I made an effort to use the crowd to put distance between myself and Eric as I followed him through the streets of Rome. I was perhaps ten feet away from him, and yet my blood was pounding in my veins so fiercely I feared he would hear it and look back at me. I had never been so close to the decurio, in all those months that I followed him—nor to the two men whom I had learned were his most constant companions. They walked at his side, joking with him and each other.

"That pleb over there looks as though he's had one too many drinks."

"You're one to talk."

"His wife would probably be happy if we arrested him before he passed out."

Despite Eric's answering laughter, I soon found my attention wandering from their remarks, to when I had risen for the night, earlier this evening. I had cleaned myself and my tunic of dirt and blood as best as I was able in a small stream in the woods that had been my resting place. Then I had followed the tracks of Eric's company from the countryside surrounding the Capital—which I recognized a little, but not enough to trust an estimated century-and-a-half-old memory to guide me—to the borders of the city itself. There, the streets were worn by so many passings of feet and wheels that there was no way to identify particular impressions in the rock, and so I had begun to listen for Eric's voice as my eyes sought my beautiful prey.

I had found him as he was accepting a drink from a young woman with dark, curly hair. (Her wine stand, I could not help noticing, was positioned in front of a statue of a laughing satyr—an appropriate juxtaposition for servants of the god of drunkenness.) The only addition to Eric's armor from when I had last seen him the night before was that his belt now also carried a small pouch that jingled with coins.

"I think I'm going to visit the baths." Eric's statement, so abruptly serious after their lighthearted exchanges, lifted me from my reverie with a swooping sensation felt deep in my core. Did he know he was being followed?

The eyebrows of the dark-haired man—as with most humans, I never bothered to learn the names of Eric's companions—drew together. "Are they even open this late?"

Eric smirked, quirking his own pale brows in response and passing the cheap, clay goblet he had been drinking from to the dark man, who drained it almost immediately. "One way to find out. You coming?"

"I was going to visit a brothel. I'm surprised you weren't thinking of the same."

"I was hoping to find someone with a bit more... class to spend the night will. Someone who actually cares whether my loins are dirty or not," Eric smirked.

The dark-haired man shrugged, turning to their companion with a long-faced expression that I gathered was supposed to inspire pity. "Are you going to leave me to face all of those lustful women alone?"

The fair-haired soldier whose name I had neglected to learn laughed. "Certainly not. Have fun with yourself, Eric."

Eric and his companions parted at another intersection, and I followed the decurio down the left-hand alley. Our way was sparsely lit by torches; I enjoyed the way their light played off the gold of his hair.

Soon we came to one of the few buildings housing public baths that were actually of impressive size. What little roof I could see was supported by great, curving domes and arches, and pillars whose capitals were carved with the ornate, Corinthian likenesses of plants.

I increased the distance between myself and the decurio as we approached that magnificent structure, my stomach fluttering at the thought of being noticed by him in this place. Under Master's tyranny, several men had seen my nude form and taken advantage of it. But, now that I had the opportunity to be willingly clad in only my skin in the presence of someone I cared about, I could not help pondering the consequences of such a situation. I had been branded as a child, scarred repeatedly with ink against my will, and I did not know if Eric, given the penchant for pretty things I had noticed he possessed while following him all these months, would find my body attractive.

And, more importantly, would he be willing to look past the dangerousness of what I was, look past what I had done, in order to know who I was?

Eric approached a slave standing under an arch that was obviously the building's main entrance, a lion's lazy confidence in every long stride. How I wished I could walk like that! "Are the baths still open?"

The white-haired man nodded. "All night—just this week, though, for the festival and all." He waved Eric through without asking for a coin—both of us, as a soldier and a slave, would be able to use the baths for free—and the decurio swept along into the shadows cast by the pillars.

Even as I passed the doorman and followed Eric's progress through the rooms with my feet and the corner of my eye, the majority of my darting attentions were taken up by the splendor around me.

The greater part of the floor of first room we came to was taken up by a large pool that, given its proximity to the entrance and the lack of steam hovering over the water, would probably have been used for recreational swimming. Each large floor tile around the pool's border was decorated with a pattern of clams and spined fish, and bordered by straight black lines.

I turned and followed Eric down a long portico lined with Corinthian pillars inlaid with yellow marble. (I wished the moonlight were bright enough for him to observe their beauty. But, after noting that he walked through this place with barely a glance at his surroundings, I deduced that Eric had been here many times before, and had grown desensitized to the building's grandeur.) The portico lined two spacious rooms, both floors covered with sand, and deducing by the scuffle of footprints those were probably used for wrestling or some other sport.

