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"Natasha!"

       Natalie gasped in recognition.  It couldn't be,  she'd
 expected Richard, maybe even an avenging angel, but never this.  This
 gift was too precious.  "Mom?"  The arms clinging around her felt
 real,  the scent matching the lavender scented shampoo her mom always
 used; before the crash.

       "Oh god, Mom!"  She flung her arms around the woman she hadn't
 seen since childhood.

       "Shhh, now let me get a look at my little girl."  Anne
 Lambert, stood back to look her up and down.  "You're beautiful." Joy
 reflected on her face. "You kept your curly hair.  I had hoped you
 would, so like your Dad's."  The wistfullness in her tone set Natalie
 aback.

       The courtyard around them teemed with people.  She scanned
 the faces for signs of her father.  "Speaking of which, where is he?
 I need to see him too before I have to go."  She didn't know how long
 she had here, but it couldn't be long until LaCroix called her back.

       "He didn't make it Nat,  I don't know where he went, but it's
 not here, I've looked everywhere.  You're all I have.  Thank god you
 came."

       "Mom?  What do you mean, he didn't make it?  He died,  I saw
 him dead at the church.  He must be here."  Natalie couldn't keep the
 panic from her voice.  "What about Rich, he's here too!  He has to
 be…"  Please let him be here, she pleaded in her mind, she couldn't
 handle him being damned,  not because of her.

       "He never came.  I thought once I saw him, but I was
 mistaken." Flinging her arms around Natalie, her mother gave into
 tears.  "I am so glad you're here Nat.  Heaven can be a lonely
 place.  Sometimes I question if this isn't hell."

       Natalie patted her back in a half hearted attempt to assuage
 her mother's pain, and her own guilt.  Richard would be here if it
 wasn't for her demanding Nick do the unthinkable.  Shame and the hard
 cold lump in her throat kept her silent.

       "Come back to the house with me, Nat.  I'll cook you some
 peach cobbler.  Is it still your favorite?"  Her mother's hopeful
 expression tore Natalie apart.  She didn't want to leave her here,
 not alone.  Life was never meant to be fair.  Her mother deserved
 more than this betrayal.

       "I can't stay, Mom."

       Her mother smiled, "Of course you can, dear.  Where else
 would you go?"  Her cheerful tone, seemed to ask why her silly five
 year old daughter wasn't wearing a coat in the rain.   That memory,
 from so long ago, she'd thought forgotten.  Her mother's face held no
 fear  or concern about Natalie's staying.  To her it was already
 decided.

       Great, she didn't understand, Natalie swore silently.  It was
 up to her to explain to her mother why she chose to be damned.  "I
 have to go back." Her wide eyes begged her mother to understand.

       "Go back?  You can't, no one ever goes back."  Her deep brown
 eyes, kind and full of sympathy, as though telling a patient they had
 cancer.  "I've tried."

       "Natalie, come back to me...."  LaCroix's soft voice drifted
 through her conscious.  She stiffened as she realized her time was
 up.  She took her mothers hand in hers, willing her to forgive this
 one unforgivable act.

       "Mom, I love you."  Her voice broke, but she made herself
 continue.  This needed to be said, and this was the only chance to do
 it.  "I never had the chance to tell you before.  I wish things could
 be different, but I have to go.  LaCroix is calling me."  She pulled
 her mother into one last hug.  "I'm sorry, so very sorry."  Words
 didn't begin to describe the agony of abandoning her here.

       The knowledge dawned on Anne Lambert's face, darkening the
 shadows, making her seem thirty years older in less than a second.
 "No...baby, no.  It's not worth it.  Why?"

       Good question,  Natalie didn't have a ready answer, and she
 knew she should.  Damnation should have a damned good reason,
 especially if chosen.  At last,  she spoke, hoping it was the
 truth. "I'm not ready to die."

       This time his voice growled in her head, the softness
 gone.  "Natalie, you will come back, now!  Drink!"  She felt
 something cold sliding into her mouth, choking her.

       "No!"  Her mother slapped her, the sting rocking her from
 LaCroix grasp.  "You will not leave me, you ungrateful chit."

       Natalie whimpered as her mother's face melted into that of
 Nana's. Overhead, the sunlight disappeared, replaced with a blood red
 sky and sable clouds.

       "Natalie! Listen to me very carefully...Drink, or you will
 die."  The harsh voice whispered along their connection.  She still
 stared at the knightmarish tableau before her.  Thoughts of dying
 forgotten in the horrible moment.  Thunder crackled on the horizon,
 and her grandmother crowed in bone chilling laughter.

