Everyone, I love the reviews you've been sending in, and it kicks my muse into gear. All ye fellow fanfic writers know that feedback often makes a big difference in motivation, and you guys have been doing your part, so I'm happy to turn over this chapter. Intimate stranger, don't worry about last chapter. You've showed such consistent support, I do appreciate it.

Before we kick Chapter 13 off, I want to address some confusion over my one-shot Understanding. I've gotten requests to update it, but it's marked as 'complete.' It was never meant to be a long-term journey, just a little POV on how Mick might reach a turning point about where his future is headed romantically, and what led him to that point. Sorry for any misunderstandings, folks.

LA

They were both drinking a fresh beverage, blood from a 22-year-old freshie, still technically virginal, although Coraline would be willing to bet that this technicality was stretched pretty thin if the donor in question was a freshie. Probably her physical innocence kept as more a commodity than anything else. For her own part, Coraline didn't have any freshies on hand, but the century old company that supplied home delivered meals had an army of them, on hand for those who didn't want the headache of housing their vending machines or suffer through bagged blood. Although Coraline preferred to hunt her own meals, sometimes because of scheduling or to avoid drawing too much attention, she got her meals the modern method often.

Showing none of the needless hang-ups he'd displayed in the past, Mick had drained one glass and was on his second. But those smoky eyes were trained on her, waiting. It was the last thing she wanted to talk about, (except for maybe every dirty detail of her endless list of sins during their marriage) was her brother. Still, Mick had been right. Lance wasn't a threat she could handle while protecting Mick. And if he'd brought the crew of merry bastards…

Yesterday, she'd been at the lab where she was doing the bulk of her research, checking up on the compound, trying to regenerate the extinct flora. She'd once contemplated finding a permanent cure, but discarded the idea a long time ago. It went against the basic principle of the cure, which was a quick fix, a means of survival, and exaggerating the cure might overwhelm the cell structure altogether, canceling the intended affect out. For another thing, this could be a weapon to wipe out vampirism, another trick in a hunter's bag. The vampiric community would never accept it, would execute her in a fashion that would make Nazi's cringe.

But having a temporary cure becoming extinct was just as dangerous. Vampires needed, for various reasons, from time to time, to disguise their true nature, to further shroud their true selves in the shadows of secrecy. And it gave the vamps like Mick a light at the end of the tunnel, kept them from suicide or various other forms of desperation. Not to mention, if she could find a way to market this baby, she could get her grandsire's approval. Veronica, Lance…they were all his puppets, and if Coraline could find a way to make him wealthy beyond even his wildest dreams, he'd switch alliances, as he was famous for doing. She'd finally have power over Lance. She could finally kill him, and subdue her five other brothers, who would be primed for the molding.

Originally, she'd been planning to shift the home base of her research once she settled in England, but Mick's silver dose had changed all that. She'd stayed in LA longer than she should have.

Lance wasn't going to make this easy. During her visit to the lab, she'd found her lead scientist, Jonathon, decapitated on the ground. Lance's scent was all over the body; his sadistic glee a stench Coraline would know anywhere. All her research was ruined, and she was practically at square one. If it weren't for Cynthia and her stamina for the cause, Coraline might have been at the end of her rope.

Ah, Cynthia. Coraline sighed, a familiar twinge of sadness going through her, only barely managing to repress it. Sympathy was not an emotion easily roused in Coraline, but in this case, she'd make an exception. It was never easy being in love with a person, to ache for a person in every sense, and know they'd never feel that way about you in a million years. Okay, saying it wasn't easy was like saying crucifixion wasn't fun, but the point was that Coraline hated her friend's pain, but she wasn't willing to fix it. Her feelings for her old confidant were strictly platonic, whereas she knew Cynthia was in love with her.

Pushing aside her pointless mental journey, she refocused on Mick; grateful vampires couldn't get physically ill from anxiety. "Lance is my half-brother."

"Okay, that's a twist I didn't see coming," Mick admitted. "So much for blood being thicker than water."

"There's a lot of water under the burned bridge, then," Coraline said dryly. "Lance and I didn't grow up together; he's almost two hundred years older than me."

