This story is a sequel to "Day Dreams," which is archived on my fiction page
at http://www.nancykam.com/fanfic/cindy/cific.html .


Author's note: For most of its incarnation, this story was known as
"Catharine's Story." That's because it's a very belated birthday present
for Catharine Clemmens. A few months back, I wanted to let her know how
much I appreciate her friendship and all the support and encouragement
she's given me, so I asked what she'd like to see in a story written in her
honor.

As a result, I've written an honest-to-goodness adult story, complete with
sex scenes. I'm posting it with more than a little bit of trepidation, I
might add, so please be gentle with me, 'kay? <g>

Anyway, Catharine ... I think I got just about all the elements you wanted
in here, and I hope you won't be disappointed. You've waited very patiently
for me to finish the darn thing, and I'm most appreciative. I guess you
could consider it either a very late or a very early birthday present. Take
your pick!

Many thanks to my most excellent beta readers: Nancy Kaminski, Kathy
Whelton and Jody Aldred. Also, a big "thank you" to Marg Yamanaka for her
invaluable info on Toronto.

Dutiful disclaimer: This story is based on the Forever Knight television
series created by J. Parriott and B. Cohen. The characters belong to TPTB
at Sony and Columbia, who graciously allow us to play with them from time
to time. No copyright infringement intended.

Permission granted to archive at Mel's FK fanfic site and Stephanie's ftp site.

WARNING: This story contains adult content (Nick/Natalie) and is intended
for adult audiences only.

One more note: While the story is set during second season, it isn't meant
to be considered part of the FK episodic universe. It's more of a "what if
this had happened in second season" type piece.

I, personally, have always preferred the order in which FK's second-season
episodes were filmed, rather than the order in which TPTB decided to air
them, since it seems a much more logical progression to me. Therefore, for
the purposes of this story, "Crazy Love" occurred about midway through the
season, with "Be My Valentine" and "A More Permanent Hell" taking place
near the tail end. This story would then fit in somewhere between "Crazy
Love" and "Be My Valentine."

Okay, without further ado ... Happy Belated Birthday, Catharine! (And I
hope everyone enjoys.)


==========================
Day Dreams

By Cindy Ingram
June 2000
==========================

Nick paused in the open doorway of the Fenwick Shop of Antiquities, putting
off the inevitable as he took a moment to get his bearings. The underlying
tension he'd felt for the last two weeks or more seemed heightened tonight,
almost painfully so, the struggle to contain the vampire taking an even
greater toll than usual.

The last thing he needed now was a messy homicide. And it was messy. He'd
already learned as much from a uniformed officer stationed outside the
storefront.

Nick automatically surveyed the shop's interior, crowded with police
personnel. His jaw clenched as he tried to ignore the hunger that burned
inside him, an unquenchable thirst that slowly consumed his thin facade of
control, leaving him painfully on edge. It was like an itch that couldn't
be scratched, but magnified a hundred times over and growing in intensity.
After three days of fighting it, he'd finally caved in, doubling his usual
amount of blood consumption in hopes of assuaging the aching need, of
quieting the relentless urges that now haunted him even as he slept.

It hadn't helped. The truth was, nothing could, except ...

"Sooo, partner ... are we going inside, or do you plan on taking up
permanent residence in the doorway? Should I have your mail forwarded
here?"

He turned to find Don Schanke staring at him, eyebrows raised and a
quizzical expression on his face. Frowning, Nick glanced away. Then, with a
resigned sigh, he steeled himself and entered the shop. Schanke snorted
softly and followed him inside.

As Nick pushed past the curtain that separated the back room from the main
part of the store, he stopped short, the nagging hunger again threatening
to overwhelm him. But contrary to expectations, it wasn't the smell of
stale blood still rank in the air that assaulted his senses. It was
something quite different. Something he'd been trying to avoid all week
long. Something ... or someone.

Natalie.

Her tantalizing scent beckoned to him, a lure almost too strong to resist,
or so he'd found in recent days. In her presence, the heavy taint of blood
that hung over the room faded to insignificance.

The vampire hungered, but not for mere sustenance. It wanted something
more, had demanded it with increasing frequency and force of late, and
would not be satisfied with less.

It wanted Natalie -- to taste her, to possess her, to draw her inside and
know her in every way possible. In short, to kill her ... for that would be
the inevitable result of succumbing to that dark need.

He'd felt it before over the centuries, but never so strongly as he did
now. Perhaps it was because he'd never resisted with such single-minded
determination, or because he'd never denied himself then stayed to face the
consequences.

The last time this compulsion had risen up inside him, Janette had been
there to assuage his need, and Natalie had not been the focus of his dark
cravings. Now, however, Janette was away, and the vampire clamored not for
her blood, but for that of the mortal woman who had claimed his heart -- or
as much of it as he still possessed.

He spotted her kneeling beside the body of the victim, as yet unaware of
his arrival. She was in a smaller room adjacent to the one in which he
stood -- a makeshift vault, by the looks of it. Nick absently noted the
steel-reinforced walls and the heavy iron door that stood ajar, its massive
deadbolt mechanism obviously intended to keep the room's contents secure
from unauthorized personnel.

Too bad it hadn't helped the victim.

Reminded of his reason for being there, Nick tore his gaze from Natalie and
focused on the body, hanging back a moment as Schanke moved forward. Just a
few seconds more and he would have mustered enough control to face her, as
long as he didn't linger too long in her presence.

"Hey, Nat," Schanke said by way of greeting. "Watcha got?"

With a grim smile, she rose. "Not much that can help, I'm afraid. This is
Gerald Fenwick, age 53. He died of a blunt trauma to the head. As you can
see for yourself, that's a nice way of saying he had his brains bashed in.
No definitive guesses as to the weapon of choice at this point. Possibly a
brick or a small statue similar to a few they've got here on these shelves.
I can tell you more once I've had a closer look."

Nick watched as her eyes sought him out. He summoned up a faint smile and
moved to join them.

"We'll hold you to that," he promised, trying to act as if nothing out of
the ordinary was happening.

Natalie gave him a searching look, and Nick could tell by her expression
that she knew something was wrong. She had already guessed he'd been
deliberately avoiding her and was obviously hurt. She hid it well, but he
knew her, better than he'd let himself know anyone in a long time, and he
wasn't fooled. No more than she had been by the many excuses he'd offered
to explain his sudden absence in her life.

He'd been grateful when, after a few attempts to find out what was
bothering him, she had finally followed his example and backed off,
choosing to keep her distance from him in return. Whether it was out of
hurt or respect for his wishes or both, Nick was afraid to speculate. He
didn't want to be the source of any more pain, particularly where Natalie
was concerned, but the possible alternative if he lost control was simply
unthinkable.

