’t mind picking it up. I rehung the curtain with a smile on my face and a song in my heart.
    As the water pounded on my back, I reflected that I must be pretty simple. It didn’t take much to make me happy. A long night with a dead guy had done the trick. It wasn’t just the dynamic sex that had given me so much pleasure (though that had contained moments I’d remember till the day I died); it was the companionship. Actually, the intimacy.
    Call me stereotypical. I’d spent the night with a man who’d told me I was beautiful, a man who’d enjoyed me and who’d given me intense pleasure. He had touched me and held me and laughed with me. We weren’t in danger of making a baby with our pleasures, because vampires just can’t do that. I wasn’t being disloyal to anyone (though I’ll admit I’d had a few pangs when I thought of Bill), and neither was Eric. I couldn’t see the harm.
    As I brushed my teeth and put on some makeup, I had to admit to myself that I was sure that the Reverend Fullenwilder wouldn’t agree with my viewpoint.
    Well, I hadn’t been going to tell him about it, anyway. It would just be between God and me. I figured God had made me with the disability of telepathy, and he could cut me a little slack on the sex thing.
    I had regrets, of course. I would love to get married and have babies. I’d be faithful as can be. I’d be a good mom, too. But I couldn’t marry a regular guy, because I would always know when he lied to me, when he was angry with me, every little thought he had about me. Even dating a regular guy was more than I’d been able to manage. Vampires can’t marry, not yet, not legally; not that a vampire had asked me, I reminded myself, tossing a washcloth into the hamper a little forcefully. Perhaps I could stand a long association with a Were or a shifter, since their thoughts weren’t clear. But there again, where was the willing Were?
    I had better enjoy what I had at this moment—something I’ve become quite good at doing. What I had was a handsome vampire who’d temporarily lost his memory and, along with it, a lot of his personality: a vampire who needed reassurance just as much as I did.
    In fact, as I put in my earrings, I figured out that Eric had been so delighted with me for more than one reason. I could see that after days of being completely without memories of his possessions or underlings, days lacking any sense of self, last night he had gained something of his own—me. His lover.
    Though I was standing in front of a mirror, I wasn’t really seeing my reflection. I was seeing, very clearly, that—at the moment—I was all in the world that Eric could think of as his own.
    I had better not fail him.
    I was rapidly bringing myself down from “relaxed happiness” to “guilty grim resolution,” so I was relieved