Hot Blooded

"did we just do?"
    He kissed her before her wonder could turn to fear, discovering he couldn't
quite stop thrusting. Slower was the best he could manage, and hopefully with
more finesse. When her arms came hesitantly around his back, he moved his kiss
to her neck. His beast panted in approval. This was what he needed: to put his
mark on her, to drink in her vibrancy.
    She turned her head to give him access, wanting his bite even if she didn't
realize what that meant. He dragged his tongue along her tendon, tracing a
delicate line of blue. Her calves tightened invitingly behind his hips.
    "Ooh," she said, unable to put into words how nice what he was doing felt.
    "You promised I'd hobble," he murmured against her pulse. "Why don't we see
how long that will take?"
    He sucked her skin, hard, lingering over the anticipation. She was his now,
after all the centuries of loneliness. A heartbeat longer was all he could bear.
With a groan of triumph, he claimed his prize. To his relief, her sigh at his
bite was long, her fingers twining in his hair. As he fed, he tasted a bint of
himself. Most of all, though, and most arousing, he tasted her surrender.

----
Chapter 5
    Â« ^ »
    THE outraged female shriek dragged Bastien from his rest. It came from his
simply appointed bathroom, a match for his spare, Japanese-style room. Bastien
enjoyed the massaging shower jets, but didn't have much use for plumbing aside
from that. Whatever he consumed, in either of his forms, his body converted to
energy.
    Thinking Mariann must have seen her reflection in his full-length mirror—a
myth he enjoyed debunking—he rubbed his face and sat up. His room was shaped
like a dome, with recessed golden lighting that mimicked the rays of the sun.
Thus lit, Mariann looked quite fetching when she stomped back in.
    "Eight pounds," she huffed, fists planted firmly on her naked waist. "How can
a person gain eight pounds overnight?"
    He'd forgotten about the digital scale, acquired for an experiment to see if
he could gain weight. He couldn't, as it turned out, but he'd thought the device
so clever he'd kept it around. Both he and Emile loved technology.
    "Surely you don't think you're fat," he said reasonably.
    "That's not the point. I never gain weight. Never. It drives everyone who
knows me mad."
    "I expect they'd be interested to hear you enjoy it."
    "Well, of course I enjoy it. I'm a woman!"
    He could see this discussion was veering off track. He patted the futon
beside his hip. "We should talk. Come sit down."
    "I don't think it's nice of you to hide your toilet," she added as she
complied. "Plus, I couldn't find a comb or brush. My hair came out all funny
this morning. I look like a poodle."
    He pulled her hand from where it was tugging her glossy curls, which were
transformed just like the rest of her. When humans changed, they became the
ideal expression of their genetics. Height, weight, even age shifted to conform
to rules for beauty that transcended culture and time. That being the case, it
amazed him that she could complain. Women were stranger creatures than he had
guessed.
    "You look wonderful," he said, kissing her knuckles. "Absolutely flawless.
And you obviously needed those extra pounds or you wouldn't have them. I promise
you, though, you'll never have to worry about gaining another."
    She stared at him. "No man can promise a woman that. What if my metabolism is
getting slower? This could be the start of my downhill slide. Pretty soon I'll
be as roly-poly as people expect."
    He didn't know whether to sigh or laugh. Of a certainty, the next few minutes
were going to be more difficult than he thought. He put his hand on her
perfectly rounded thigh. "Mariann, what do you remember about last night… before
we burned up the sheets?"
    "I remember you must have slipped something into my drink."
    "You remember drinking?"
    "No, but—" A strange expression crossed her face, her brain trying to remind
her of the seemingly impossible. Grimacing, she pushed the prodding away. "It
has to be that. I never act the way I did with you—not that it wasn't fun."
    Her faint peach blush charmed him to his toes. He patted her leg in thanks.
"I appreciate the compliment. Now think back, don't you remember riding your
bike home from O'Faolain's? Don't you remember being struck by a car?"
    "Of course I don't. I… oh, my God. Arabella. She ran me down." Her mouth
dropped open and her