Unwilling to meet her eyes for more than a second or two, Nick instead
surveyed the room, his gaze settling on a small object that rested on the
floor a short distance from the body. Grabbing the excuse to move away from
Natalie and the too-tempting scent of her blood, he pulled a latex glove
from his pocket, snapping it onto his hand as he went. Then, glove in
place, he squatted down to retrieve the object, holding it up to the light
for a better look.

It was a bronze amulet. He knew at first glance that it was old -- very
old. Carved on the face was a series of circles, one inside the other,
spiraling down to a human figure situated at the center. Whether the figure
represented a man or a woman, he couldn't say, since it was virtually
featureless, save for arms, legs, and a head. Turning it over in his hand,
he noted the brief inscription on the back, but the ancient text was one he
couldn't decipher.

Lowering the piece, Nick risked a quick glance over his shoulder and found
that Natalie had turned her attention to Schanke, who was busy asking
questions about the deceased. Safe from prying eyes, Nick indulged himself
for a moment, staring longingly, defying the dark hunger that mocked his
emerging feelings for her.

If only things could be different for him -- for them. If only ...

Lost in wishful thoughts of a future that would never be, seconds passed
before Nick noticed the growing warmth in his hand. He glanced down,
surprised to find a gentle heat radiating from the amulet, seeping into his
skin through the latex glove he wore.

Disconcerted, he almost dropped the piece, certain he had picked up a holy
artifact of some kind. But though it continued to warm his hand, it didn't
burn. Cautiously, he closed his fingers around it, and as he did so, a
strange sensation flowed through him, like a muted current of electricity.
It wasn't painful. In fact, it was almost pleasurable. He'd never
experienced anything like it.

For a fleeting moment, the oppressive darkness pressing in on him abated,
pushed aside by a soothing wave of warmth, giving Nick his first taste of
peace in weeks.

He closed his eyes and focused on the inner calm, trying to understand what
was happening and why. But already the feeling was fading, and he felt the
darkness move in once again, swirling in and around him like a thick, black
fog.

"Got something there?"

Startled, Nick looked up to see Schanke standing beside him. He'd been so
fixated on the amulet and the strange sense of peace he'd felt that he
hadn't even heard his partner's approach. He frowned, trying to hold on to
the brief respite he'd been granted, but it was no use. The odd sensation
was gone.

Responding to Schanke's question, he shrugged, opening his hand as he held
the piece up for the other man to examine.

"It was on the floor next to the body. Maybe he was holding it when the
killer attacked him." His voice was deceptively calm, and Nick
congratulated himself on mastering at least that much of his restless
beast. He had no wish to take out his dour mood on his partner.

Schanke squatted beside him. "You don't think it might have something to do
with the murder?"

Nick shook his head. "I doubt it. Otherwise, why would the killer have left
it behind?"

Snorting, Schanke glanced around the room. "I'm thinking robbery wasn't the
motive, or the killer wouldn't have left *any* of this stuff behind.
Judging by the ritzy locale and the fancy set-up out front, I'd say there
are some pretty pricey items on these shelves."

"Detectives ..."

They rose in tandem as Officer Bailey approached, followed closely by a
large man with red-rimmed eyes. Bailey quickly made the introductions.

"This is Mr. Oswald Carter," he said. "He's the victim's business partner
and the one who found the body. He called it in and was waiting for us when
we got here. I've taken his preliminary statement but told him you'd want
to speak with him."

Nick nodded, relegating both his inner struggle and his curiosity about the
amulet to the back of his mind in favor of the job at hand. "Thanks,
Chuck," he said. "We'll get with you and your partner later." As Bailey
nodded and moved away, Nick pulled an evidence bag from his pocket.
Dropping the amulet inside, he sealed the bag shut.

Turning to Carter, Nick paused for a few seconds to study the man. Schanke
remained silent, letting Nick take the lead.

"Thank you for speaking with us, Mr. Carter. I know this must be very
difficult. I'm Detective Knight," he said, motioning to himself, "and this
is my partner, Detective Schanke." He waited as Schanke gave a brief nod
acknowledging the introduction, then continued. "Can you tell us what
happened here tonight?"

The shop owner's eyes filled with tears. "I wish I could, Detective, but I
really have no idea." His voice, surprisingly high for a man of his size,
trembled with suppressed emotion and his hands were equally unsteady as he
made a visible effort to calm himself. "When I arrived, things were much as
you see them now. There was no indication anything was wrong until I
entered the back room and found Gerald lying on the floor. I ... I could
see he was dead, and that's when I called the police. I was very careful
not to disturb anything. The only thing I touched was the phone."

Though Carter's grief seemed genuine enough, something about his manner
caught Nick's attention. Perhaps it was the way he studiously avoided their
eyes or the nervous manner in which his gaze repeatedly returned to the
body of his partner then just as quickly veered away. It could have been
the natural shock of discovering a brutally murdered friend, but Nick had a
hunch it was something more.

Taking a deep breath, he extended his senses, honing in on the man's
heartbeat as he asked another question. "Do you know of anyone who would
have a reason to kill your partner? Anyone with a grudge or an opportunity
to gain from his death?"

As Nick listened, Carter's heart rate accelerated dramatically even as he
shook his head. "No ... no one," he insisted. "Gerald was quite well liked
... by everyone. I don't know of a single soul who would do such a thing."

"And you say Mr. Fenwick was dead when you found him," Nick stated,
repeating the man's earlier claim.

Again, Carter's heart rate fluctuated wildly. "Yes ... yes, he was." For a
moment, he seemed on the verge of adding something but stopped.

"Was there something else, Mr. Carter?" Nick prompted.

"Well ... I'm afraid you'll think I'm quite insensitive, but ... might I
ask how long the shop will be closed? It's just that ... we have clients
who depend on us, and several shipments are due in very soon. I really must
be able to take care of things."

Schanke spoke up. "I'm afraid the shop will be closed until our forensics
team has finished combing it for evidence, sir. It'll stay closed until
they're sure they've got everything they need. I'm sorry, but right now
there's no telling how long that could take, probably two or three days at
most. But as soon as you've gone to the precinct to make a formal
statement, we'll ask you to come back here with an officer to go over
things and see if there's anything missing."

Once more, Nick heard the telltale sound of an accelerated heart rate. "I
believe I can tell you that already, Detective," Carter said, almost before
Schanke had finished speaking. It was as if he'd been anxiously waiting for
them to ask. "While I was in here waiting for help to arrive, I noticed
that a crate containing several rare Phoenician artifacts is not where it
should be. In fact, there's no sign of it at all."

The man paused, licking his lips nervously as he lowered his voice. "I
believe Gerald must have walked in on the thieves, and that's why he was
killed. They probably had no intention of harming anyone ... probably never
even expected him to be here. He was out of town, you see, and not due back
for another day. Perhaps they knew that and chose now to act."