       "Drink Doctor..."  The warning note, brought her back to
 herself.  Just like LaCroix, scare the dying woman.  His blood still
 dripped into her mouth, and as she was trying to swallow, he
 continued.  "Doctor,  if you die,  your dear friend Schanke won't see
 the sunrise."  Right, mustn't forget to threaten the dying woman
 too.  She gulped a mouthful of the liquid, forcing it down her dry
 throat.

       The blood flooded into her starved body,  filling the
 collapsed veins and nerves with golden fire.  She felt it spreading
 across the networks of cells in her body, changing them, and moving
 on,  it's progression too late to stop now, even had she wanted to.
 Reaching up, blindly with her hands, she secured the source of her
 salvation.

       LaCroix held her naked body against him, enjoying the
 aftermath of the best sex he'd had in centuries.  When her heart
 slowed it's beating, ready to stop, he hurriedly bit into his wrist,
 bringing it to her mouth.  She was his now, and nothing come heaven
 or hell would stop that.  Not even her own stubborness.  "Drink
 dear,  join me in eternity."  The blood poured from his wrist,
 filling her open mouth, and spilling out the sides.

       When she failed to respond, he shook her.  "Come on, Natalie
 drink!"  He didn't care for the note of fear in his voice, he'd lived
 two thousand years without emotions, now was not the time for their
 sudden appearance!

       He used his other hand to push her head into his wrist,
 sealing it there.  If she didn't drink, then he would force it down
 her.  "Natalie, come back to me."  Begging was so undignified, he
 curled his lips in distaste.  Ordering was so much
 more...expediant.  "Natalie! You will come back, now!  Drink!" He
 roared at his unconcious companion.  Her skin slowly cooled in the
 air, and her heart fluttered weakly in her beautiful chest.  There
 was no time for this.  Grim, he took her hand in his, pressing it,
 hoping somewhere she heard him.  "Natalie, listen to me very
 carefully...drink, or you will die. Drink! Doctor!"

       Still no response,  he frantically combed his mind for any
 motivation to make her drink.  Deepening his voice, he magnified
 every threatening note, "Doctor, if you die, your dear friend Schanke
 won't see sunrise."  He was rewarded with a weak swallow, almost
 imperceptable, but there.

       Oh, Doctor, you are so predictable.  He leaned back in
 relief, letting her draw as much strength from his blood as he could
 spare.  She reminded him of the Nicholas from centuries ago, but
 stronger, smarter, and more practical.  He couldn't help the laugh
 that bubbled up.  She'd make a fine addition to his family indeed,
 and a very fine addition to his bed.  He wasn't prepared for the bite.

       She felt him rumble in quiet laughter.  "Good, Natalie, very
 good."  The hellish plain had disappeared,  and the blurry form of
 LaCroix stared down at her, his expression unreadable.  She closed
 her eyes against the disorientation, eagerly swallowing the blood
 from his gashed wrist.  When it didn't flow fast enough, she
 instinctively bit down.

       LaCroix sucked in his breath, resisting the urge to tear his
 wrist away.  With his free hand, he pulled her hair back until her
 teeth loosened their hold. "Do Not, do that again."  He growled the
 warning out.

       Natalie mewled low in her throat,  the pain from her head
 adding to that in her stomach.   If she could have curled into a
 fetal ball, she would have.

       Frowning at her discomfort, LaCroix stretched out beside
 her.  In all the people he'd brought across, she was the only one who
 had ever dared to bite him like that.  Cupping her face in his palm,
 he soothed the crease in her forehead.  The pain concerned him,  it
 never happened unless something was wrong.  She'd taken forever to
 respond to his call, and now this.   He popped the cork of a bottle
 with his teeth, and spit it across the room.   The only possible
 solution was forcing his blood down her until there was no question
 of her strength.  He did not make weak fledglings.

       He drained two bottles in quick succession, and leaned back
 into the pillows.  An hour later, she still suckled, but with less
 urgency.  When her muscles relaxed against him, he breathed in
 relief,  the worst of it over.

       He stared up at the ceiling,  grateful beyond his own
 expectations that she'd chosen to return.  At one point, she may have
 been Nick's, but now she belonged to him.

       Her breathing evened out into sleep and he carefully lifted
 his wrist from her mouth, willing to put it back if she showed the
 slightest signs of fighting him.  She didn't.  Instead, she rolled
 onto her side and flung an arm across his chest.

       He luxuriated in the comfort of her embrace.  She'd sleep the
 rest of the day,  plenty of time to get some sleep himself.  He
 pulled the velvet covers up over them both, and wrapped his arms
 around her.  The wave of possesiveness, took him back across the
 centuries to a garden in France.

       Fleur smiled in his imagination, her courage and innocence
 mirrored into Natalie.  In appearance, the two women were nothing
 alike, but inside, that was an entirely different matter.  Natalie,
 for all her cynicism, her brashness, still held an innocence,
 untouched by the horrors constantly around her.  She not only stood
 up to him, she did it with humor.

