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demonstration of it. He’d never put such a tight rein on himself. And she just sat there. Observing. Adding to his torment.
    “The codicil is like the fine print that nobody reads.”
    “You made a deal with the devil and you didn’t expect fine print?” The tight rein was slipping. It sounded in his voice. He should have kept to short answers.
    “I’m a vampire, Darryl. Not a devil. They’re worlds apart.”
    “You suck blood, don’t you? You took mine. Sounds pretty satanic to me.”
    She smiled. He lurched, jostled the bullet, groaned, and settled back into the same spot. And she was watching the entire time. Waiting. As if she knew what he suffered. And the cure.
    “You’re right. We feed. We suck blood. But it’s nothing like what happened when I bit you.”
    Darryl looked up. Above the wall. Toward the ceiling this time. This was a really cozy room. The ceiling was maybe seven feet above the floor, and painted white with wide dark stained wooden beams intersecting the space. Shadows were bouncing about the beams from her fireplace. The view was pretty innocuous. And his voice might work.
    “I don’t know if I can explain. I can try.”
    “Do you have to?”
    He probably got what was a snicker. He didn’t look down to check. And, then she started speaking again.
    “I’ve never felt like that. Actually…I’ll backtrack. I can’t remember feeling. I couldn’t. That’s the codicil. Become a vampire and you’ll get a never-ending cycle of days followed by nights to spend on nothing. Time passes. Perceptions change. You start to understand that material things haven’t much value because time is a great equalizer. That’s all a vampire has. Time. Endless. Blank. Boring. Only one thing changes that. Finding our mate. A-a-and then everything changes. Things…alter. Weird things…happen. Parts…reanimate. Regenerate. They come alive. Or something.”
    Now, she was whispering. And stuttering. And sounding altogether virginal and young and shy.
    “You’re my mate, Darryl.”
    “How about I just say no.”
    Avoiding looking at her wasn’t working. Nothing was. He took a deep breath and looked down. She’d moved. She was on her hands and knees, and right at his side, her mouth inches from his. And all he could envision was locking lips and tangling tongues. This was heading from weird to he’d be looking for a priest in the morning, if he didn’t do something to stop it. That’s when Darryl realized his stupidity. He had the means to counteract whatever spell she was weaving. It was already encased within him. Pain could kick any desire for copulating. Easily. He pulled in both buttocks and held tight, waiting for the familiar burn to course his legs, rendering them pretty much useless. He got pain all right. He also got another full dose of hand-sewn quilt where he least needed it. And for some reason, lust even tempered the pain. And then overrode it.
    “You can say no. That doesn’t change it.”
    She licked her lips after that and moved closer. She had spike-tipped fangs just starting to dent the plump shape of her lower lip. It should scare the hell out of him. It didn’t. It sent his raging get-the-dress-off-her lust even higher. He wanted to be deep in her. Buried. Pumping. As if he still could.
    “Look…uh. Lady. I…I have to tell you something.”
    “Can I get you to call me Reika? Please?”
    She could get him to call her just about anything. Darryl bit back the instant reply. He couldn’t fight this. All he wanted was to react. But he had to tell her. If he was her mate, and she only got sex if it was with him, she was getting the raw end of this deal. And in a moment it was going to be obvious.
    “Listen. Reika. This, uh. This isn’t...going to work.”
    “Please?”
    “I have an injury that…affects things.”
    “I know.”
    “Nobody knows,” he informed her.
    “You have a bullet fragment lodged between your lumbar and sacral curve. Lower spine. Inoperable.