Interestingly enough, this time, there was little or no change in the man's
heart rate. Nick silently made note of the fact, then held up the bag
containing the amulet. "I found this on the floor next to your partner. Is
it possible the killer was after it, as well?"

Carter peered at the amulet, then glanced away and shook his head. "No ...
no, I don't believe so. It's an Etruscan artifact, part of a private
collection that came to us after the owner passed away and his widow
decided to sell the lot. It's a rather ordinary piece ... relatively
speaking, of course ... one of little value compared to some of the other
items we obtained in the same transaction." He cleared his throat uneasily.
"I ... I doubt anyone who knew anything about the artifacts we keep here
would have bothered with it."

Nick listened carefully. Though Carter was clearly ill at ease, his
heartbeat had settled into a steady rhythm as he was questioned about the
amulet. Nick was certain that, in this instance at least, he was telling
the truth.

"Is there a reason it might have been laying next to his body?" he asked.

Carter hesitated. "I had left it on the counter the night before. I was
preparing to ship it to another dealer to sell on consignment. Perhaps it
was knocked to the floor during the struggle."

"What about the rest of the collection?" Nick asked.

Carter stared at him blankly, then blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"You mentioned there were other pieces ... are they here?"

The big man hesitated, then glanced around as if searching the shelves. A
moment later, he turned back. "Why, no ... as a matter of fact. I suppose I
should have mentioned this before, but we had a break-in here several weeks
ago. Most of the collection was taken. Gerald has ... had ... already
reported the theft to the insurance company."

"I see." Nick's reply was properly noncommittal. "Can you describe the
items to us?"

Carter nodded. "There were several pieces, quite lovely -- finely wrought
bracelets, rings, and necklaces fashioned from gold and silver, many of
them adorned with --"

"Baltic amber," Nick interrupted, nodding thoughtfully.

"Yes ... Baltic amber," Carter repeated, clearly surprised a homicide cop
would know that.

Nick smiled. "If they were anything like the pieces in the Vernhoff
Collection, I'm sure they were quite impressive." He glanced down at the
evidence bag containing the amulet. "I suppose this is about ... what ...
Third or Fourth Century B.C.? It doesn't show the Oriental influences of
earlier pieces."

Again, Carter's surprise was obvious. Schanke made a noise that was a cross
between a snicker and a cough.

"I must commend you on your knowledge, Detective," Carter said. "You're
quite right, the amulet is Third Century, circa 340 to 320, to be precise.
The Etruscans were superb craftsmen, were they not? But as I said, this
piece ..." He motioned toward the bag. "... while a superior example of
bronze workmanship, just isn't as valuable as the other items."

Nick studied him silently for several seconds, then nodded. "Thank you, Mr.
Carter, those are all the questions we have for now. Under the
circumstances, we'll have to hold on to the amulet for the time being. And
it would be a good idea if you didn't leave town until we're sure we have
all the information we need." He motioned to Bailey, who had been hanging
in the background, waiting for his cue. "In the meantime, Officer Bailey
and his partner will give you a ride to the station house and bring you
back here when you're finished. We appreciate your cooperation." Nick
handed Carter his card. "And if you think of anything else we should know,
you can reach me at that number."

The shop owner nodded. "Anything I can do to help bring Gerald's killers to
justice," he said, still avoiding their eyes. "It's just all so terrible
... like a nightmare ..." His voice trailed off as he turned to leave with
Bailey.

Nick and Schanke stood shoulder to shoulder, watching his departure.

"So ... what do you think?" Schanke asked, staring after Carter.

"I think he did it."

Schanke's eyebrows rose, but he nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, me, too."

"We just have to figure out why," Nick added.

"Not to mention prove it," Schanke pointed out.

"That, too," Nick said, a faint smile of acknowledgment on his face. As
Schanke started toward the door, Nick glanced across the room, both
relieved and disappointed to see that Natalie had already left with the
body. As much as he wanted to see her, to talk with her, he knew he
couldn't risk any extended contact until he had better control of himself.

That meant, of course, that he couldn't talk to her about the amulet and
the strange effect it had had on him when he'd first picked it up. Speaking
of which ...

After a quick survey of the room to make sure no one noticed, Nick stuffed
the evidence bag containing the artifact into his pocket. Then, with a last
glance around the shop, he turned and followed Schanke out the door.


++++++++++


Nick looked around the living room, perplexed.

He was sitting on the couch in Natalie's apartment, which was nothing
unusual in and of itself. The problem was, he had no idea how he'd gotten
there. The last thing he remembered was going off-shift and heading home
for the day. He'd downed almost three bottles of steer's blood in a vain
attempt to take the edge off the ever-present hunger, then had retired
upstairs to his bedroom for some much-needed rest.

He frowned as he tried to make sense of the situation. A soft yowl
distracted him, and his gaze was drawn to the floor where a large gray and
white cat crouched, staring up at him. As Nick watched, the cat rose,
gathering itself for a graceful leap that landed it on the cushion next to
the startled vampire. Once there, it bowed its head and rubbed the side of
its face against Nick's arm as a low purr vibrated through its body.

"What the ... Sydney?" Nick ventured, astonished at the feline's friendly
greeting. Natalie's cat, while not openly antagonistic, had always
maintained an aloof distance whenever Nick came to visit, tolerating but
never welcoming his presence. It was painfully clear to the vampire that
Sydney recognized a fellow predator.

The cat's abrupt change in attitude was a mystery to him, though not as big
a puzzle as his own presence in Natalie's apartment. Determined to find
some answers, Nick rose from the couch. If he didn't know, surely Natalie
would.

He took a step toward the hallway leading to her bedroom, then hesitated.
"Natalie?" he called softly.

He was greeted with silence.

Perhaps she was sleeping and hadn't heard him. Nick debated a moment,
trying to decide whether he should make a discreet exit or wake her in
hopes she could shed light on how he'd come to be there. In the end, his
need to know won out.

Sydney remained sprawled on the couch, tail twitching lazily, as his hooded
gaze followed Nick's progress across the room. Pausing at the entrance to
the hall, Nick glanced back at the big cat, who by now had lost interest
and was instead involved in the delicate business of grooming his front
paws.

Facing forward again, Nick gazed down the hallway toward Natalie's bedroom.
He listened intently for a heartbeat but heard nothing. As he moved closer,
however, his ears detected an indistinct sound and he frowned, trying to
identify it. It wasn't until he'd taken a few steps more that the faint
drumming noise finally resolved itself into the sound of running water.

A shower.

Nick paused, his frown deepening. He should have been able to hear that
from the living room, but he hadn't. Nor could he hear the sound of
Sydney's heartbeat from where he now stood.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Puzzled but wary, he approached the bedroom door, left slightly ajar, and
gently pushed it open. He called out softly as he did so. "Nat?"