       He knew now, that Nick, for once in his life, had been
 right.  Fleur would never have survived the transformation.  After
 her first kill, she would have walked into the sun, without looking
 back.

       He didn't know if this was a second chance, but for once in
 eight hundred years, he was willing to take the chance.  Fleur smiled
 and faded away.  He found himself looking into the peacefully
 sleeping face of his new fledgling.

       "God help you, Natalie, if you ever betray me."  He
 surrendered to sleep,  unconciously spooning against her.

      He woke first, and slipped from the bed.  She stirred a
 little, seeking the lost warmth, but settled back into sleep.  The
 candles fizzled in their holders, most of them gutted.  He pulled his
 blue terry cloth robe from the closet and belted it around his
 waist.  The hot tub, the first thing in his normal routine would wait
 until Natalie was fed and able to join him.

       He padded into the kitchen and took out four of the bottles.
 A pity, for a first meal, she deserved something living,  a criminal
 perhaps, or a willing victim.   Too bad there had not been time to
 procure one.  He had asked Miklos to pick out a likely candidate this
 Friday, but that was before plans had changed so abruptly.  Cursing
 his son, he set to work.

       Taking out the stew pot, he filled it with water and set it
 to heating on the stove.   While they were warming up, he returned to
 the bedroom and took up a chair next to the bed.    He flipped
 through the book by Bill O'Reilly, scanning the words, while keeping
 an eye on his patient.

       She tossed and turned in her sleep, whimpering nonsense every
 now and again.  It wouldn't be long now, he retrieved the warm
 bottles and popped the cork out.

       "Mom!"  A panicked Natalie, screamed in anguish.  Sitting
 straight up in the bed, her eyes flew to meet his.  Their golden
 glow, matching his.

       It didn't take long for her surroundings to register, even
 through the red haze.  She squelched the fear, straining to control
 her wildly fluctuating emotions.  "LaCroix?"

       "Welcome back, Doctor." He sat next to her and held out the
 open bottle.

       The smell reached her,  the itch in her gums turned into a
 burning ache above her canines.  She pushed experimentally at them
 with her tongue,  two bumps bulged down, covered with a thin layer of
 skin, a steady pressure behind her teeth.  Her new teeth were coming
 in.    They burst through, in a rush of pleasure and pain, their
 sharp points almost piercing her tongue.

       She snarled, more in reaction to the sudden pain in her mouth
 than anything he'd done, and grabbed the bottle.  She brought the
 precious stuff to her mouth and gulped it down.   Her fangs ached,
 sending wave after wave of rapture through her body as the blood ran
 over them.   She regained her control after the second bottle,
 coming to her senses as realization set in.

       "Enough."  She passed the bottle back to him.  She'd really
 done it.  For better or worse, she faced immortality now,  with
 LaCroix as her master.  Still naked under the covers, she smelled the
 evidence of his possession.  She prayed she'd made the right
 decision.  That glimpse of heaven.... She left the thought
 unfinished.  The way it ended didn't seem much like a heaven.

       "Feeling better?"  LaCroix took the empty bottles and set
 them on the nightstand.  She nodded, and leaned into his shoulder,
 the soft terry cloth cushioning her cheek.  Underneath, his skin
 radiated the warmth of a fresh feeding,  and he smelled of cinnamon
 and roses.  She could rest here for hours.

       "Yes, thank you."

       "You are very welcome, my dear.  The pleasure, I assure you,
 was all mine."  He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

       The teasing action, so out of character from his normal,
 serious demeanor,  made her giggle.  She'd never considered the
 morning after, and sitting here, naked, next to the man she'd
 despised for the last six years, confused the hell out of her.   In
 no scenario could she imagine giggling with him.  The infectious
 laugh bubbled up from his robust chest,  spilling out into the room.
 She'd never seen him so unreserved, and it scared her.  She didn't
 want to fall for this man.  He'd made it very clear that her feelings
 would not be returned.  Lifting her head from his shoulder, she
 pulled the covers up.

       "So, now what?"  She watched as the joy melted from his face,
 replaced with the mask of studied indifference.

       "A bath is in order."  He stood and straightened his robe,
 jaw clenched. "I trust you can make your way there without
 assistance." He didn't stalk out exactly, but his movements were
 stiff, head held high as he strode from the room.

       Natalie gaped after him, wondering what she'd done this
 time.  Did she smell that bad?  She took an experimental sniff, the
 vanilla in the candles and the fresh smell of the roses assaulted her
 nostrils, but nothing offensive.

       Only one way to find out, she stood and looked for something
 to wrap around her.  The bedding was a lost cause,  a huge red blood
 stain pooled under the pillow,  no doubt soaking through to the
 mattress.  She touched it, and brought her finger to her nose.  The
 cinnamon gave it away, the blood belonged to LaCroix.  The hunger
 reared it's head,  tightening in her stomach.

