Francis chuckled at her wide-eyed look. "You are not scandalized."
It wasn't a question.
"And you are not disgusted," Russell said with equal certainty.
Mary blinked at the comment. "Of course not. Why would I be disgusted?"
Russell shrugged mildly. "Some people are."
Mary clucked with irritation. "Some people need to keep their minds out of your pants then."
Both men blinked briefly, then burst into laughter that they both quickly quelled when Dante murmured sleepily and turned on his side in bed.
They were silent for a moment, each of them practically holding their breath as they peered at Dante, but when he didn't stir again, they relaxed and glanced at each other.
"I like that," Francis said quietly, and then echoed her words slowly as if savoring them. "Some people need to keep their minds out of your pants then."
"Well, they do," she said quietly. "Love is love and shouldn't upset anyone. So what else are they thinking about when they get upset at your partner preferences?" she asked reasonably, and then answered the question herself. "Their minds are in your pants and on what you do. And while they're welcome to bury their brain in their own pants, they have no business in yours."
Francis glanced to Russell and grinned. "I like her."
"Me too," Russell said with a smile.
Mary blushed and turned to glance at Dante for a minute, but then turned back and asked, "You said Dante hasn't slept for a while?"
"This is the first time he has slept since the accident," Russell said solemnly. "He watched over you throughout your turn. We helped of course, but we did take breaks, and we offered to spot him so that he could rest as well, but he refused to leave your side even for a twenty-minute nap."
Mary turned to peer at Dante again at this news, her eyes traveling slowly over his sweet face in repose. The man must have been exhausted when he'd finally collapsed that first time they had sex, and yet he'd not made a single complaint when she'd woken him up for another go round . . . or for the third one, or the fourth. Mary felt bad about her greediness now. She almost felt like she should apologize to him . . . except she'd have to wake him up to do so.
"There is no need to apologize," Russell assured her solemnly. "He will be fine."
Mary turned slowly back to stare at the fair-haired man as another realization struck her. "You're reading my mind."
"I am afraid so," he acknowledged. "I apologize, but it is hard not to."
"Why? Because you're so used to reading everyone?" she asked, curious.
"Not quite, although that is a factor too," Russell allowed.
It was Francis who explained, "Mary, honey, as a new turn and a new life mate, it is difficult not to hear your thoughts. It would be like trying not to hear what someone was shouting in your ear."
She tilted her head and eyed him uncertainly. "You're suggesting I'm somehow shouting my thoughts at you?"
"Basically," Francis said with a shrug, and then leaned forward to pat her hand. "Do not worry. It is common among new turns as well as new life mates, and you are presently both."
"Right," she breathed, sitting back in her seat as questions immediately began whirling through her head.
"You wish to know more about this life mate business," Francis said with a smile.
Mary shrugged. "Wouldn't you?"
"I did," he admitted with a grin. "I wanted to know absolutely everything when I found out I was Russell's life mate. And I imagine you do too."
"Yes, definitely," Mary admitted sitting forward again and resting her arms on the table as she peered curiously from Francis to Russell. "So you weren't both born immortal?"
"No. Russell was and turned me," Francis said, sharing another smile with the man. Turning back, he added, "I was not even gay when we met."
Mary blinked in surprise at this and he burst out laughing at her expression.
"Sorry, I am just teasing," he said, patting her hand again. "I was 'in the closet,' as they say now, but definitely preferred men to women. It was Russell who had no idea of his sexual preference."
Her gaze shifted to Russell then to see that he was watching Francis with amused affection. She glanced back to Francis and narrowed her eyes. "You're teasing me again, right?"
"Not this time," he said with wry amusement, and then assured her. "He really had no clue. Russell was just wandering through the centuries with a bad haircut and worse fashion sense, waiting for his dream girl to pop up." He smiled and added, "But what popped up was no girl."