No answer. Stepping inside, he glanced around the room he'd seen only once
before when he'd helped Natalie move into her then-new apartment. At the
time, it had been filled with bare furniture and unpacked boxes, nothing
like the warm and inviting room that presently lay before him.

An object caught his eye and he frowned, forgetting for a moment why he'd
entered the room as he strode across to the bed. There, nestled on top of a
midnight blue comforter, was the amulet he had spirited away from the crime
scene. How it had landed on Natalie's bed was as big a mystery to him as
his own presence here.

The last time he'd seen it was back at the loft, right before he'd gone up
to his bedroom. He had taken it out of his pocket, too tired at that point
to speculate further over the strange sensation that had assailed him when
he'd first touched it. Instead, he had placed it in the carved wooden box
where he kept his watch and keys, then headed  to bed, postponing his
curiosity until after he got some sleep. Now, here it was in Natalie's apart
ment, transported by some unknown means -- and so was he.

Nick reached for the amulet, then paused and straightened, deciding to
leave it there for the time being. For some reason, reclaiming it didn't
seem half as important as finding Natalie had become.

Once more, Nick tried to focus in on her familiar heartbeat and again heard
nothing but the sound of the shower, louder in here than it had been in the
hallway. His gaze fell on a door located at the far side of the room. Just
as the bedroom door had, it, too, stood slightly ajar, silently beckoning
to him. Nick responded unconsciously, moving toward the warm strip of light
that spilled through the narrow opening. Suddenly realizing what he was
doing, he tried to stop but found himself in the grip of a force he could
not control.

He reached the door to the bathroom just as the sound of running water
ceased, only to be replaced by someone humming a faint melody.

It was Natalie's voice.

Cautiously, Nick placed a hand on the door and pushed, slowly widening the
gap until it revealed the frosted glass door of the shower stall reflected
in the mirror above the sink. He froze, his breath catching in his throat
when he spotted the blurry outline of a figure standing inside the stall.
The frosted glass denied him a clear view, but the long hair and voluptuous
curves were instantly recognizable.

Mesmerized, he stared at the reflection in the mirror, knowing he should
look away but incapable of doing so. As the figure turned and a hand moved
to rest upon the door handle, his breathing quickened and his lips parted
in anticipation.

The shower door opened a crack. A slender arm appeared, reaching for a
large blue towel that hung from a hook next to the stall, then withdrew,
towel in hand, behind the frosted glass. Nick held his breath, waiting.

The splash of blue traveled slowly over those tantalizing curves, Nick's
eyes following its progress with an almost fanatic intensity. Then the
movement stopped, and the figure stepped closer to the glass. As the door
began to swing open, everything seemed to shift into slow motion. Nick
watched, dimly aware of an odd sensation he couldn't quite place. It wasn't
until a shapely leg materialized that he finally realized what it was ...

The rapid pounding of his own heart.

With a start, Nick jerked awake, the reverberating heartbeat still echoing
in his ears. A second or two passed before he realized the noise was not an
aftereffect of the dream, but the sound of someone hammering on the loft
door below.

He took a deep breath, running a shaky hand through his hair as he tried to
calm the hunger now attacking his waning defenses. Tossing off the
restraining satin sheet, he jumped from the bed and swiftly descended the
stairs to the main floor of the loft. The steady pounding on the door
continued unabated, but he altered his course at the last minute to detour
by the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle from the refrigerator. Draining
its contents with a speed usually reserved for live prey, he paused just
long enough to dispose of it, then reached for another.

There was no time for self-recrimination, no time to curse himself for his
weakness. He had to erase the lingering effects of the dream and bolster up
his shaky control before facing the person on the other side of the kitchen
door.

At last, Nick felt sated enough to open that door, only to find an
exasperated Don Schanke standing on the threshold.

"Jeeze, Nick! I've been hammering on the door for the better part of half
an hour! You sleep through that, you sleep through the phone, you sleep
through the buzzer on your intercom system ... you'd probably sleep through
the Apocalypse, then wonder where everybody went!"

"Schank," Nick said quietly.

Schanke halted in mid-tirade. "Yeah?" he asked, disgruntled.

"What's up?"

"Besides you, you mean ... *finally*?" Schanke said pointedly, brushing
past Nick.

Sighing, Nick closed the door and called upon his thin reserve of patience
as he trailed his partner into the living area. Schanke plopped down onto
the sofa, waited for Nickto settle into the leather armchair, then
surveyed him critically.

"You look like hell," he stated bluntly.

Nick gave him a sour look. "Maybe that's because I didn't get my full eight
hours."

Schanke surprised him by ignoring the barb as he instead eyed him with mild
apprehension. "Nick ... is everything okay, buddy? I mean ... you've seemed
a little ... I dunno ... distracted lately. Like there's something really
eating at you. And the other night when that file turned up missing you
practically took Lapinski's head off. That's not like you."

Schanke paused, then shrugged awkwardly, as if embarrassed to show his
concern but determined to do so, nonetheless. He searched Nick's face with
an earnest gaze. "If there was something wrong, you'd tell me, right? You
know I'm here for you."

Nick started to deny there was a problem, then hesitated. He couldn't lie
to Schanke, not when he could see how worried his partner was. But neither
could he tell him the truth. All he could do was hedge a bit and hope
Schanke would accept it.

"It's nothing serious, Schank ... just a little burned out, I guess. To
tell you the truth, I'm thinking of putting in for some vacation time once
we get this case wrapped up. I could use a little R&R."

The thought actually hadn't occurred to him until right before he'd said
it, but it might be the best idea he'd had all week. At the rate things
were going, he'd be lucky if the vacation didn't turn into a permanent
break with this life, but he wasn't prepared to take that step yet. There
had to be a way to beat this thing -- something that didn't involve an
exchange of blood with another vampire or bringing any harm to Natalie.

He looked up in time to catch his partner's relieved smile as Schanke
nodded enthusiastically.

"A vacation ... right ... why didn't I think of that?" Laughing, he shook
his head. "Man, oh, man, Nick ... I don't mind telling you, you had me a
little worried there. I thought there might be something wrong. Healthwise,
I mean. You know ... with your condition?"

Nick managed to summon up a reassuring smile. "It's nothing like that,
Schank. I'm not in any danger." Although he couldn't say the same for
everyone else around him, he thought bitterly.

"Good! Glad to hear it!" Schanke leaned back against soft leather of the
sofa, his body now completely relaxed. "In that case, what say we get back
to the subject at hand? Guess what I found out about our buddy Carter."

He paused expectantly, and Nick shrugged. "I'll bite. What?"

Arching an eyebrow, Schanke tapped the side of his head with one finger.
"For all his talk about ancient this-and-that, Ozzy-boy isn't too big in
the brains department. A few weeks ago, he started putting out feelers on
the street, looking for help in moving some hot merchandise. He thought he
could find some small-time hood with big-time connections. What an idiot,"
he smirked, shaking his head in disbelief.

