******************************************

      The crowd in the Raven parted for her, stepping into two
aisles.  Uh oh, this was not normal.  Everyone wore a costume...and
they didn't look like theatre reproductions.  She froze, looking for
LaCroix.  This had to be his doing.  Where was he?  He entered from
the back room, dressed in the flowing purple and white robes of a
senatorial Toga.  A scarlet sash ran across his chest like a crimson
medal of glory.  Nat, breathe, stop drooling, close your mouth and
say something intelligent.

      "LaCroix, a halloween party in August?  You should have
warned me, I have a nice Doctor outfit, complete with
formald..."

      She trailed off as the rest of the company fell to one knee,
leaving her and LaCroix the only two still standing.   Eyes wide, she
watched his steady advance.  He stopped at a distance, and held his
hands out for her, palms up.  "Welcome, Doctor Lambert."  He stared
into her eyes, willing her to take his hands, and join him.

      Choices, choices....  She scanned the crowd of bowed heads,
looking for a hint of what was to come.  Nothing, they were all
focused on the ground at their feet.  Oh boy.  You're going alone on
this one, Doc.  Swallowing, she took his hand, her cold fingers
immediately enveloped in his warm grasp.

      "LaCroix, I'm honored, mind telling me the occasion?"

      He leaned down, whispering in her ear.  "I'm afraid the
public setting was required.  Your oaths of loyalty and obediance
will be reported back to the council.  Smile, my dear."

      Right.  She turned her face into his, and smiled, speaking
under her breath.  "You win this round, Lucius, but that's only
because I can't say no to a man dressed in a bed sheet."

      His rich laughter thundered across the room, and he swept her
beside him.  As if waiting for that signal, the parted crowd rose as
one, coming to their feet with pride.  The soldiers in the group, no
matter their century of origin, snapped to attention, while the women
watched in eager silence.

      Fear shot through her.  "LaCroix?"

      "Kneel, Natalie."  His stoic features gave nothing away.
Eyes calm, he waited for her to make the decision, either accept this
dominance or face the consequences alone.

      She knelt, swallowing her pride like a bitter pill and gave
in.  She still held onto his right hand, the band of his silver ring
pressing against the tops of her fingers.

      Mere centimeters in front of her, the soft folds of his toga
swayed against his bare knees.  She focused on the laces of his
leather sandals, rather than attempt to look at his face.

      "Do you come here of your free will?"  His voice gained
timbre as he played to the audience.

      "Yes."  Of course, the alternative was incineration by solar
flare.  Not that it mattered.

      "Good.  Natalie, by drinking from me, you affirm your oath of
fealty and obediance to me as your master and brother.  Will you
drink?"

      From him?   The silence became oppressive as everyone awaited
her response.  Damn you,  LaCroix.  "Yes, I'll drink."

      "By drinking from you, I accept you as my fledgling and swear
to protect and support you for eternity.  Do you accept this
friendship?"

      She'd gone this far, what was one more?  "I do."  Acting on
some instinct, she pressed her lips to his ring, cementing the vow.

      "Meum es.  Rise, Natalie, and join me."

      You are mine.  For once, she wished she never took the latin
in med. school.  There were some things she just didn't want to
know.   But after vowing to obey him, what was she going to do?
Fling it back in his face?

      She rose slowly, bracing herself on his chest;  his very hard
chest.  She paused,  metal?  The smooth wool of his toga slid easily
under her fingers, slipping over whatever was hidden beneath that
fabric.  What was he wearing?  Armor?   A mental image of LaCroix in
a breastplate fresh from a triumphant return to Rome filled her mind,
the details so sharp and clear, she could reach out a touch it.  All
right, that was one mental image she didn't need.  Eep.

      "I can smell your desire, Natalie.  Perhaps we should
continue in private."

      Her eyes traveled back down the length of his battle hardened
body to his feet.  There was no denying she liked what she
saw...but,  "No.  We can't."

      "It will be expected before the night is over, however, take
this time if you must."   He brought her head to his neck, molding
her body to his.   She inhaled the fresh scent of almonds, and honey,
while trying without success to ignore the bulge pressed against her
stomach.

      She nuzzled the firm line of his neck, the muscles apparent
even without flexing.  Rubbing her face against that warm skin, she
almost purred in his embrace.   She didn't even notice him moving her
hair to the side.

      LaCroix struck first,  plunging his fangs into the junction
of her neck and shoulder.   With everyone staring at her, working up
the courage to bite him was impossible.  In accute embarrassment, she
realized her fangs hadn't even dropped.  She closed her eyes, and
rested her forehead against his solid shoulder.  "Help,  LaCroix."

      He seemed to expect this  and lifted his hand to his neck,
dragging his fingernail across the skin in a sharp motion.  Blood
welled to the surface, centimeters from her mouth.  She sealed her
lips against the cut and drank.

      LaCroix broke away and his face split into a triumphant
grin.   "I present Natalie Flavius!"

      Cheers errupted through the room.  Miklos swung Alma into his
arms, swirling her into a bawdy dance.

      Natalie licked his wound and stared up at him, ignoring the
revelry.  "Flavius?"

      "It is a name shared by Emperors, and revered by scholars.
My family led Rome at it's height,  there is no shame to bear it."

      "Jeanette DuCharme,  Nicholas DeBrabant, and you choose me to
share your name.  Why?"

      "Nicholas refused my name centuries ago.  As for you, if you
are unable to figure out why a man wants a beautiful woman to share
his name,  I overestimated your intelligence."

      "You felt the need to mark your territory?  Well, at least
you didn't pee on me."  Thank god for small favors.  She noticed one
conspicious absense among the community.  "Does Nick know you brought
me across?"

      "He knew as soon as we finished last night.  As for marking my
territory, that has already been done.  My name has nothing to do
with that.  It is a gift, you may choose to reject it if you like,
but the offer will never be made again."

      His mask was back in place, the stoic general, pretending
that he didn't care one way or the other.  Natalie didn't fall for
it.  For some reason, he cared enough to want to share his
name.  "Let me think about it."

      "Of course."  He captured her lips, knowing already that she
would accept it, and him.  "Brace yourself, my dear, we're about to
be escorted to our chambers."

      "Huh?"

      Whistles and shouts of encouragement came from all sides, as
they were literally pushed together and lifted onto the shoulders of
the men.  She tried to fight her way down, but LaCroix stopped her
panicked struggles with a thought.   He sheltered her as much as
possible from the ribald procession, and when they were thrown
unceremoniously onto his bed, he cradled her flaming face to his
neck.

      "Everybody out!"
 
 

End chapter 4