"Behave, Francis," Russell said with wry amusement, and then glanced to Mary and said, "I was old enough by the time we met that I had not bothered with relationships, sex or food for a millennia. And then this annoying fellow," he said the words affectionately and smiled at Francis to take away any sting before continuing, "appeared in my life and just would not go away. Worse yet, I could not take control of him and make him leave me alone. And then of course, I found I was suddenly eating again and . . . well, other interests were reawakened and . . ." He shrugged.
"I don't understand," Mary said slowly. "You weren't eating or . . ."
"Apparently," Francis said, taking over again. "When immortals are old and alone for centuries, they become sad old men who lose interest in everything." Taking on a horrified expression, he added, "Including food and sex. Can you imagine?"
Mary's eyes widened and she glanced to Russell for verification.
He nodded solemnly. "It is quite common."
"But Dante was eating and--"
"Oh, he is not old," Francis said dismissively. "He and Tomasso are just baby immortals. Heck, I am two hundred and I am a baby by immortal standards."
"Oh," Mary said slowly. "So Dante was still interested in--"
"Yes, he and Tomasso were both still scarfing down everything and anything, and banging every female from--" He paused abruptly when Russell stuck a foot out to nudge him. Grimacing, he said instead, "He was still active on the dating scene."
"Ah," Mary said with amusement. She wasn't surprised that Dante had been "active on the dating scene." Between his looks and his size, she was sure women would have been throwing themselves at him left, right, and center.
"But don't worry, Mary," Francis said now, patting her hand. "Now that he's found you, he will want only you."
She tilted her head curiously. "Why?"
"Why?" Francis asked blankly. "Because you are his life mate, honey." Frowning, he asked, "Did he not explain about life mates to you?"
"He said something about a life mate being the one person an immortal couldn't read or control and that they could live happily with or something," she said slowly, trying to recall his exact words.
"Oh, dear," Francis muttered and rolled his eyes. "He is a good-looking brute, but not big on talking, that one."
Mary raised her eyebrows in surprise at that claim. It seemed to her that Dante had talked a lot since she'd met him. Or had she done all the talking? She worried suddenly.
"All right, I shall have to fill you in," Francis said determinedly, then scooted his seat closer, took her hand, looked her in the eyes and announced, "Mary, sweetheart, you are like the holy grail to Dante."
She raised her eyebrows, but didn't speak her doubts aloud and he continued.
"Now that he has you, Dante will never ever be the least interested in another woman, mortal or immortal."
"Why?" she asked at once.
Francis's eyes narrowed on her forehead, and then he clucked impatiently. "You know why. You have experienced the shared pleasure with him. That alone is enough to ensure he remains always faithful. Sex with anyone else simply could not compare. It would be like choosing Alpo for dinner over a gourmet meal."
"Aside from that though," he added, "If the nanos put you together, you were meant for each other." When Mary looked dubious, he said, "I know, I know . . . you have not known each other long, but trust me, you will suit each other beautifully. The nanos are never
wrong. Dante is your happy ever after."
Mary merely nodded, unsure how she felt about what Francis said. On the one hand, she'd like to believe in happy ever after, but had learned through her own marriage and the people she'd counseled over the years since getting her doctorate, that happy ever after really didn't exist . . . at least, not without work. Mary had been happy the last two thirds of her marriage, but it had been after years of misery and it had taken a choice and a lot of hard work. Even then it hadn't been perfect. No one was perfect.
Francis patted her hand and said, "You shall see."
Mary was saved from having to answer by the sudden ringing of a phone. Turning toward the sound, she watched Russell take a cell phone out of his pocket. He looked at the caller ID on the face, and then tapped it and pressed it to his ear.
"Lucian," he said cordially, straightening from the window ledge and moving to the door.
Mary grimaced at the name.
"He'll want to know if you are awake yet and that the turn went well," Francis said quietly as Russell slipped out of the room.
Mary nodded and then movement caught her attention, and she glanced to the bed to see that Dante was sitting up. The phone must have woken him, she realized, and smiled as she watched him wipe sleep from his eyes.