Sidetracked by mention of the missing artifacts, Nick glanced over at the
wooden box that contained the amulet. For one crazy second, he wondered if
it would still be there were he to look inside. Or was it even now laying
in Natalie's apartment ... on Natalie's bed?

Snorting softly, he shook his head, dismissing the thought. True, the dream
had felt startlingly real, but the fact was it hadn't happened. The amulet
was there in the box, right where he'd left it. And no matter how much he
might wish it, he'd never been in Natalie's bedroom. He'd never been
mortal. Not for almost eight hundred years.

Nick dragged his attention back to Schanke.

"How did you find out about Carter's activities so fast?" he asked,
genuinely impressed. Nick occasionally had to remind himself that even
though some people, himself included, tended to underestimate his partner
at times, there was a very good reason Schanke had been made a homicide
detective.

Schanke shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, though he was having a hard
time concealing a grin. "I couldn't sleep, so I took an hour or two this
afternoon and called in a couple of favors. Big Bad Oswald isn't too savvy
about the shady end of the business, and he got kinda sloppy about who he
approached. Word got out, but only one poor sap was stupid enough to take
him up on the offer -- Benny Harper."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "The same Harper who was connected to the Robbins
case last year?"

"One and the same," Schanke nodded. "I've got an APB out on him now.
Shouldn't be long before the uniforms turn him up. There aren't that many
rocks left to hide under for a four-time loser like Benny."

"So we wait for Benny to surface, see what Natalie can tell us, and in the
meantime do a little more digging," Nick said, as Schanke nodded in
agreement. His partner rose to leave, and Nick trailed him over to the
elevator.

"Schank ... "

The other man turned.

"Good work," Nick said, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. This time,
Schanke didn't try to hide his grin.

"Yeah ... well ... I can't let you have all the fun, now can I?" He shoved
open the elevator door and stepped inside.

"See you in a few," he added, giving Nick a smug salute as the door clanged
shut.


++++++++++


Once Schanke had departed, Nick indulged in a pre-shift feeding binge that
would allow him to keep the hunger in check and get through the evening
with some degree of normalcy. But when he stopped at the morgue to follow
up on the Fenwick autopsy, he found he'd merely traded one dilemma for
another.

He was having a hard time concentrating on the case. As Natalie began a
rundown of her findings, his traitorous mind kept flashing to that hazy
image behind the shower door and the bare leg emerging from the stall.

At one point, he surfaced from a mental side trip to find Natalie shaking
her head in mild exasperation.

"Well?" she asked, obviously waiting for a response to something she'd said.

"Ah ..."

She crossed her arms. "Never mind. Just tell me ... did you catch any of
it, or should I start from the top?"

Giving himself a mental kick, he smiled weakly. "Better start from the
top," he confessed.

"Mm-hmm," she replied, regarding him suspiciously. "I'm not *even* going to
ask."

Taking a deep breath, she quickly expelled it. "Okay ... quick recap.
Fenwick was bludgeoned to death with a heavy object. But, interestingly
enough, he was also struck by something else prior to that. The area around
the body was obviously swept clean, but underneath and in a small wound at
the front of the cranium there were tiny bits of fired clay, otherwise
known as terracotta."

Nick frowned. "He used one of the artifacts."

"Exactly." Natalie nodded. "The amount of residue is so minute there's no
way to date it, but I'd bet it's even older than Lacroix. It could have
been from a vase or a large bowl, maybe an urn, though there's no way to
tell that either."

"But it wasn't the thing that killed him?"

"No," she said firmly, shaking her head. "It most likely broke apart at
first impact. Even if the killer was fairly strong, which the force behind
the blows would certainly indicate, the object couldn't have caused the
kind of damage the victim suffered. That was inflicted by something else,
possibly one of those small bronze or gold statues they reportedly kept in
the vault. I haven't found anything yet to pinpoint that, but I'll give it
a closer look.

"Putting it all together, I'd say Fenwick surprised the killer, who then
grabbed the vase or bowl or whatever it was and hit him over the head with
it. That explains why the initial blow was made towards the front of the
cranium. The angle of that first strike does suggest the killer was
slightly taller than the victim, but the subsequent blows were inflicted
further back, indicating that Fenwick was probably on his knees at that
point. My guess is he was dazed but still conscious after the first blow,
maybe struggling to stand up again, and the killer finished him off with
the heavier weapon."

Natalie shrugged. "Anyway, that's the condensed version. If you want all
the gory details, you'll have to read the report."

"Thanks, Nat," he said, gazing at her a little longer than intended. His
wayward thoughts, along with his eyes, strayed down to her legs.

"Nick, you're doing it again," Natalie scolded. Tilting her head, she
looked at him curiously. "What were you thinking this time, or shouldn't I
ask?"

Yanked back to reality, Nick froze. "I'm thinking ... that Oswald Carter is
a big man, and strong," he lied quickly, grateful for once that he wasn't
capable of blushing. "Just the kind of person who could inflict the type of
blows you mentioned."

Though her eyes still held a hint of puzzlement, she nodded thoughtfully.
"Do you have anything on him?"

"Not enough. But Schanke's working on it."

She nodded again, and an awkward silence descended. Nick searched
desperately for something to say, but nothing came to mind. That old sense
of camaraderie he'd always taken for granted seemed to have disappeared,
leaving them both adrift in a sea of self-consciousness.

"Speaking of which," Nick said, breaking the silence at last, "I suppose
I'd better go give him a hand."

Natalie glanced away. "Yeah," she agreed, her voice now slightly distant.
"I guess you had."

Still, he stood there, reluctant to leave. He knew how much his seeming
disinterest in recent weeks had hurt her, even more so because she didn't
understand the cause. He wanted to tell her that he missed her, missed
spending time with her, and that he was only staying away to keep her safe.

"Nat?" he said softly.

Her gaze returned to his face. "Yes?"

He hesitated. It was better, in the long run, that she didn't know.

"Call me if anything else turns up."

The hopeful look faded from her eyes.

"Of course," she responded briefly, before turning away to busy herself at
the counter.

He'd been dismissed.


++++++++++


Nick was dreaming again.

This time he found himself on the small balcony outside her apartment,
standing just a few inches away from her bedroom window. He knew it was
hers because the curtains were open, offering him a clear view of both the
room and its sole occupant.

Not surprisingly, she was dressed in the same burgundy suit she'd worn
earlier that night when she'd stopped by the precinct. Or, to be more
precise, she was in the process of removing it.

He could have announced himself, or looked away, but he did neither.
Instead, he moved closer to the window. The darkness, and an obliging line
of trees that obscured the view from below, protected him from any curious
eyes that might have noted his presence on the balcony. A glass-paned door
adjacent to the window stood slightly ajar, letting in the cool night air,
the soft breeze stirring the leaves of a plant resting on a nearby table.
And next to the plant, almost hidden by the foliage, was the amulet -- as
out of place this time as it had been in the previous dream.