Mick gave her the most incredulous look. "How does that work?"

"There's a temporary reprieve from vampirism, an organic compound. It 'masks' the vampire within, and for a time, you take on the characteristics of humanity. The vampire that fathered both Lance and myself, not to mention the other five, was able to procreate when he took some of the compound."

"What's it made out of, the compound?" Mick seemed interested, but not really invested, the way he would have been if his memory was in working order.

"It's developed from the blood and bone marrow of members of a powerful bloodline, my so-called family. I'm talking French royalty, the illegitimate branch, of course, but still. It was blended with local plants, which have unfortunately gone extinct due to human expansion. I've been trying to bring it back the scientific way, but so far, all I've done is use more of what's left."

"Well, that would explain the age gap between you two." Leaning forward, Mick took one of her hands, bringing it to his lips so he could kiss her knuckles. The sweetness of the gesture pierced through her, and she felt a sudden desperation to savor every second they had, but it was too late for that. "So, why are you so worried about Lance? You'd think he'd be on the same page as far as cloning this long-lost plant."

"He thinks I'm endangering the line, and besides, he thinks the vampire race has outgrown the original need for the cure. He's in favor of asserting our kind as the dominant race over the humans. It's fanatical, and I doubt it'll catch on," she added thoughtfully. "Most vampires like the world the way it is, don't want to disturb the balance. Still, Lance wants to shut me down…now."

"Will he leave you alone if you stop?" Mick's grip tightened on the hand he was still holding.

Coraline snorted. "Not likely. I've stepped out of bounds, and the bastard gets off on a power trip like nobody else. He's out for blood, and he's trying to impress our grandsire, Dominic." She felt a shiver as she thought of one of the oldest vampires on record, who walked the earth when Greece had been a major world power. How odd that someone with no French in his blood would infiltrate the flower of French royalty, would be one of its founders.

"You're afraid of him," Mick observed quietly.

"I'd be stupid not to be. Lance has direct access to our grandsire's blood, that's access to unbelievable power. If I can bring back the key ingredient to the compound, and find a way to make Dominic benefit, then I'll replace Lance as the favorite, and I'll have access to his blood. Until then, my big brother's holding all the cards."

"Not all of them," Mick assured her. "It's not over until he catches you, and obviously, that hasn't happened."

Covering the hand that was wrapped in hers, Coraline leaned forward, determined to make him understand. "You don't have to be involved in this, you know. If I leave town today, Lance won't bother with you. If you stick with me, you're going to get caught in the crossfire."

"You're not going anywhere without me," Mick declared heatedly, pulling her onto his lap. Her heart squeezed as she settled herself in. Doom seemed to be a tangible force in the air, an abrasion against her skin.

Forcing her expression to remain impassive, Coraline knew she couldn't be weak. "This isn't the time to get emotional, okay? Lance will kill you if you get in his way, and you will. If he catches me alone, he probably will want to take me back alive. When I get away, I'll come back to you." Of course, by then, Mick's memory probably would be back, and all this would be a moot point anyway.

"As reassuring as all that is, forget it. Two heads are better than one, and if we can't beat him in a fair fight, we play dirty."

My, she was starting to rub off on him. Pity she didn't have the time to admire her handiwork. "I like the way you think, but that's the only way Lance knows how to play."

"So we beat him at his own game," Mick maintained stubbornly. And he did have a point, Lance wasn't invincible. There was too much in-house fighting for Coraline not to be able to find an ally among her brothers. Still, she couldn't take the chance with Mick.

"You don't need me anymore," she informed him, trying to adopt her aloof, icy persona that had served her so well in the past. For once, she failed at her own trick. "I've showed you the ropes, you'll do fine. Who knows? Maybe you'll want to exert yourself and take on some clients again." When all this had happened, he referred whatever cases he'd had to other capable hands, leaving him free to recover in peace.

"I do need you, baby," he whispered, freeing his hand to tangle both of them in her hair, bringing her lips a whisper away from his. "I'm not doing this without you, Coraline. You walk out that door…" he planted a brain drugging kiss on her, pulled away too soon…"and I'll just follow you."