We turned down another hallway, this one lined with doors. He walked nearly to the end before entering a door on the right. I could only make myself wait around half a minute before following him.

"—ahead and get those buckles on the other side," said the decurio as I pushed open the door. A short man with red hair—a color I had not seen in a long time outside of my nourishment and soldiers' garments—was helping Eric undress. The decurio's cloak had already been tucked up into a little niche in the wall for tucking clothes in that was just above my eye level; it ran the length of the room, along with a pair of white marble benches—

Eric looked up as I shut the door behind me, and my blood pulsed. I lowered my eyes before his could meet them, fearing some uncontrollable reaction on my part more than recognition on his, and perched on the edge of the bench across the room from him.

A mosaic depicting Neptune, holding his trident and riding a large horse that possessed a fish's tail, covered the floor in the form of asymmetrical pieces of blue and green glass. I followed its patterns with my eyes as my fingers slowly undid the ties on the sandals I had stolen from a man I had drained the night before—and as my ears strove to ignore the whisper of cloth being freed from skin...

"That will be all." I heard the decurio's familiar footsteps cross the room—I shivered when the air was disturbed by his passing before me—and out the door at the other end of the chamber.

There was the sound of cloth rustling, even after he was gone, and I was not certain whether it was imagined.

I knew, however, that it felt as though an age had passed before I found the courage to look up—and saw that the red-haired slave was nearly to the door that opened onto the hallway, Eric's money-pouch clutched in his hand.

Fire shot through my veins; my fangs itched to drop. How dare this man steal from a soldier, from Eric!

Thinking quickly, I tackled the man to the floor in a blur of quiet speed. I scented blood on impact, and nearly smiled when I looked down and saw that his forehead, hands and knees had been cut open by the floor: these injuries, coupled with the man's dazed expression, would save me from the questions hypnotizing him might burden me with.

I pried his fingers from the pouch and stood, jerking the man to his feet by the back of his tunic. I propelled him forward by a tight grip on his shoulder—I noted with a grimace that we were nearly of a height—and through the door that Eric had recently employed.

I noticed three things very quickly: one, that the room was large; two, that its pool was circular; and three, that a completely naked Eric was standing by the edge of that pool, turned halfway toward us. Even devoid of his armor, he was a broad man, and as I had guessed upon my first sight of him all those months ago, his skin was almost completely supported by muscle. These appeared slightly twisted in the side of his torso that was facing us, from just above the buttock to beneath his arm, relaxing in response to the stretching that his muscles were surely doing on his other side.

His shoulders, his chest, his thighs—everything was perfectly formed.

He, standing there beside the pool, would make an excellent Neptune.

I could not imagine how the gods might have created a being more beautiful than Eric.

And then I was again renewed in the decision that he should be my child, for even as I had just burst through the door with a bleeding man in my grasp, Eric's response was only to lift an eyebrow.

Warmth for him flowed through me, and it was a moment before I could speak. "I—" I softly cleared a throat gone abruptly coarse "—I beg your pardon." I held Eric's bag out to him, shoving the slave to the floor with the hand that had held him captive. "This man was attempting to steal your coin."

Eric's jaw tightened as he walked toward us—that my gaze remained on his face took all of my will—and he jerked the slave to his feet just as roughly as I had. "Who is your master?"

The slave had become nearly as pale as I was as Eric towered over him. His answer was whispered: "Decimus Drusus."

"Tell him he will have a senator's word and a soldier's blade to fear if anyone who works for him is caught stealing again." Eric shoved the man toward the door; the slave slipped on the floor but quickly regained his balance on the way out.

My attentions returned to Eric once more, and my stomach jolted as I saw that he was appraising me, his eyes slowly ascending my body as though they could peel away my tunic to reveal the flesh beneath. "Thank you," he began slowly, and my blood thumped, "is not something I say very often, but in this case I will say so gladly." He took the pouch from me, his movements gradual, and I was certain it was no accident when his fingers brushed my palm and left a trail of gentle flame in their wake.

I trembled—never, never had I been touched so kindly in all my life!—and trembled again when the corners of his eyes crinkled at my reaction to his touch. Slowly he reached up and trailed the backs of his fingers down my cheek; I felt a warm stirring beneath my tunic even as I struggled to keep my eyes open.

"What is your name?" His breath was light on my face, and I named Eric's scent for the first time: leather, and horses, and wine, and musk.