But, now, Nick had no interest in its presence -- all he could see was
Natalie. His eyes followed her every movement with the same kind of
single-minded intensity once devoted to the most elusive of his prey. What
he felt now, however, was not the initial stirring of a vampire's blood
lust but an altogether different kind of hunger.

He watched intently as she kicked off first one shoe, then the other,
before removing her watch and necklace and placing them atop the dresser.
The barest hint of a weary sigh reached his ears as she shrugged out of the
fitted jacket and draped it across the foot of the bed. Then, reaching  up,
she freed her unruly hair from its confining bun.

The movement pulled the thin fabric of her blouse taut across her chest,
drawing his gaze to the full breasts that strained against the material.
Lowering her arms, she shook her head just enough to send the mass of curls
tumbling about her face and shoulders. A stray tendril caressed her lower
lip, accentuating the inviting curve of her mouth.

Nick's eyes closed for an instant, letting his head fall back against the
brick wall as he gave free rein to unvoiced longings -- wondering how it
would feel to lose himself in the silken mass of her hair, to inhale the
sweet scent that teased his senses whenever she was near, to cover her
mouth with his own, plundering its warm depths until she stood breathless
and trembling with desire.

The mere thought of it made his groin tingle, and a wave of raw desire
rushed through his body, causing him to shiver violently. It took a moment
for the feeling to subside, but as it did, he inhaled deeply and opened his
eyes, turning back to the window in time to see Natalie unfasten her skirt.

Though he knew he only imagined it, every act seemed to unfold with
maddeningly slow deliberation, leaving him trapped somewhere between
breathless anticipation and exquisite realization. A part of him wondered
briefly if her movements were always so sensuous, but he had never noticed,
or if his heightened state of arousal as he watched her disrobe gave added
meaning to each subtle gesture.

At another time and place, he might well have castigated himself for
playing with fire, but not once did it cross his mind to turn away. Why
should it? He wasn't *really* invading her privacy or betraying her trust.
And for once, there was no danger that he would hurt her. It was just a
dream -- more vivid than most, perhaps, but a figment of his slumbering
imagination, nonetheless.

What harm would it do to give in to the desires he kept forever buried in
his waking life? What shame was there in dreaming?

The questions went unanswered as the skirt slid softly down her legs,
followed easily by her slip. The garments pooled at her feet, and she bent
to retrieve them. As she did so, the tail of the long silk blouse she wore
rose up, revealing smooth thighs and accentuating a gently rounded derriere
that insisted on remaining hidden. Nick's body responded -- tightening with
the growing tension inside him, a hot fluttering deep in the pit of his
stomach.

She straightened, depositing the skirt and slip on the bed, then raised her
arms high in a long, languid stretch that again lifted the hem of her
blouse to a dangerous level. Nick's breath caught in his throat and his
hand drifted down, seeking out the desperately aching bulge in his
trousers. For a moment, he imagined it was Natalie's hand there --
Natalie's loving touch -- and the air escaped him in a sudden rush, a low
moan wrenched from his lips as his body jerked sharply in response.

She paused, her face turned halfway toward the window. He froze and swore
silently, certain he had given himself away. But a second later, she shook
her head, scooped up the discarded clothing, and disappeared into a large
walk-in closet, leaving Nick to sag against the wall in mingled relief and
disappointment. Leaving him to deny an aching need he could not satisfy.

Pressing his face to the glass, he waited breathlessly for her return,
trying to make some sense of what he felt. He had known many alluring women
over the centuries, women whose perfection of form and purity of visage
easily surpassed Natalie's more understated beauty. He had held them,
caressed them, taken pleasure from them in every way imaginable and
returned it tenfold.

By rights, he should have been resistant to the all-consuming desire that
now assailed him. But the sight of Natalie in her bedroom, and the
accompanying fantasies that played themselves out in his head, affected him
in a way he would not have thought possible after such a long life -- as if
he were a green youth instead of a jaded immortal.

Part of it was the temptation of forbidden fruit, perhaps -- the hopeless
desire for completion, the unresolved longing of a passion denied. But it
was more than that, too. It was the unrivaled power of a woman deeply loved
that made her far more appealing than any past enchantress.

Yes, he loved her. He wanted her. But he could never have her. The very
thought played havoc with his emotions.

At last, Natalie emerged from the closet, still clad in the silk blouse.
Her slip and hose dangled from her hands as she stopped to place the former
in a lingerie drawer, then carried the latter into the bathroom. She
returned a moment later, empty-handed, and paused beside the bed, arching
her spine in a clear attempt to relieve tense muscles. As one hand rested
in the small of her back, the other circled her neck, rubbing steadily from
side to side. Though unintentional, the gesture's highly suggestive rhythm
further inflamed Nick's senses.

Then, her hands were at the top of her blouse, the pace maddeningly slow as
first one button was freed, then the next. His eyes sought out the gap in
her blouse, widening ever so gradually with the downward progress of her
hands. All the while, he was teased unmercifully by tantalizing glimpses of
creamy skin and the lush promise of rounded breasts cradled in white satin.

His mouth went dry, and his heart thudded heavily in his chest. The
hammering beat reminded Nick, yet again, that this was nothing more than a
dream. But having reached such a state of acute arousal, his body didn't
care. Real or not, all that mattered was what he saw, and what he felt ...
and what he might do about it, if only he dared.

Though the throbbing heat in his groin threatened to consume him, he stood
motionless, holding his breath as she freed the last button and, with a
slight shrug, shed the blouse. It slipped from her shoulders, its downward
fall arrested by the crook of her elbows when she raised her arms to
unfasten the cuffs.

His lips parted and his breathing quickened to a near-dizzying rate as his
gaze lingered hungrily on the deep cleft between her breasts. He longed to
explore it ... to caress every inch of her flesh with a fierce
possessiveness that burned straight through him ... to claim what he knew
belonged to him alone.

The blouse fluttered through the air and settled on the bed, her hands
already reaching back to unclasp her bra. One strap fell, then the other,
and her breasts were suddenly, gloriously revealed.

She was even more beautiful than he'd imagined in any one of a hundred
dreams that had preceded this one. And although he knew it was yet another
slumber-induced fantasy, it felt excruciatingly real, as vivid and absolute
as anything he'd experienced in his waking world.

He could hardly comprehend it. There was Natalie standing before him,
wearing nothing more than an insubstantial wisp of underwear. As he stared
at her, an electric charge seemed to surge from his groin to his stomach,
pulsating through his body in a searing current of icy-hot sensation. He
ached, with a need beyond bearing, to tear away the barriers between them,
whether physical or otherwise, to pull her into his embrace and press his
body so hard against hers that neither would know where one left off and
the other began.

