"Hey, you," Pam said as Kris walked into the reception room, where she was sitting on the couch reading a magazine. Watching her niece curiously as she walked to the bay window, she asked, "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes," she replied curtly.

"Ohhhkay," Pam slurred as she flipped a page. "You should go ahead and eat then get ready for Vilgot's visit."

Kris ignored her. "Pam, I'm such a bitch."

"We can be at times."

"Where's Eric?"

"Still in his room. But I—" Kris raced out of the room. "Wouldn't go up there if I were you."

Finding the only bedroom with a closed door, she was about to knock when she heard his voice. He sounded pissed but she couldn't understand what he was saying through the thick, wooden door. She waited a moment for him to get off the phone. When it was silent she lightly tapped the door. When she heard nothing, she turned to walk away.

"Impatient, I see," Eric said from the doorway. Kris turned around and gawked at how gorgeous he looked as he leaned against the door frame in a tight, dark blue tank and black jeans and wearing a sly grin. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, uh, I, um … Pam wanted … Her toilet is stopped up."

He laughed. "What a terrible lie. I don't know why she insisted on putting in all the toilets anyway."

"Yeah, well, that's Pam for ya." She turned to go back to her bedroom to jump out of the window from embarrassment when he said, "Come in, please."

Before she could answer she found herself alone in the hall. Taking slow, tentative steps she stood nervously in the doorway. "Eric, I—"

"I will not have a conversation with you in the hallway," he said as he stood in front of the fire.

She took two steps inside. "Eric, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't," he replied, not looking at her. "But I did."

She waited for him to reiterate, but he didn't. "It's just … When you … I wanted you to kiss me." He still didn't say anything. "That's why I got pissed." At that moment she was beginning to get angry that he continued to ignore her. "I don't know why … You were right. There's too much going on." He simply looked at her. "Well, I've said what I wanted to say."

Something made her freeze in the spot. She couldn't move. She couldn't talk. She could barely look him in the face with the way he was looking at her. His eyes softened, his lips parted, and he smiled faintly. Slowly and seductively he went to her, looking down on her with such passion in his eyes. "How do you feel about kissing me now?" he asked, putting his long, right arm around the small of her back.

She didn't move but her fangs sprung out. "I can't," she mumbled shyly.

He bent down and whispered in her ear, "Would you run away again if I kissed you now?" She shook her head, swallowing hard at his low, melodic voice, a bit of the Swedish accent coming through. He pressed his lips in the crook of her neck and gave her a lingering kiss.

At the same time he slipped his hand up her back until his fingers gently kneaded the nape of her neck as if he were massaging the neck of a cat. "Do you like it when I touch you there?" She closed her eyes briefly then nodded, failing to keep the purring back.

He put his left hand on her waist, twisted his body so they were out of the way of the door and kicked it closed with his foot. Pushing her gently against the wall, he moved his right hand to her waist and his left hand on her neck, pressing his body against hers. Looking into her eyes so deeply she knew he'd reach into her soul, his fangs emerged. "Would you stop me if I threw you on the bed and made love to you for the next three hours?"

Her knees felt like they were going to buckle under her. Breaking their eye contact, she looked at his lips before she tilted on her toes and pressed her lips to his, softly at first until heat built up between them. Their heads moved in sync as their lips melded together, Eric's tongue in search of hers.

Tentatively she slid her hands up his strong arms to his neck, wrapped one around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair with the other. Pressing her breasts against his chest, he grunted in disapproval and swiftly removed her shirt, exposing her bare chest. He grinned as he looked her over, running the back of his hand between her breasts, teasing her with his fingernail before he put his huge, flat palmon her collarbone. Her purring grew louder at his touch.

Pulling back, he grinned sheepishly. "You, my dear, are the most breathtakingly beautiful creature I have ever laid my eyes on."

She would have blushed if she could. She smiled bashfully. "Thank you," she mumbled breathlessly.

Suddenly he looked over his face in disbelief. "Kris, your heart is pounding … and you're breathing. It's shallow, but ..." She frowned then opened her eyes in confusion. "Don't you feel it?" he asked.

"No, Eric. My mind was elsewhere with that kiss." Then her face contorted when she felt a thumb against chest. "Oh. Oh!" She put her hand over her heart and sure enough, it was beating hard. "It's faster than it was before." Then she breathed on her hand and warm air washed over it.

Eric growled from the back of his throat, whirled her around and threw her on the bed lying beside her, their bodies in a close embrace. He began to slowly and meticulously kiss her from her lips to her breasts, lightly sucking her erect nipple before he continued to her stomach to the inside of her thigh, where he traced the end of his fang against her femoral artery.

