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“Gerald believed he got sick on the chowder,” I say. “Does that mean he wasn’t behind it?”

“If not him, then what was it? I’ve never heard of a vampire reverting into a human.”

“I wonder if he can eat cucumbers,” I murmur, mostly to myself. “Or donuts.”

Noah brushes his hand over my shoulder. “Dinner must have been a horrifying experience for you.”

“It wasn’t pleasant.”

“If you could revert back to a human, would you? Would you give up your unnaturally long life—your immunity?”

“Only if you could revert with me. What about you?”

He nods. “Same.”

I walk over to one of the flower clusters, cupping its cotton ball shape in my hand. It’s pink, made up of dozens of sepals that act as petals.

When it gets cold, the bush will go dormant. Next spring, it will sprout leaves and bloom again. Eventually, the plant will die, replaced with a new plant.

“I wonder how many new bushes I’ll get to see before a tree falls on my house and crushes me in my sleep?” I muse out loud.

Noah snorts. “How about we just take one day at a time and see where that gets us?”

I let the flower drop, turning toward him. “I like that idea.”

He pulls me close, kissing me again. “I have another idea if you’re interested.”

“Does it involve our delightfully soft bed?”

Noah smiles against my lips. “It does.”

“Then I’m interested. Shall we head to our room?”

Wasting no time, Noah takes my hand and leads me down the garden path.

“I’m in heels,” I remind him, laughing. “Slow down.”

But neither of us slows down, and by the time we’ve reached our room, I’m laughing so hard I’m out of breath.

Noah unlocks the door, catching me around my waist. We fall against it once we’re inside, hands wandering, mouths meeting, breath mingling.

He finds the zipper of my dress, and I wriggle out of it, still in my chemise and corset.

Noah drags his eyes over the corset. “I’m enjoying this married thing.”

I grasp hold of his tuxedo jacket and pull it down his arms, teasing my lips over his. “We’re about to enjoy it more.”

He groans, lifting me up, pressing my back against the door and holding me in place with his body. With his free hand, he removes his bow tie.

When he starts on the buttons on his shirt, I swat his hand away. “Let me.”

Noah closes his eyes, tipping his head back as I work, setting me down only long enough to remove the offensive fabric. Then I’m in his arms again, and his mouth is hot and hungry against mine.

When he kisses my jaw, I hold my breath, preparing myself for his fangs. He moves lower, down my throat.

When he scrapes his fangs over my skin, I freeze, terrified.

“We don’t have to,” he says, kissing instead of biting.