Immortals After Dark 12 - Lothaire

course. When they did get to sleep together, he had to chain himself to the bed. As he’d explained, “No more unplanned trips for my Bride.”
    And there were the matters of a bitch squatting inside Ellie and a ring to be found. Not to mention the constant tension she’d sensed in him, as if he was battling some force within himself.
    One night after they’d made love, he’d murmured, “I wish I could tellyou the things on my mind.” Just the fact that he wanted to confide in her meant much. “You could help me see them clearly.”
    Yet no matter how much she asked, he wouldn’t tell her. Maybe he was just growing impatient to turn her into a vampire. Could that explain the strain she’d begun to see on his beautiful face?
    She was not so eager to be turned.
    The idea of transforming into another species was terrifying to her. How could she not mourn all the things she’d be giving up forever? Her mother’s fried chicken, waffles, beer.
    Sunshine . She’d asked him, “Do you ever wish you could spend a day lazing in the sun?”
    “I can’t miss what I’ve never known.”
    “But I could.”
    “We’ll see about that. . . .”
    Most of all, she would miss her loved ones.
    He’d told her, “You’ll never see them again, Elizabeth. I am your family now—you took my name the instant I claimed you. Your loyalty is to me alone.”
    Even if she believed she could wiggle around that proclamation, there were other worries.
    She’d learned that there were virtually no female vampires in the Lore—because they’d all died of some kind of immortal plague, one that only affected them. “What if I catch the plague when you turn me?” she’d asked him.
    “That should be the last of your worries. Worry about assassins, wars, torturers. But not a sickness.”
    “Is your world always so violent?”
    He’d admitted, “The Lore is a . . . ruthless place.”
    To survive in it, Ellie would have to grow more aggressive, callous even. He’d told her that the ones who survived longest were the notorious ones, the immortals with reputations based on some bold coup or brave deed.
    In prison, she’d worked so hard to hold on to her humanity. Now she would be expected to throw it away.
    Did she want to be with him badly enough? To change herself so drastically?
    If she loved him, she might. But she didn’t . Not at all. Mind over mind. Only a fool would love him. . . .
    Besides, every time she felt like she was in danger of falling for him, they’d have an argument over something.
    A few nights ago, when he’d been obsessively poring over his prized account book, she’d cleaned up some debris from his various rages and washed their linens.
    He’d been aghast. “You . . . you cleaned ?”
    “Someone had to. I don’t like sleeping on dirty sheets.”
    “Until we can hire servants, we transfer to another room. Another property, even! No Bride of mine cleans .”
    “You keep trying to change me, the way I talk and act. You’re gonna alter my very species to fit yours. When will you change something for me?”
    “This ancient dog will learn no new tricks. Besides, it’s a female’s place to adjust to her male.”
    Ellie had bitten her tongue to keep from screaming at him. At times with him, she bit her tongue so hard it’d bleed.
    And they’d quarreled because of his irrational jealousy. One night, he’d taken her to a creek she used to swim in when younger. “Why did you bring me here, Lothaire?”
    “You once liked this place.”
    She’d loved it there. Yet her thrill over the thoughtful gesture had faded directly. “How’d you know that?” The vampire must have seen her here—at night . “You spied on me?”
    “I spy on everyone. Why would you be different? Soon you will go spying with me.”
    Then realization had dawned. “Oh, my God, you’re the one who hurt Davis, the boy I was with. You saw us together, and you threw him down a gully. He broke both of his legs!”
    “He lived ?” Gaze narrowing, Lothaire had murmured, “Not for much longer.”
    Ellie had barely kept him from searching out her old beau with intent to do murder.
    Getting him to forgive Thaddeus was just as much of an uphill battle. “Come on, Lothaire,” Ellie had said. “He only wants to visit us at Hag’s. He can help guard me when you’re away.”
    “Forget it.”
    “He’s your best friend.” Not necessarily because Lothaire cared anything about Thaddeus, but because the boy cared more about Lothaire