She gasped loudly and tilted her head back, making him growl again. "No, no, Eric, stop" she moaned, forcing herself up on her elbows. "Pam is calling me."

"I don't hear her." He gently pierced her skin, though not deeply.

Trying to ignore the urgency of the summoning, she moaned, "Hmmph, that feels incred …" But she couldn't. She grabbed her stomach and winced, "Ow! Shit! She's not … stopping," she stated, running her fingers through his hair. "I'm … I'm sorry.

"Not as sorry as Pam is going to be," he grumbled, stood and took her hands, pulling her up gently.

Again Kris groaned in pain. "Think maybe we can continue this later?" she asked. Groaning once more, she screamed and bent over, "Damn it, Pam! I'm coming!"

Eric laughed. "That I can guarantee you."

"Kris, hurry it up!" Pam fussed at her impatiently as she stood at Kris's bedroom door. "Your hair is fine, your make-up is perfect, and your outfit, phhft, well, it'll have to do."

"Why am I so nervous, Pam?" she asked as she walked to her aunt.

"If it makes you feel better I'm a little … uneasy myself."

"Nope, it sure doesn't," she huffed.

Pam chuckled. "Just let Eric do most of the talking. If Vilgot asks you any questions, you can of course answer them. But Eric has a special gift for things of this nature." Giving her a quick hug, she then pulled back. "Your heart is still beating fast." Kris didn't reply; she couldn't think of anything to say anyway. Pulling her hair back from her Kris's shoulder, she said, "Yes, dear. I also feel when you are … turned on. Before I forget, I do apologize for ruining your little … make out session with Eric."

Kris shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "No big deal. But I think Eric wanted to stake you."

"Ah, when does he not want to stake me?"

The women laughed as they walked downstairs to the more formal reception room, where Kris suddenly stopped in the doorway. The room was much more colorful, with burgundies and cream-colored accents and furniture that looked so old it would buckle if someone even looked at it. "I … I can't do this," she whispered to Pam.

"You can, honey. We will be right there beside you," Pam said soothingly.

"You'd better."

Walking into the room slowly, she saw Eric standing by the end of the couch, a man and woman sitting in the recliners, who appeared to be in their early 60s. The man stood up and approached Kris while the woman remained seated. He was a short, chunky man about 5'8" with dark brown hair that was almost black, pulled back in a ponytail; his cheeks were rosy red and his eyes the color of emeralds. He was wearing a blue and green striped kilt with yellow, thin lines and a white, button-down shirt. She wondered if it was true about Scots that they don't wear anything under their kilts. The woman smiled oddly.

"Good evening, Ms. Beaufort," he greeted with his arm outstretched; his accent was thick with Scottish but with a hint of Swedish. "It is a pleasure to meet you." Nervously she shook his hand but remained silent. "My, you are indeed as lovely as Malte described you." Again she didn't reply.

"Ms. Swynford de Beaufort," he said, turning to Pam. "It is an honor to meet the Maker of one of us." Pam didn't reply either, nor did she shake his hand. Kris wondered why. Turning to the woman, he said, "This is Alexis, my wife."

She had an exotic look about her, very sophisticated and refined. Her hair was almost platinum blonde, very long and curly with the face of an angel. "Well, thank you. Hello, Ms. Beaufort." Her accent was a hundred percent Scottish, and Kris had a little trouble understanding her.

Kris frowned in confusion. "Hi," she said shyly. "Call me Kris, please."

"Kris, Pam, sit," Eric ordered, though his voice wasn't stern or harsh. He flayed his arm out toward the chair.

Kris sat in the middle while Pam sat on one end. Charles then walked into the room with a tray of wine glasses, a clear glass carafe of blood and set it on the coffee table. "Thank you, Charles," Eric said dismissively. He bowed and walked out. "This is one of my favorite vintages," Eric said as he poured two glasses and handed them to Vilgot and Alexis. "It is almost three hundred years old from a family in Lithuania."

Kris wondered why he was bragging, as it seemed to her, since he never had before. Kris took the glass Eric offered her, and Pam took hers. She already had blood before she got in the shower, but with the smell the hunger came back with a vengeance. Sitting down beside her, Kris could tell how tense he was, though she couldn't blame him.

"I'm sure you have many questions for me, Kris," Vilgot began, looking directly at her. Then his face changed suddenly. "You have mated," he said matter of fact.