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I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the seat. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Will you let him die for embarrassment’s sake?”

I opened my eyes. “That question would have a lot more merit if you weren’t the one kneeling by my knees.”

He put his head to one side, and a curious look came over his face. He looked as if he’d say something, then shook his head as if he’d decided better of it, and I was almost certain that what came out of his mouth wasn’t what he’d thought of first. “Are you able to feed the ardeur without intercourse, or donating blood?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Then allow me to offer myself as a tiding over snack until you reach the club and your pomme de sang.”

“Define snack,” I said.

Damian screamed through my head, and I got a confused glimpse through his eyes of a blond woman bending over him. It was Elinore, one of the new vampires. She was speaking, but he couldn’t hear her anymore, only watch her lipsticked mouth move, noiseless.

I grabbed the front of Requiem’s shirt. “Out of time. Damian needs . . . needs to be warm.”

“Then let me share my warmth with you,” Requiem whispered it as his face bent toward mine. As happened so often, tonight I didn’t have to explain, or give detailed instructions. He just grasped what was needed, and acted.

His lips touched mine, and the kiss was gentle, and no liberites were taken, his tongue stayed nicely in his own mouth. Of course, that did nothing to raise the ardeur.

He drew back and searched my face with his gaze. “You are still cold in every way.”

I nodded, and down that long metaphysical line, Damian called out for help. He was dying, not like a human dies, but like you watch a flame fade from lack of oxygen. It was as if some invisible spark were being blown out inside him. I was his spark now, and I didn’t know how to fix this.

I looked up at the man in front of me. He was handsome enough, but without the ardeur’s heat, he was still a stranger, and I didn’t lust after strangers. I had to be seduced not by the color of someone’s eyes, or the flawlessness of their face, but by a smile that had become dear to me, a conversation so familiar that it had become like music to me. Familiarity never bred contempt with me, it made me feel safe, and until I felt safe, I did not lust after people, at least not in the front of my head, and it was the front of my head that I needed. I’d finally found the lock for my subconscious, which meant I had to bring the ardeur out on purpose, not just get out of its way, or stop fighting it, but truly had to coax it to life. Again, I hadn’t thought what it would mean to control the power to this degree. I seemed to spend my life not understanding the mess I was making until it was too late.

I grabbed Requiem’s arms, dug my fingers into his flesh. “Damian is dying, and I don’t know how to save him.”

“Simply raise the ardeur and feed.”

“I don’t know how to do it, without the ardeur pushing on me. Shit.”

“Do you mean you do not know how to raise lust for me?”

“Nothing personal, but I don’t know you.”

“There is no shame in not being a creature of casual lusts,” he said.

“Damian is dying,” I whispered it, because I could feel it. I could feel him beginning to pull away from me. He was trying not to drag me to the grave with him, so he was shielding as best he could.

“I can raise lust in you, Anita, it is not the ardeur, but it is one of my gifts.”

If we’d had time I would have asked him what the difference was, but we were out of time. “Do it, help me feed. Don’t let me kill Damian, not like this.”

“Drop your shields, or I am helpless to bespell you.” He cupped the side of my face in his warm hand.

Damian felt like a cold wind in my head. I dropped my shields, and two things happened at once. Requiem’s power crashed into me. It was as if that power had been pushing at me all night, and I simply hadn’t felt it. He couldn’t have gotten past my shields, he was right, but without them . . . without them, I was suddenly wet, soaking through what panties I had. It left