"What were you and Ramsey talking about?" Grigori asked. "It looked serious."

"It was."

Grigori pulled off the freeway onto a narrow side street. "Are you going to tell me," he asked, putting the gear shift in park, "or make me guess?"

"She's in love with him."

Grigori laughed softly. "A blind man could see that."

"He's worried about it. He thinks it's wrong for them to be together."

"I see." He slid a glance at the woman beside him, attuned, as always, to every gesture, every nuance in her voice and expression. He wondered if she knew that Ramsey was in love, not with Kelly but with her.

"I told him that he was being ridiculous, that you and I were perfectly happy together."

Grigori grunted softly, wondering who she was trying to convince.

"I told him there was no reason he couldn't have a good life with Kelly."

"Go on."

"He said..." She turned her head and looked out the window.

"What did he say?"

"He said that sooner or later I would regret our marriage."

Grigori's hand tightened on the steering wheel as he fought to maintain his calm. Damn Ramsey! That sanctimonious jackass! "Do you believe that?"

"No."

"Marisa, look at me."

She turned her head. He could see her face clearly even in the darkness - the soft curve of her cheek, her full pink lips - but it was her eyes that held his gaze. She had beautiful eyes, as green as fine jade. Expressive eyes that could not lie.

"I don't regret anything," she said fervently. "I love you, Grigori. I always will."

He couldn't wait any longer. Switching off the engine, he drew her into his arms and kissed her, heat spiraling through him like summer sunshine as she melted into his embrace. It had ever been like that between them, he mused. A look, a touch, and the fire that had pulsed between them from the first sprang to full flame.

He murmured her name as he kissed her, the sweetness of her kiss flowing over him, soothing him, arousing him. She tilted her head to one side, granting him access to her throat, moaning with pleasure as his teeth grazed her neck.

"Marisa?"

He didn't take from her often, took only a few small sips when he did, and never without asking her first. She found it very endearing somehow, especially since she had never refused him, would never think of refusing him.

There was no pain, only a quick heat followed by a languid sense of pleasure. And then he was kissing her again, his clever mouth arousing her, making her think of dark nights and satin sheets and the ecstasy of his body pressing against hers.

"Let's go home," she said. "Hurry."

He smiled at her, his eyes hot as he opened the door and got out of the car. Rounding the vehicle, he opened her door and swept her into his arms.

"What are you doing?" she gasped.

"Taking you home the fastest way I know how," he said.

There was a faint roaring in her ears, a dizzying sense of incredible acceleration as he moved through the night with preternatural speed toward home.

She was laughing when he set her on her feet in their living room moments later. "You really were in a hurry, weren't you?"

He nuzzled her neck, his tongue a flaming caress against her skin. "Tell me you aren't?"

She wrapped her arms around him, her heart pounding with joy and excitement. Once, she had been afraid of him, but no more. No more.

He was the air she breathed, the center of her world, the reason for her existence.

She closed her eyes, felt his power breathe across her skin. One day soon, she would ask him to make her as he was. But not now. Not tonight. Tonight she was content to be mortal.

She sighed his name as he kissed her again and she was caught up in the magic that was Grigori.