"Godric." My response was barely above a whisper.

"Will you swim with me, Godric?"

"Yes." My blood was pulsing so hard at the sound of my name on his lips that it was several seconds before I realized that my answer more nearly resembled a whimper of ecstasy. "Yes," I said again, and when I was able to open my eyes fully his back was to me; I watched the muscles ripple through it, all the way to the base of his firm buttocks, as he slipped into the water with the faintest of splashes. The little bag was now set next to a bar of soap and a woolen towel.

I approached the edge of the pool, walking over tiles patterned with nesting squares in varying shades of blue, and hesitated. Now that the moment had come, despite the pleasure that still ran rampant through my veins at his touch, I found I could not yet reveal myself to him so completely.

Without warning, he dove forward into the water, submerging himself completely, and surfaced a moment later, spitting water from his mouth in a long arc like a fountain, laughing as he shook the drops from his face. When he saw me, the barest hint of a smirk played with a corner of his mouth, but his eyes were kind. "Change your mind?"

"Somewhat." I lowered myself carefully to the basin's edge, sinking my feet and calves into the water; the surface lapped just below my knees. My hands, fingers interlocked, came to rest in my lap. "I'm surprised you didn't attack that man: from the expression on your face when you came up to him, I thought you were about to."

He was certainly smirking now. "I decided the energy I might have spent on him could be employed for someone else."

The blood rose to just beneath my surface at the implication in his words, and for awhile all was quiet between us.

I took the opportunity to complete the observations of my surroundings that I had begun earlier. The walls were high, with wide windows near the top, capped by a large dome. A hundred stories were frescoed onto those walls: Neptune creating the first horses, Jove taking the youth Ganymede as his lover, Pluto convincing Proserpina to eat three pomegranate seeds and thereby live with him in the underworld... Rays of moonlight stepped down from the windows and through the air to dance with those stories on the water.

"Who is your master? Assuming by your clothing, of course, that you are a slave."

I could smell the tallow and wood ashes in the soap that Eric was using to work up a lather across his chest, and silently I thanked him, because without such a distraction the sensation of compression in my own chest that had occurred at his inquiry would have been much harder to bear. "He was killed many years ago. I am glad of this fact, though even the thought of my tongue and lips forming his name brings a bad taste into my mouth. I have never spoken his name aloud, and I... I find that I cannot speak it now, even to you." My voice had fallen to a whisper by the time I had finished. I dropped my gaze to my hands, twisting around one-another in my lap, my blood in flames at the thought that Master's memory was ruining my first moments with Eric—as I almost knew it would.

The brand on the back of my right shoulder itched and burned.

There was the sound of water lapping quietly against skin. I watched the surface bob and dip around his lower belly as he came towards me, and again I was reminded of the god of the sea.

When he placed the soap into my palms, the contact of our skin was like a balm.

"I..." His throat bobbed when he swallowed, his eyes darting; for a moment I fancied they were searching for an apology, as though Eric could grab one out of thin air. "Would you like to lather me up?"

I smiled: the offer, coming from him, was apology enough for me. "May I see your back?"

His grin, unfortunately, disappeared from my view as he turned around. But the broad, thick muscles of his back were in its place, covered by a wide swathe of skin that was entirely free of blemishes, and so complaint was the last thing on my mind.

I had never seen such a beautiful back.

"See anything you like?" The pride he held in his athletic condition was obvious in his voice as looked back over his own shoulder at me.

My tongue traced my lips as I followed shoulder blades and spine, down and down, to the water's surface. "Yes."

That grin again. "Good."

I rubbed the soap between my hands, covering them with lather, and began to rub my palms across the skin of his back. I cannot describe the sensation accurately, for it was comprised of countless elements: beneath the tingling of my palms, the epidermis was soft and rough, smooth and resistant, defined... It was wonderful to touch a back that had never been ridged with burn marks or pricked with an inked needle until it bled. I sat there, stroking his spine over and over and over again, blinking and smiling like a fool.

The lift of a pale brow pulled me from the soothing rhythm. "I know I have an impressive back, but you seem particularly fascinated."

I felt my smile falter as my chest tightened. "I—I promise I will show you another time, but... not tonight. Please."

His brow had furrowed. "Your master...?"

I nodded, for the moment unable to speak.

Gradually, the grin returned as he turned to face me. "Continue?"

