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“That’s very forward-thinking of you.”

“Just because I was born ages ago doesn’t mean I can’t see the writing on the wall.” It just usually took longer for me to notice it and even longer toacton it.

“This coming from the man who needed me to ask for a television?” she asked archly, a smirk lighting her face.

“Well, I used to find other ways to occupy my time without it,” I replied huskily.

She arched a brow. “Oh, I’m sure you had no troubleoccupyingyour time.”

I pulled her closer. “You’re the only way I want to occupy my time now.”

A flash of emotion flickered across her face. “For how long?”

“For as long as you’ll let me.”

She sighed, pushing back slightly. “But you’re geared to want me.”

I shook my head. “You don’t know much about vampire mates, do you?”

She shrugged. “Before you, I would have never thought I needed to.”

I pinched a soft red lock of her hair, luxuriating again in its texture. I took another heavy inhale of her cherry blossom scent, the only thing leashing the madness that played at the edge of my consciousness. How much to tell her? Now that she was free, I didn’t want her to stay for some misbegotten belief that I couldn’t survive without her, even if that was the truth.

I needed to tell her just enough, but not so much she would run again. “Fate does not push us toward random pairings. It pushes us toward the only person we could make a true life with. It does not make me desperate to have you like I would kill to have any part of you. That’s all you.”

Her eyes darted away. She often did that, trying to hide her feelings from me and conceal the thoughts hiding in her lilac eyes. She had so many secrets.

“We recognize vampire mates when we first scent their blood.” Recalling the first time I’d scented Phoebe’s without the clouding scents of Tír nAill, had me hardening beneath the sheet. “The Elders call itcântecul sângelui loror the song of their blood. I think my mother worried her bloodthirsty creations would kill their predestined mates without a neon sign pointing them out.”

She brought her eyes back to mine, curiosity brightening them even more. I could so easily get lost in their depths. “Tell me about your Elders. I find it strange that a man of your history has to answer to anyone.” She smirked as she added that last bit.

“Oh? And what do you know of my history?” I asked, arching a brow.

Phoebe sighed, realizing her slip. “I may or may not have found a book in the library with all your feats listed.” So she had researched me, had she? “I’ve meant to ask, how old are you exactly?”

This time, I shifted uncomfortably. I didn’t want the ages I’d lived to become yetanotherstumbling block between us, but I didn’t want to lie.

“I’ll be somewhere around ten-thousand in the summer.” I paused, bracing for her reaction.

“Really?” She moved off my chest, resting on her elbows on the bed. “How cool! The oldest immortal I’ve ever met was only five-hundred.” She pulled the sheet tighter around her, using her fists to prop her face up. “You’re like a walking history book!”

My mouth gaped, and she giggled. “You’re pleased? I did not expect you to delight in our marked age difference.”

“I’ve always loved history, and with immortals, time’s all relative.” She shrugged, waving away the ten millennia difference between us.

Every time I thought I had a grasp on how she would respond to something, she surprised me. “I’ll tell you all about it another time. I believe you asked about the Elders?”

She nodded with a pout. “For now.”

I propped my back against the ancient headboard. How many times had I lain there and dreaded the coming years? With Phoebe beside me, I was excited at the chance to experience them with her. I hoped to lie exactly like this for the next millennia.

“Eldersis a bit of an oxymoron. All but one are younger than me, but I hand-picked them all as advisors, should I need them. They’ve brought me great council over the years.”

“All but one?” she queried, her eyes bright. Icouldonly hope to live up to what she saw in me.

“My father’s brother, Ambrogio. He was the second turned after my father.” I concealed all emotion in the statement. There was no affection between my uncle and me. The man was cold and unfeeling. A block of marble had more emotion.

She must have heard something in my lack of inflection and cuddled up to me, draping a leg over mine. Before I could distract her with more interesting activities, a loud bang came on the door.