He must have made a sound, done something to draw her attention, because
suddenly she turned and her gaze locked with his. The startled blue of
those expressive eyes bored into him as she stood frozen, lips parted in
surprise.

No more than a second passed before the spell broke and she grabbed up her
blouse, shielding herself from his view. But as they continued to gaze at
each other, a spark ignited deep in her eyes. Slowly -- so very, very
slowly -- she lowered the blouse.

With that one gesture, the barriers fell. Helpless to withstand the silent
invitation, he abandoned his post at the window to move swiftly toward the
open door. When he reached it, he found her waiting just a few steps away,
the blouse already forgotten, discarded on the floor behind her.

Again, their gazes locked. Her face was calm, almost serene, with the rapid
rise and fall of her breasts the only sign that anything out of the
ordinary was about to occur.

"Natalie ..."

Her name was the barest whisper on his lips. He wasn't even certain she'd
heard it until he saw tears welling up in her eyes, and a brilliant smile
lit her face. Without thinking, he stepped toward her, his arms reaching to
gather her tightly into his embrace, to kiss her, to caress her, to make
her his in every possible way ...

But what he touched, instead, was not the warm silken texture of her skin,
but the cool satin of his pillowcase as he abruptly awoke in his own bed,
alone and painfully aroused. Eyes glowing and fangs fully extended, Nick
glanced wildly around the room. Kindled by the dream, the blood lust swept
through him like a wildfire consuming a drought-stricken plain, leaving him
helpless to stand against it.

Uttering a cry that was half moan, half snarl, Nick savagely bit into his
wrist. The sudden gush of hot blood triggered a much-needed release ...

... and in the confines of the darkened bedroom, the sound of her name
echoed as he came.


++++++++++


It was even harder that night for Nick to face Natalie. With the erotic
imagery of the dream still fresh in his mind, the urge to possess her was
stronger than ever. Not trusting himself to be alone with her, he was
grateful for Schanke's inhibiting presence as they stood in the morgue
discussing the Fenwick case.

Not long after their arrival, Natalie showed them a copy of the preliminary
forensics report she'd received earlier that evening.

"What about the amulet Nick found near the body?" Schanke asked, leafing
through the pages. "I don't see any mention of it here. Did forensics pick
up anything on it?"

Startled, Natalie glanced at Nick. He gave a faint shake of his head,
sending her a silent message. "Uh ... not yet," she said, turning back to
Schanke. "They've got a few things still pending. I'm sure we'll hear
something soon."

"I have a hunch it's a dead end anyway," Nick quickly interjected. "Like
Carter said, it most likely got knocked off the table during the struggle."

Schanke sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right. But for my money, Carter's
our guy. And the sooner we can prove it, the sooner we can put this case to
bed."

Almost on cue, the phone rang. Natalie answered, then passed the receiver
to Schanke. "It's for you," she said, stepping aside to allow him better
access.

As Schanke answered the call, Nick braced himself, expecting Natalie to
take this opportunity to quiz him privately about the amulet. But he was
surprised when, instead of approaching him, she merely folded her arms and
leaned back against the counter, staring studiously at the floor. In fact,
she seemed to be deliberately avoiding his gaze.

Now that he thought about it, except for the brief glance she'd given him
when Schanke had mentioned the amulet, not once since his arrival had she
looked directly at him. Under the circumstances, Nick should have been
relieved that she continued to distance herself ... but he wasn't.

Schanke hung up the phone and turned to Nick with a satisfied smirk.
"Bingo!" he crowed, staring pointedly at his partner as he gleefully rubbed
his hands together. Nick knew instantly what he meant and nodded.

"Bingo?" Natalie echoed, clearly lost.

Schanke happily filled her in. "We decided to play a hunch Nick had, and it
just paid off in spades! A buddy of mine who transferred to Corporate Crime
did some checking for us and turned up some pretty interesting info about
our Mr. Carter. Seems he and Fenwick had a parting of the ways about nine
months ago. Carter wanted to strike out on his own, but he couldn't make it
and wound up knee-deep in hungry creditors. Fenwick, who by all accounts
had a heart of gold, took him back into the business ... but *not* as a
partner. That's something good ol' Oswald forgot to mention when he was
giving his statement at the precinct."

Schanke snorted. "Like we wouldn't notice or something," he complained,
shaking his head in disgust, then stopped and looked at Nick. "Have I
mentioned he's not exactly the Albert Einstein of the criminal world?"

Nick responded with a faint smile. "Yeah, Schank, once or twice."

His partner grinned. "Just making sure you noticed. Hey! Remember what
Carter said about someone stealing those artifacts awhile back? Wanna bet
his bank account took a hefty little jump right around that time?"

Natalie looked skeptical. "If he were behind the theft, surely he wouldn't
be foolish enough to put that much money into his personal account."

Schanke snorted. "You don't know this guy, Nat. He's either the most inept
killer we've ever run across, or he's just dying to get caught. He can't
even tell a good lie." He turned and elbowed Nick. "C'mon, pardner. What
say we go wake up some bank officials?"

Before Nick could respond, Natalie turned and busied herself at the
counter. "Nick ... I need to talk to you a second," she said, still
avoiding eye contact. "Would you mind?"

Nick hesitated. His recent cravings seemed muted for the time being, but he
was still reluctant to be alone with her. And he was pretty sure he knew
what she wanted to talk about -- yet another reason not to stay. How could
he explain what had happened with the amulet when he didn't really
understand it himself?

On top of that, every time he looked at her he was bombarded with images of
the dream Natalie -- her lush breasts, her creamy skin, the way her eyes
had smoldered with desire. It made it more than a little difficult to
concentrate.

"It shouldn't take long," she promised, as if sensing his reluctance. But
she still wouldn't meet his eyes.

It was just as well, Nick thought, since he was afraid of what she might
see there if she did. He turned and glanced at Schanke. "You go ahead. I'll
catch up with you back at the precinct."

Schanke nodded. "No problem. I'll see if I can get things moving with the
bank records." Turning to Natalie, he jerked his head toward Nick. "Just
don't let him zone out again or it'll be July before he makes it back to
the precinct, okay?" Schanke grinned.

Natalie smiled in return. "I'll do my best, Schank."

The room fell silent as he disappeared out the door. After an awkward
second or two, Natalie took a deep breath, muttering something under her
breath that, to Nick, sounded like "Get a grip, Lambert!" She finally
turned to face him.

"Is there something you forgot to tell me, Nick?" she asked.

Both the question and the tone were pure Natalie, but the straightforward
look that usually accompanied them was missing. Instead, she seemed
strangely awkward and self-conscious. Nick frowned. He knew what was
bothering him, but he didn't understand why Natalie seemed so ill-at-ease.
Could she sense something was wrong?