It was a different experience to run my hands along his brawny arms, to rework the lather on his chest, to cover the hardness of his belly with the slick material... My work was swept away by my imagination. My breathing sped up to match the hot, stiff pulse between my thighs. When they opened, the skin of them sang with joy when Eric stepped between them, pressing his chest against my palms with greater force. The tip of his nose dragged along my neck as he began to press the lightest of kisses along its length. My hips twitched, yearning to rock against him. My head fell back as a soft breath fell from my mouth, and I forgot myself, and my fangs dropped.

I felt him flinch at the click—it was natural for him not to expect a sound I had grown so used to—but when he drew back I did not expect his eyes to widen, almost as though in recognition. I did not expect his hands to curl into fists at his sides, as though they might rise and strike me.

"You're like that woman in the road." His words, nonsensical to me, brimmed with venom, and the look in his eyes was worse than when he had discovered he had nearly been robbed. One fist moved toward my face—

And I caught his wrists even as my heart shriveled and he struggled against my grip. His eyes were wide, his mouth twisted, and I thought of the horses in his camp and shivered. "Eric, please—I would never hurt you. I don't know who that woman you're talking about is. I have no friends who are as I am—no acquaintances at all, to love you or harm you, among any kind. I was given these implements that frighten you, was made what I am now, against my will. I was human once. I would never hurt you."

Eric stared back at me, his gaze unreadable. "Then let me go so I can think!"

My fingers sprang open, and he stepped back from me. I retracted my fangs, tucking them away up against the roof of my mouth, so that his reaction to their presence might not be renewed. He paced in the water, his movements impeded by its resistance, but still I could not deny their power.

"She was drinking a man's blood. She had killed an old man and was drinking his blood. Who does that to the elderly?" He threw the question at me without looking at me, and it was a moment before I realized he expected an answer.

"We must drink the blood of humans to survive. Some find the elderly... easy prey." I winced, inexplicably wishing I did not have the life I had accepted as my lot, but at least he saw my expression and knew I did not approve of this unknown woman's choice of prey. I had always respected the elderly for their knowledge, and in the few conscious moments I had during the bestial hunt, I strove to avoid drinking them to death.

I neglected to add that I also did not approve of the woman's choice to feed in a place where she could have been seen by humans—that, I sensed, Eric would not forgive.

After a long moment, Eric sighed heavily and turned to face me. "I cannot say that I cannot trust you, because you stopped a man who could have taken my finances and possibly my life from me, unlikely as that second action might be. I recognize that sometimes you may be forced to take the life of an older person in order to ensure your own survival; I have done it myself. I also recognize that, if those teeth and your strength are any indication, you might be a powerful ally. Therefore, I will strike an agreement with you: if you swear never to harm my family or acquaintances, I will be a companion to you, and you to me."

"I swear." My voice was clear and level, and I held his eye as I said the words. I had learned from watching him that Eric was an honest man, and I would not break my word to him either.

He held out his hand to me, and I shook it, my palm tingling against his.

"Are there any advantages to... what you are?" He splashed water up against his chest and belly, allowing it to trickle down his skin and take the soap with it, although his eyes never left me for long. "I have never heard stories of your kind."

"Yes." I continued to watch him as I spoke. "We grow faster and stronger as we age—much faster and stronger than any human. We heal very quickly. We have an excellent sense of smell. We can hypnotize humans, make them forget we were ever around them—but I would never do that to you or your family," I added hastily at his look. "I have had some... bad experiences with that myself, when I was just a child." His eyes softened, and I allowed myself a moment of looking into them before finishing, "And we can see very well at night..." I realized I was staring at the place where his belly met the water, and jerked my gaze away hastily.

I heard him chuckle quietly. "I wish I could see so well at night—that would certainly come in handy for me." The seduction of his tone brought my gaze back to eyes that were once again kind. "And the strength and speed wouldn't hurt either." His brow furrowed. "You may not want to talk about this, and I can understand if you don't, but... do you have any weaknesses?"

I searched his eyes and all of my past experiences at once, and when I had deemed my course of action to hold less risk than it otherwise could have, I said, "If you will promise me never to reveal these things to anyone, unless I allow you to with words from my own mouth, I will tell you."

"I promise." He held my gaze, as I had his, and I was warm.

"Garlic is an irritant, but it is not life-threatening. Silver is extremely painful, and can be used to kill us in certain ways. Decapitation or a piece of pointed wood through the heart will bring immediate death, and the sun or fire will bring a slow one." My voice grew coarse as I finished, not only because I missed the sun's light and warmth, but also because of the realization that I would never experience that light and warmth with Eric.