"Sleeping Beauty is awake," Francis sang out. Getting up and smiling at Mary, he said, "I shall go wait outside with Russell while the Hulk here dresses and then we will take you for breakfast. I know you are starved." His gaze slid over her as she stood up and he added, "Then we will take you shopping."
"Shopping?" she asked, reluctantly tearing her gaze from Dante's naked chest to peer at him uncertainly.
"We need to buy you clothes," he decided and then pointed out apologetically, "Darling, you are dressed like an old woman."
"I am an old woman," she said with amusement.
"Yes, but you look like Barbie. We should dress you accordingly." He grinned suddenly. "It will be such fun."
Mary smiled faintly, thinking it might very well have been fun. Unfortunately, she didn't have her purse, and therefore didn't have money until she found a bank. Actually, she realized with sudden concern, even then she'd have a problem, since she had no way to prove who she was so that she could gain access to her accounts. She had no ID. Not that that would help since she no longer looked like the sixty-two-year-old woman she was.
"Stop fretting," Francis said lightly, heading for the door. "The council will take care of everything."
"The council?" Mary murmured with confusion, but Francis had already slipped out the door and was closing it behind him.
"The council is basically our governmental body," Dante explained, his deep rumble sounding directly behind her.
Mary turned sharply and he immediately drew her into his arms.
"Good morning," he growled just before his lips covered hers.
Mary sighed into his mouth and slid her arms around him as they kissed. But when he began to back toward the bed, pulling her with him, she broke the kiss and dug her heels in to stop him. "Francis and Russell are outside."
"Good. They can stay there," Dante muttered, his mouth moving to nuzzle her neck.
"They're taking us to breakfast," she breathed, tilting her head to give him better access despite her hunger.
Dante paused, then sighed and slowly straightened. "Food."
Mary chuckled at his expression. It looked to her like he was weighing his different hungers in his mind. Food or her? She helped him out by saying, "I'm hungry."
"So am I," he admitted, and then muddied the water by grinding against her so that she could feel the morning erection he was sporting.
Mary moaned, and then pushed herself away from him. "Food first."
"You are a hard woman, Mary Winslow," he complained, turning to move back to the bed to grab up his jeans.
"I'm not the one who's hard," she said on a laugh and headed for the door.
"Sassy wench," he said with affection as she slipped from the room.
Fourteen
"Did you have any trouble replacing the mattress?"
Mary glanced up from the bacon and eggs on her plate at that question from Dante and followed his gaze to Russell as the man shook his head. They were in a mom and pop restaurant up the road from the hotel. The decor wasn't much to look at, but Francis had assured her the food was extremely good when she'd joined him and Russell in the hall back at the hotel. He'd then led her to the room next door to the one she'd woken in, and made her feed on three bags of blood in a row while they waited for Dante to dress.
Mary hadn't thought she'd been feeling that kind of hunger at the time, but Francis had insisted it was better to be safe than sorry, especially since they were going out among mortals, and the moment he'd handed her one of the bags, her canines had dropped down into fangs. So Mary had gone through the three bags he'd handed her and even asked for a fourth when those were gone. As he'd said, better safe than sorry. The last thing Mary wanted was to find herself attacking some poor waitress or store clerk on her first outing as an immortal.
"The store manager was very accommodating," Russell said now, drawing her attention back to the conversation. "She arranged to have the new mattress delivered right away and even had her deliverymen take away the old one."
"Yes, and we did not even have to use mind control to get her to do that," Francis said, then added with amusement, "After Russell gave her one of his sexy smiles, she was smitten. I think she would have dragged the mattress out herself to please him if she had not been able to get ahold of her moving men."
Russell just shook his head and said, "We did have to use a little mind control with the movers. They were a bit alarmed when they saw the blood on the hotel mattress."
Dante grunted and nodded as he took a bite of his toast, apparently not surprised. Once he'd chewed and swallowed, he said, "Thank you for handling it."
