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She whimpers that it is—it always will be—and then grabs the sheets as another wave hits.

The sight of her trembling beneath me is enough to shove me over the edge too. My whole body tenses and I spill inside her with a low groan, holding myself there until we’re both spent. Until our breathing slows down again.

And still we stay tangled together—my chest pressed against her back—even after we’ve stopped moving.

Lena sighs softly into the dark room as we collapse sideways onto each other.

“Are you assured now?” she asks breathlessly after a long silence.

“Mmmm.” I kiss the side of her neck. “Absolutely.”

We lay there for a while without speaking, listening to each other breathe and feeling our heartbeats settle back to normal again.

Eventually Lena lets out a sleepy laugh. “Are we ever going to have sex where you don’t tell me I’m yours?”

“Just making sure you know it.”

“Trust me.” She shifts so that we’re face-to-face now instead of spooning; there’s mischief in those dark eyes even though they’re heavy-lidded with exhaustion again already from what we just did together.

And what we’ll soon do again.

I watchas Lena moves around the kitchen with practiced ease, having made herself at home in the weeks since our confrontation with the Ivanovs. The wounds that had marked her body have healed completely, leaving no physical trace of Dmitri’s torture, though I sometimes catch shadows in her eyes when she thinks I’m not looking.

My own scars are invisible too—the psychological weight of learning my true heritage, of killing so many, of accepting the vampire nature that now flows in harmony with my human side.

It’s peace, of a sort I’ve never known before.

“Coffee?” Lena asks, holding up the percolator. The domesticity of the moment catches me unawares, warming something deep in my chest.

“Please,” I reply, watching as she pours the dark liquid into a mug, adding just the right amount of sugar. She knows how I take it now, just as I know she prefers her blood mixed with red wine in the evenings, and straight from the vein—mine, specifically—when we’re alone.

She slides the cup across the marble countertop, then returns to the real estate section of the Los Angeles Times spread before her. “What about this one? A three bedroom in Silver Lake, view of the reservoir.”

I lean over her shoulder, scanning the listing. The house looks promising—secluded enough for privacy but not so remote as to draw attention. “Could work,” I agree, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “Seems a bit large for just the two of us, though.”

She glances up, dark eyes glimmering. “Planning ahead. We’ll need space for your office, my music room. Maybe more, eventually.”

The implication hangs in the air between us—a future together, stretching beyond this temporary sanctuary at Abe’s colony. I find myself smiling, the expression still feeling somewhat foreign on my face after years of careful restraint.

“Silver Lake it is, then,” I concede, claiming the stool beside her. “When do you want to see it?”

“I’ll call the agent this afternoon,” she says, circling the listing with a red pencil. “Assuming we’re still free?”

I nod, sipping my coffee. The PI business has been slow since I returned from the “dead”—my official story being that I’d been injured during a case and needed time to recuperate. Coleman had accepted the explanation with skeptical grace, more concerned with the continued investigation into Marco’s disappearance than my extended absence. I think he knows it’s a dead-end.

“Any word from Adonis and Valtu?” I ask, changing the subject.

Lena shakes her head, a smile playing at her lips. “Not since that postcard from Santorini. Abe thinks Valtu is showing Adonis all his old haunts, introducing him to European vampire society.”

“Hard to imagine those two on vacation,” I muse, thinking of Valtu’s intensity and Adonis’s stoic silence.

“Everyone needs a change of scenery sometimes,” Lena says, her hand finding mine on the countertop. “Even really old vampires.”

“And Ezra? Still in San Francisco?”

“According to his last call, yes. Reconnecting with old friends in the colony there.” She turns a page in the newspaper. “Abe says he might stay through the summer.”

The quiet rhythm of this new life still amazes me—the casual discussions of vampire friends traveling across continents, the easy acceptance of my place in this hidden world. Three months ago, I was a PI investigating the gruesome murder of Elizabeth Short. Now I’m shopping for real estate with a vampire lover, discussing the vacation plans of immortal beings as if commenting on the weather.