He was quiet for a moment, but when he spoke, my pain was weakened and reflected back at me. "How long has it been since you've seen the sun?"

"One hundred and forty-three years." There was no need to ponder it: I knew the number exactly. "I was fifteen when my human life ended."

I watched him do the figures in his mind. "You were alive before Julius Caesar was assassinated?"

I nodded. "A slave trader told my master on the night I was sold that I had been captured in Gaul, though that name and Caesar's raids of that place mean little to me. I do not remember much of what happened the night before I became a slave."

"How old were you, when you were sold?"

"I was seven."

He swallowed, blinking three times in rapid succession, and my heart ached for him. He saw slavery every day of his life—his family probably owned slaves, if someone he knew was indeed a senator—and this silent admission that he felt pity for me meant more to me than I could tell him.

"I was much younger than that when we moved here to the Capital from a place just south of Germania," Eric offered. "My father was a decurio, as I am now, and he won us citizenship."

"I knew you were a decurio!" I began to babble like a little boy in my excitement, scarcely noticing Eric's raised eyebrows. "I came upon your camp one night while I was hunting a few months ago, and saw you in your armor. You were attacked by fools. You cannot know what I felt when I saw you fight—in all my years, I've never seen anyone fight like you! I've always been amazed at our country's army, and so I began following you—" I broke off, realizing what I had said, and focused on Eric's face, fearing he would be angry with me.

But there were only those raised eyebrows, now accompanied by a low whistle. "I knew someone was following me tonight, but I wouldn't have thought someone could follow me for three months without my knowledge. We could use you in the company."

I smiled, my gaze lowering. "That has been my greatest wish, ever since I was a child, but now it can never be fulfilled."

His fingers touched my arm, and I looked up to gentle eyes. "I wish that too." Then he looked down at his hand on my arm, his brow furrowing. "Why is your skin so cold?"

"Did you notice it when we first touched, when I returned your valuables to you?"

He nodded.

"Our skin is cold because, in the process of changing from a human to what we our now, our hearts stop beating. The blood that flows through me does not warm me, as yours does."

"So, because your heart doesn't beat, are you... dead?"

"For all intents and purposes, yes."

His eyes held mine. "I'm not wrong for wanting to couple with you despite that." The certainty in his voice was beautiful.

"No." I smiled, taking his large hands in mine. "You're human."

"This doesn't mean you get to treat me like a child, just because you're older than me." He was grinning now.

I laughed. "I will try to respect your physical age over me."

We were again quiet for a moment. My eyes found the picture of Neptune's creation of horses once again. "You know, when I first saw you in this room, standing beside the water, I thought you resembled Neptune."

Beside me, his shoulders straightened. "I'm not surprised. Everyone thinks I'm a god."

I laughed again. "You certainly have a god's arrogance!"

"Of course I do." He moved out into the middle of the pool, diving and resurfacing again and again to get the last of the soap off.

I had just begun counting the square impressions on the inner surface of the dome above us—a child's curiosity is varied, and never satisfied—when I felt two large hands wrap around my ankles. I cried out just before I was pulled under the water.

I opened my eyes beneath the surface. Eric was laughing at me, great bubbles floating upward from his mouth. Then, apparently realizing he had run out of air, he kicked towards the surface. I noted that the floor tiles here at the bottom of the pool matched those above before following him.

Instinct caused me to draw in a lungful of air as I broke the surface. Panting, I wiped the water from my face—a difficult thing to do with wet hands.

Eric nodded at my soaked tunic, still chuckling. "Surely you won't be cold?"

I shook my head, smiling again. "Just wet." I clambered out to sit on the edge of the basin again.

I watched Eric lean back to float on the water. Every inch of him was slick. I trembled.

His eyes were closed; his lips were curved slightly upward. "I will respect your unfortunate sense of modesty, you know, if you want to wring out your clothes."

My lips flickering in and out of a smile, I stood quickly, pulling my tunic over my head and wringing it out over the edge of the water. I focused on twisting the fabric between my hands, all too aware of the fact that we were both naked now. My blood throbbed with need. I donned my damp tunic, and stood for a moment with my back to Eric, my hands curled into fists at my sides as I stared, hard, up at a dimple in the plaster high on the wall. It seemed an eternity before my desire cooled and I could sit on the edge of the pool again.

"You adhere to a soldier's discipline." Eric came to stand beside me once more, resting his hand on my wrist. "How long has it been since you've had sex?"