"It was no problem," Russell assured him, and then cast Francis a teasing look and said, "Francis likes to shop."
"Shopping for mattresses is not my idea of the fun kind of shopping," Francis said with a sniff, then smiled at Mary and added, "Now clothes shopping for you, though? That will be fun."
"Clothes shopping?" Dante asked slowly.
Mary smiled with amusement at his expression. He looked as pleased at the prospect as she would at the idea of visiting the dentist.
"Yes, clothes shopping," Francis said with exasperation. "Just look at her, Dante. Mary needs clothes."
Dante didn't look convinced. Mary wasn't surprised. Joe had always hated going clothes shopping too. Taking pity on him, Mary said, "Dante doesn't have to come with us. He could head back to the hotel and get some more sleep while we shop."
"No," Dante said at once. "I will come with you."
"Are you sure?" she asked, thinking it would probably actually be nicer for her if he wasn't there, looking miserable and bored.
But Dante nodded firmly. "I will accompany you."
"Mary, honey," Francis said with amusement. "Now that he has found you, Dante probably will not let you out of his sight for . . . oh . . . a good century or so. We will just have to deal with it. Although," he added, turning to Dante. "Your coming with us means I will finally get the chance to tweak your wardrobe a bit."
"Tweak my wardrobe?" Dante asked, stiffening, and then he shook his head. "My wardrobe is fine."
"Everything you own is black," Francis said at once with a shudder that showed his opinion of that. "We need to change you up from faux funeral to fashion fabulous."
Dante scowled at the suggestion. "No. If I let you dress me, I would end up looking like one of the Village People."
Mary blinked at the comment, surprised at the reference to a band that had been around in the seventies. It reminded her that while he looked too young to know the band, he wasn't.
"You wound me," Francis said with irritation. "I have better taste than that."
"You are wearing pink," Dante pointed
out and Mary had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the comment. It wasn't that long ago Dante had been wearing her pink joggers and flowered T-shirt.
"That comment just shows how much of a Neanderthal you are," Francis assured Dante. "This is salmon and--" Pausing abruptly, he turned to stare at Mary wide-eyed. "Really? Pink joggers and a flowered--Oh, my, those did not fit him well at all, did they?"
Mary's eyes widened incredulously, and she found herself covering her forehead with her hands as she realized he was plucking the memory and image right out of her mind.
"That will not help," Francis informed her, and then added apologetically, "But I shall endeavor not to see and hear the things you are projecting."
Mary lowered her hands slowly, her eyes narrowing. "The things I am projecting?" she asked. "Plural?"
He nodded, his expression almost pitying, and Mary's eyes widened.
"What kinds of things?" she asked with alarm.
"Oh, you know," he muttered, suddenly seeming fascinated with the food on his plate. Picking up the end of a piece of bacon, he turned it back and forth on the plate from one side to the other. "Things you have seen . . . and done . . . and stuff."
When Mary then glanced to Dante, he grimaced and gave a slight, almost apologetic nod.
"You are not the only one. Dante is projecting too," Francis said reassuringly as if that should make her feel better. "Like we said, it is a new-life-mate and new-turn thing. It will pass eventually."
Mary stared at him with dismay. If she was running around projecting images of her memories, things she'd seen, and the stuff she'd done . . . Good Lord! She couldn't even look at Dante without thinking of him naked or all the things he'd done to her and they'd done together. That meant that, basically, her mind must be projecting what amounted to homemade porn.
"Pretty much," Francis agreed as if she'd spoken her thoughts aloud. "But as I said, it will pass eventually."
"How long is eventually?" Mary asked at once.
Francis shrugged helplessly. "It varies with each couple. And how it ends does too. For some it stops abruptly, and for others it just slowly fades over time, like a radio being slowly turned down."
"How long though?" Mary insisted.
Francis glanced to Russell. "How long would you say it was for us?"
Russell shrugged. "A year and a half, maybe closer to two."
"Years?" Mary breathed with dismay.