Can't lie, can't lie. "No. Not yet. I met someone. I met a...man. And I'm staying with him."
"A man?" Regin gasped. "Oooh, you want to bite him, don't you? Or have you already? Oh, Freya, I knew this would happen."
"What do you mean, you knew this would happen?" The coven had forbidden Emma to drink straight from a living source because they didn't want her to accidentally kill. Plus they believed blood was mystically alive when inside a being, its powers - and side effects - dying when outside. It had never been a problem for Emma. In New Orleans, they had delivery from a Lore-owned blood-bank setup, the number on speed dial like Domino's.
"Em, this was law. You knew better than to get dental with somebody."
"But I - "
"Hey, Lucia," Regin called out, not even bothering to mute the phone. "Pay up, suckah, Emma got dental with some dude - "
"No, I didn't!" Emma said in a rush. "I've never gotten dental!" How many Valkyrie were home to hear Regin? "You placed bets about me?" She strove not to sound as dismayed as she was by this. Was Regin the only one who thought Emma would behave as other vampires would? That she would slip up - or revert to her true vampire nature? Or did they all share Emma's fear that she might turn killer?
"If not to drink him, then what would you want with a man? Huh?"
Her voice quavering with anger, Emma said, "What any woman wants! I'm no different from you - "
"You want to, like, sleep with him?"
Why did she sound that disbelieving? "Maybe I do!"
Regin sucked in a breath. "Who are you and what have you done with my niece's body? Come on, Em! You've never even had a date and all of a sudden you're meeting a 'man' and thinking about lifting tail? You, sweet seventy and never been kissed? Don't you think it's a little more likely that you want to drink him?"
"No, it's not like that," she insisted. The vampires in the Horde sublimated the sexual urge. Blood lust and the need to kill ruled them. And for all these years, Emma had not been a sexual person. She'd never been in a sexual situation.
Until last night.
She felt a glimmer of hope. She'd been aroused by Lachlain. She'd felt regular lust - not blood lust. And she'd been so close. Even tonight, she'd been to the edge with him. Could she use him to answer this question once and for all? She bit her lip, thinking of the possibility.
"Have you gotten yourself into trouble?" Regin asked. Emma could hear her narrowing her eyes. "Is someone there right now?"
"No, I'm alone in my room. Is this really so hard to believe?"
"Okay, I'll play. Who is he? How did you meet?"
This could get tricky. "He was a stranger. I met him outside of Notre Dame among the vendor stands."
"And? Want to not be the secretive vamp you always are and spill the details? If this is true..."
"As if I can lie! All right, you want to know? I think he's...he's wildly handsome!" With emphasis on wild. "He knows what I am and we're leaving Paris together."
"Great Freya, you're serious. What's he like?"
"He's strong. Said he'd protect me." Great kisser. Intermittently insane. With a broad chest she'd wanted to lick like ice cream.
In a scoffing tone, Regin asked, "Strong enough to take down a vampire?"
"You have no idea." Getting out of town with a powerful Lykae - the natural-born enemy of the vampires - was sounding more and more like a bingo idea. But then she frowned. If Lachlain hadn't been the danger they'd warned her of, then what was his agenda? What did he want with her? Why didn't he simply kill the vampire he'd captured?
A suspicion tickled her mind, but she mentally scratched it away. He can't even drive a car - obviously he needs help. And I'm from the Lore...
"When are you leaving Paris?"
"Tonight. Right now, actually."
"That's good, at least. Tell me where you're going."
"So Annika can come drag me home by my ear?" And fight Lachlain to the death? "Nope. Tell her I'll be home week after next at the latest, and that if she tries to find me, I'll know she doesn't trust that I am more than capable of taking care of myself - "
Regin snorted, then laughed outright.
"I can take care of myself." Her tone hurt, she asked, "Why is that funny?"
Shrieking laughter.
"Piss off, Regin! You know what? I'll send you a postcard!"
She slammed the phone down, then snatched up her boots. Stomping into the first one, she muttered angrily, "I will so go." Another boot shoved on. "And I won't be catching any Stockholm syndrome."
When the phone rang seconds later, she yanked it back up. "What?"
"Alrighty then, have it your way - you're officially on your own," Regin said, then sniffled as if she'd cried from laughing so hard. "Now, if you come across a leech, no offense, remember your training."
"None taken. And would that be the sword training where you fly past my defenses and swat me on the ass, chirping, 'Dead!'? Another swat. 'Dead!'? Yeah, I'll get right on that."
"No, that would be the training where you sprint like hell whenever you hear that I'm looking for you to train."
Once she'd hung up the telephone again, Lachlain strode around the corner without even acting like he hadn't listened.
She jumped again, then her brows drew together. "You eavesdropped, didn't you?"
"Aye," he answered without compunction.
"Learn anything new?" she asked in a nervous tone.
Not really. "Your accent's odd and you speak too quickly," he answered honestly. Then he smirked. "But I did hear that you think me 'wildly handsome.' " He wondered why he'd felt a flush of pleasure at that. As if he cared what she thought.