Abruptly disentangling herself, Coraline found her feet. She hadn't wanted to do this, but it was the only way to keep Mick safe, so she'd bite the bullet. "You wouldn't feel that way if you knew the truth. Before you lost your memory, you despised me."

"I don't believe you." Angry, Mick got to his feet. "I felt a bond between us right away; I was drawn to you like-"

"That's called lust, sweetheart," she retorted bluntly. Her heart was breaking, but this wasn't time to indulge in her sorrow. Mick was going to remember on his own eventually, but there wasn't time for that. If breaking his loyalty now was the only way to protect him, so be it. At least she had new memories to treasure.

"It had nothing to do with lust," Mick argued, reaching out to her, but she evaded him. If he touched her now, her willpower would crumble. It wasn't too well developed in the first place. "Okay, maybe there was some lust mixed in, but that wasn't what it was about. We're part of each other and even with my memory gone-"

"I'm you're sire, so of course we're a part of each other. I joined us almost 56 years ago, against your will." She waited to see how Mick would react, waited to see the familiar accusation and resentment wash over him and be aimed at her.

"Against my will," he echoed, shocked but still calm. Yeah, well, give him time, she told herself.

Then the beginning all came out, everything. She told him about their wind whirl romance, his sweet proposal, and the wedding night that ended in disaster. "I hadn't told you about my nature, not willing to lose you. I thought if I could just make you happy as your wife, that you'd understand it didn't matter." She felt detached from herself, and that was good. She needed some distance.

"How could I not figure it out?" Mick demanded incredulously. They'd long since sat down, facing each other.

"I'm a mistress at my craft, Mick. Fooling mortals is child's play after enough years. Vampires need blood to climax, but you passed off my biting you as foreplay. I was going to tell you after we made love on our wedding night. I thought you'd be less likely to run for the hills if we'd consummated the marriage. But I made a mess of everything."

"How so?" Through all of this, Mick's expression had been unreadable, and it unnerved her.

"I hadn't been feeding enough in the recent weeks prior to our wedding. Like a lot of people in the throes of new love; nourishment was the last thing on my mind. When we were lying in the honeymoon suite, I lost control. Carnal lust and bloodlust got mixed together, and I bit you…with my fangs. I told myself I'd just take a little…but you tasted so good. By the time that I got my control together, I'd taken too much. There was blood everywhre…"

"So you turned me," he finished, arms crossed over his chest.

"I suppose I could have gotten you to the hospital, but I had planned on turning you in any event. Admittedly, the original plan was to fill you in on some rather pertinent details first, but I assumed you'd adjust. I thought I was giving you the greatest gift I could, but instead, I cursed you. I was wrong, so very wrong. You never forgave me, and in time, hated me." She was finished, and she felt spent. She sagged against the couch, her eyes drifting shut.

Now all she could do was wait. Of course, Mick would be cured of his gallant idiot condition, and show her the door. She promised herself she could live with it, would live with it. "Coraline, look me," she heard him urge her, and reluctantly obeyed, bracing herself.

New York

Beth didn't know if she could fake her way through the rest of the party. She didn't know if she could face Josef. What was she supposed to say? 'Hi, Josef. Gee, Sara's dead. Yep, that's right. So, you might as well just pull the plug. Oh, is there anymore champagne around?' Was there really any good way to rip someone's heart out?

"There you are." Josef's voice was behind her, warm and smooth. She bit back a groan. She was hoping to avoid him for at least a couple of hours.

"Hey." She hoped she came off casual enough. She got to her feet, turning slowly to face him. Josef looked boyish and endearing to her right this second, and she wondered if she was perceiving him differently because of the rush of sympathy flooding her system. "So, Mr. Moneybags, did you make good?"

"Always." He smirked at her, and she thought maybe she smiled back, but felt like she was in a daze. How do I tell you, Josef? Could you handle it after all these years of holding on? "All right, Lois Lane, you want to spill it already or are we gonna play 20 questions? Something's wrong, an idiot could tell."

"Mr. Kostan, is this a display of actual concern?" Beth baited, internally freezing. Suddenly, she knew she couldn't tell him at all. She had to see if Sara had been reincarnated. If she was, at least she could offer him some shred of consolation. "Are you going soft?"