I traced the rises and dips of his knuckles with my eyes; I could not meet his gaze. "I was taken advantage of many times, when I was a slave, but I have never lain with a man of my own free will. Even with you, still in many aspects a stranger... the idea is... frightening."

"Have you had a woman?"

"I do not feel desire for them."

Gentle fingers lifted my chin, and my gaze was lifted to a smiling face. "I'll be here on leave for at least a few weeks—certainly plenty of time to get to know me." His voice dropped, seductive. "I certainly want to get to know you."

My tongue crossed my lips.

The backs of Eric's fingers were again brushing my cheek; my eyes closed. "I will be gentle with you. I swear it." His breath was warm on my face. "There is no bedmate better than me. I can teach you to love sex, as Venus originally intended. You will beg me to never stop."

"My body has pleaded with you since the night I first saw you." I opened my eyes. "Please, give me a few nights to... prepare myself. We could meet in that time; talk more. I have not been in the Capital since the night my master died, and I have never really been able to enjoy our festivals. I would very much like to explore them with you."

He grinned. "I have plans for the next few nights, then. I was afraid I'd be bored."

I picked up one of his hands, tracing the wrinkled fingertips. "Should you get out of the water?"

"Probably." He did so. "Your skin doesn't wrinkle after a while in the water?"

I shook my head "—Not anymore—" and stood with him, and watched the water drip from his skin...

He smirked, his gaze piercing me to my core. "Did you want to dry me off?"

I swallowed, and wondered how it would feel to touch the place of his pleasure with only a thin layer of cloth between us.

Master's memory whispered: Whore.

I shook my head quickly. "I'll lay out your armor for you." I hurried back into the cloakroom—thankfully empty now—and ensured that every piece of Eric's armor was present, laying them out along one of the benches.

I heard Eric come in behind me a minute later, but I resisted looking at him until he was covered by his tunic.

He clapped me on the shoulder; I flinched; his thumb rubbed an apology.

"Your master is dead," he said quietly. "You can make your own choices now. And I would like you to choose to help me put on my armor."

I swallowed, but once I received no internal protest I was quick to nod. I had only previously explored the workings of a soldier's gear on dead men; helping a living soldier dress was a dream I never thought I would see realized.

The process, when it began, was almost as wonderful as feeling the decurio's unblemished back. I slipped the sandals onto his callused feet, cupping his heels and tracing the contours of the soles, holding them in my hands far more briefly than I wished too, lest I overbalance him. Once those had been done up, I tied his purse and sword to his belt, holding the latter in my hands and admiring its weight and beauty. I placed the cuirass around his torso and fastened the buckles, following Eric's explanations of their arrangement and order without comment. I swept the soft cloak around his shoulders, clasping the brooches that held it on the cuirass, rearranging the folds so that they lay just right.

Something in my expression as I was working must have amused him, for when I looked up into his eyes once I had finished, he was smiling. "Can you smell my family on my clothing, like a dog?"

I laughed. "Yes, but I would rather not be compared to a dog, thank you." I pressed a fold of his cloak to my nose, exaggerating the inhalation slightly so that he could hear it, and committed the scents that stood out to memory: flowers, clothing dyes, and slightly soured milk were among them.

I followed a god out of the cloakroom, up the hallway and the portico lining the sporting rooms, and out the front entrance to the bath house. If my tunic was still wet, the doorman gave no notice of it, and I did not register it either. All I saw was Eric's back, as I had seen it so many times in the past few months, but now I saw it knowing its owner was most certainly of my presence.

I stopped after we had put a few streets between us and the baths, and Eric turned to me, brow lifted.

My hands twisted at my waist. "You should probably get some sleep. Humans aren't meant to be awake all night."

"I've had to be before." But then he yawned, his mouth opening wider than I had once estimated from a distance. I stared at his pink tongue, his white teeth. "But I think you're right. It would be more difficult to seduce you half-asleep."

I laughed. "You would know more than I. Where would you like to meet tomorrow evening?"

"I gather you saw the wine vendor in front of the satyr statue while you were following me tonight?"

I nodded. "That will be a good place." I hesitated for a moment. I had seen humans wish each other good night in varying ways over the centuries; I was unsure what he would like, what he would expect. "How should I wish you good night?"

The decurio leaned forward then, slowly, and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. His fingers twitched at his sides, as though yearning to touch me again. My blood sang. "Just like that. Good night, Godric." He turned, and I watched him until he rounded a corner, and I could see him no more.