       No, Nat!  She stopped herself before she licked at it.
 You're a civilized human being,  you will not lick dried blood from
 your fingers.  In disgust she wiped it on a clean part of the sheet
 and left the room before the temptation became too much.

       She squinted into the brightness of the bathroom, unlike the
 soft candlelight, the glaring electric bulbs sent shooting pains into
 her eyes.   LaCroix rested in the hot tub, the back of his white
 blond head facing her.  The sight in the mirror brought her up
 short,  a stranger stared back at her from glowing eyes,  her face
 smeared liberally with dried blood.  No wonder LaCroix suggested the
 bath.

       She dimmed the light with the rotating dial, and her eyes
 immediately felt better.  She approached the edge of the obsidian
 tub.  When she hesitated, he smiled, a bare showing of teeth.  That
 she could still see it in, what she knew had to be, complete
 blackness pleased her.  No more walking blindly into doors!

       She tested the water with her foot, unprepared for LaCroix's
 attack.  He grabbed her ankle without warning and yanked her flailing
 body into his lap.  The hot water closed over her for a panic filled
 second before she regained the surface.  Sputtering like a wet
 kitten, she wiped the water from her eyes.

       He seemed as surprised as she was,  one hand protect that
 most vital part of him, while the other steadied her chest and neck.

       "What the hell did you do that for?!"   Outraged, she fought
 against him.

       His contrite voice broke into the rest of her
 tirade.  "Forgive me, Doctor, I had not intended to dunk you."  He
 didn't let her go, but his iron grip loosened a little as her
 struggles stopped.

       "Let me guess, you wanted to catch me in your arms, and
 impress me with your charm." Sarcasm dripped from her honeyed tone.
 She felt him stiffen, and she saw a bit of blood rush to his face.
 Unperceptable to a mortal, LaCroix blushed.

       "Quite, Doctor."  The teasing note was gone from his voice,
 and for some bizarre reason she felt the need to apologize.   His
 stoic expression belied the gravity of her error.

       Just perfect, Nat.  She felt like smacking herself in the
 forehead.  He attempts to do something nice, and she rubs it in his
 face.

       She stared down at the water, hoping it would give her the
 words she lacked.  Not surprisingly, it didn't cooperate.  "Look,
 LaCroix, I'm sor...."

       His finger against her lips silenced her midsentence.  "Shh.
 No apology is necessary."  Tilting her head up to face him, he gently
 kissed her.  His hand threaded through her wet hair, holding her in
 place.

       No complaints here, she thought.  That conversation wasn't
 on her list of priorities either, not now, maybe not a century from
 now.  The sensations of him messaging her scalp, while teasing her
 fangs with his tongue became too much to resist.  She growled low in
 her throat and broke away to straddled him.  He smiled up at her in
 amusement, one sardonic eyebrow raised.

       His shaft rubbed at her opening, but she wasn't ready for it
 yet.  Now that she had free reign, she wanted to explore other
 dangerous territory first.  She licked the droplets of water from his
 chest, her tongue darting out in perfect aim, just lightly tickling
 his skin before retreating.  When she came to his nipple, he
 twitched.  He twitched?  A nefarious grin spread over her face as she
 realized what that twitch might mean.  Just to be certain, she did it
 again.  He shifted, his arm coming almost out of the water.

       Yep, the great General Lucius of the Cross had one huge
 weakness. He was ticklish.  She closed her mouth over that sensitive
 area, and sucked slowly on it.   She'd use that knowledge later.  His
 hands came up and held her head firmly in place.

       "Bite..."  The whispered command, intense for all it's
 quietness, sent shivers through her.  Tentative, she sank her fangs
 into his chest, praying that she didn't hurt him.

       Bliss, rapture tore through her as his blood swept over her.
 Swirling in the eddies of pleasure, she undulated against him.  His
 erection slid home,  as he thrust to her core.

       The scream tore from somewhere deep inside, as pleasure sent
 her into nirvana and beyond.  He caught her when she fell.
 Continuing to thrust slowly, he took his time,  expertly bringing her
 to the edge of her pleasure, and stringing it out for as long as
 possible.  His hands supported her when her own legs gave out,
 forcing her deeper onto his rock hard penis.  Inarticulate sounds of
 pleasure escaped from her mouth.

       Neither of them noticed their silent observer, so entranced
 were they in their own pleasure.  Nick stood in the doorway, hands
 clenched into fists at his sides.  The roar of raw pain ripped from
 his chest thundering through the room.  Natalie had one glimpse of
 his perfect golden face contorted into an inhuman mask of rage before
 LaCroix shoved her behind him.

 End Chapter 8