"Okay, now I'm just insulted." The amused gleam in his eyes suggested he was anything but. He inhaled deeply, rolling his eyes. "Oh, her. Vanessa Eastwood's the big bad contact you just had to see?"

"I thought it was worth a shot. She really didn't have much to offer up." The minute the lie was out of her mouth, Beth wondered if she was stepping on to thin ice. Lie detectors were based on heart rate, weren't they? Vampires didn't need the equipment; their ears were all the technology they needed!

Riding on near desperation to protect Josef as long as she could, Beth launched herself at him, attacking his mouth like a wild woman. She heard him grunt, maybe in surprise, maybe from lust, and lock his arms around her to steady her. Then he was ravaging her mouth right back, and she forgot about her original motivation, her hormones kicking into high gear.

She didn't care that they were in the gardens of a very public party. Sure, they were alone, but anyone could walk out. It didn't even bother her that she wasn't even friends with this man, and that he had a whole harem to screw at home, that she'd be easily discarded after he was done with her. All she was focused on was the hunger taking her body by storm, how talented that mouth was, and how much she wanted to rip his clothes off.

Her hands fisted in his jacket, yanking him closer, biting down on his lips savagely. He growled and thrusted his rock hard cock where she was almost embarrassingly wet and aching. It felt like she'd been celibate for decades, even though it had been less than a year. Of course, she'd never gotten worked up so fast either.

He yanked his mouth away, growling softly under his breath. "Are you messing with my head?" he demanded roughly. How he expected a coherent answer when he was stroking her breast through her dress, she had no idea.

"You talk too much," she panted, one hand gripping the back of his head so she could yank him into forward, her lips feeling bereft. He seemed to hesitate for a second, then obliged, catching her mouth in an almost bruising kiss. He continued to stroke her breast, their hips grinding against each other. It was rawer, more animalistic than their previous make-out session, and Beth didn't know if her knees could support her much longer. She sucked and pulled on his tongue, shaking from carnal cravings and acute frustration.

When his mouth pulled away again, she called out, not caring about the numerous supernaturally keen ears inside. His teeth tugged on the lobe of her ear, an action that went straight to the throbbing between her legs. Okay, and the way he was massaging her breasts was a major factor too. She clung to him for balance's sake. "If you're gonna put on the breaks, Beth, now would-"

"No," she moaned. "No!" Who the hell needed logic and common sense? She was on a physical overload here! She'd have plenty of times to play it smart, after a few hours in the sack. "Let's…oh!-get out of…here," she barely managed to suggest.

"Won't work," he gritted out, licking her neck, nipping with blunt teeth a few seconds later, sending little arrows pain of coated pleasure along her flesh. "Just take you in the car."

"So?" she demanded. She'd probably be embarrassed by this later, but was too far gone to care presently. She wondered if she'd just come, standing upright, with a new dress on, just from the two of them rocking together, hard and fast.

"Expensive upholstery," he explained. At least, that's what she thought he said, but he wasn't exactly articulating clearly.

"So?!" Let his damn ears ring. She was about ready to go crazy, and he cared about his stupid upholstery! Like he couldn't get it replaced, like he was on a tight budget. To make her point, she shifted her stance, reached down and grabbed him through his pants. His cocked strained hard against his layers of clothing.

"Upstairs," he snarled, dragging her towards the entrance.

They were halfway up the stairs before Beth had the presence of mind, or willpower to offer up any protests. "It's not our house." Not that he'd be listening much with her voice so husky.

He wasted precious seconds by stopping and giving her an incredulous look. It wasn't so effective when his eyes were glazed over, several shades paler than normal. "Beth, they have furnished rooms up here for a reason," he informed her. Then he was dragging her along up the rest of the stairs. He slipped a guard a hundred dollar bill, receiving a tiny gold key for his trouble.

Anything for an extra buck, Beth thought dimly, unfazed. Then Josef was scooping her up, unlocking a cherry wood door in two seconds flat. In a wink, they were inside and she had a feeling, they wouldn't be anymore thinking for a while.