He gave up trying to puzzle it out when he realized she was waiting for an
answer.

"It's from Fenwick's shop."

"That much I figured out on my own," she said, crossing her arms as she at
last looked him in the eye. "Mind telling me why Schanke thinks Forensics
has it?"

"Because it was on the floor near the body, and I bagged it at the scene."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I remember seeing it before I began my
examination." She paused, then asked, "Where is it now?"

"I've got it."

This time, she didn't ask the question but merely waited for the answer.

"Something happened when I picked it up, Nat. Something ... I can't explain."

She smiled, and a hint of their old, easy camaraderie returned as she
sighed and rolled her eyes. "Now why did I know you were going to say
that?" she asked wryly. Sobering, she regarded him curiously. "Okay ... you
can't explain it, but can you at least describe it?"

Nick nodded. He couldn't bring himself to tell her everything, but he could
give her a reasonably accurate account -- leaving out one or two major
details, of course.

"I was feeling on edge at the crime scene -- all the blood," he explained.
"But when I picked up the amulet, I felt something ... strange. It started
to warm in my hand, and a tingling sensation went all through me. And then,
I couldn't feel it any more -- the hunger. It was gone. It was the first
time in --"

Stopping abruptly, he realized he had almost said too much. Though it was
under control at the moment, the hunger he'd felt then was still very much
with him, lurking just below the surface. He couldn't forget that, and he
couldn't let her suspect. She wouldn't understand, even if he could bring
himself to explain it to her. He'd tried once, but she hadn't wanted to
hear the truth. He wouldn't make that mistake again. He wouldn't admit to
her what a monster he really was.

"It was the first time ... I'd ever felt anything like it," he finished lamely.

"You're sure it wasn't your imagination," Natalie said. It was more a
statement than a question.

"I'm positive," he said, relieved that she believed him.

"Could it be some kind of ... religious artifact?"

Nick shook his head. "I don't think so. It wasn't like that. It felt ...
good. Not like it feels when I touch a cross. Besides, if it were, I should
feel something every time I pick it up."

"And you don't?"

"No ... not since that first time." Nick sighed. "I know it was wrong to
take it, Nat, but I just wanted a little time to study it ... to try to
figure out what happened and why."

"Have you been able to?"

Again, Nick shook his head. "No. I've done some brushing up on the Etruscan
civilization, but I haven't run across anything that sounds remotely like
this amulet."

"Etruscan? Didn't they live in some part of Italy?"

"The central part, mostly," Nick confirmed, "in what's known today as
Tuscany. They were there before the rise of the Roman empire. For such a
thriving civilization, they're shrouded in mystery. No one really knows for
sure where they came from. Some think they emigrated from Asia Minor.
Others say central Europe. And some think they were there all along and
just ... grew ... out of the existing culture. They dominated the region
for a few centuries, then eventually disappeared with as little fanfare as
they came."

He paused, frowning. "There's an inscription on the back of the amulet, but
even though some of the letters are similar to those found in the Greek
alphabet, no one's ever been able to translate the language. So there's no
way to find out what it says," he concluded, his frustration reflected in
his tone.

"You mean there aren't any ancient Etruscan vampires running around out
there who could help you out with it?" Natalie asked, straight-faced but
with a telltale twinkle in her eye.

Nick smiled, surprised and pleased to find her joking with him. "If there
are, let's just say I haven't met any."

They fell quiet again, this time with noticeably less tension between them.
Natalie broke the silence.

"You know, it's odd about that amulet. I --" She stopped, her brow
furrowing, then shook her head.

Forgetting the danger of proximity, Nick moved closer. "What?" he asked.
"What about the amulet?"

Hesitating, she glanced up, and her face flushed slightly as she gazed into
his eyes. "Nothing. It's nothing."

Nick didn't believe her. There was something she wasn't telling him and it
centered around the amulet. Perhaps she disapproved of his decision to take
it, or maybe she was merely curious about why it seemed so important to
him, but he didn't think so. It was more than that. He could feel it.

But that's not all he could feel. Standing so close to her, the memory of
his dream and the emotions it had stirred in him rose up like a great wave,
catching him unawares. The hunger he'd struggled to hold at bay dashed
against the thin shell of his fragile control, battering at it, threatening
to break through and sweep him away in a flood of dark desires.

Nick inhaled deeply, trying to maintain control. It was a mistake. The
alluring scent of her blood teased his senses, but there was something else
as well -- something unexpected and ultimately more dangerous. She was
aroused. He could smell it. The musky fragrance of her desire hovered thick
and sweet in the air around them. His groin tightened in response.

He stared down into her wide eyes, the siren's song of her heartbeat
resonating in his ears. It accelerated even as he gazed at her -- picking
up speed, calling to him, begging him to take her in his arms and taste the
heady nectar flowing freely through her veins. It commanded him to dare a
taste of heaven and drink in the tantalizing essence that was Natalie.

It was impossible to resist.

Her chest was heaving as he slowly leaned toward her, his gaze fixed on the
throbbing pulse at the base of her neck, his lips parting in anticipation.
For an instant, she swayed toward him, then seemed to catch herself and
backed rapidly away. As his eyes locked with hers, he saw the dazed look on
her face give way to a dawning expression of alarm. A distant part of his
mind sounded a warning, but it went unheeded. The vampire was in control,
and the overriding urge to possess this woman was all that mattered to it.

Nick moved toward her, advancing relentlessly as she scurried backward,
bumping into a tray of instruments and almost sending it crashing to the
floor. But not quite.

He saw her mouth moving, though he heard no sound. Either she couldn't
speak, or her voice failed to reach him through the mind-numbing haze of
the blood lust pounding in his eyes and ears. The room and everything in it
took on a crimson hue as the hunger driving him escalated beyond the simple
need for sustenance. His fangs, sharp against the inside of his mouth,
throbbed and ached with the need to pierce the tender flesh of her neck.

His nostrils flared and a low, soft growl rumbled in his chest as he
cornered her between a filing cabinet and the wall, her backward retreat
foiled by the confines of the room. He moved in, holding her gaze, then
gently, deliberately pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the
wall. Resting his palms against the hard surface on either side of her
head, he used the power of his hypnotic stare to keep her eyes locked with
his.

"Surrender," he whispered, the seductive tones of the vampire deepening his
voice. "Give yourself to me," he commanded.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he felt her body relax. Her lips parted, and a
smoldering spark ignited in her glazed eyes. Her hands rose to twine about
his neck, her back arched to intensify the contact between them. Her head
fell back against the wall and turned, baring her throat to his hungry
gaze.

She was warm and willing, her body pulsing with life. She was his, and he
would take her. The waiting had come to an end.

He lowered his mouth to her throat, baring his fangs, scraping them gently
across the soft flesh as he pressed a passionate kiss to the throbbing
pulse point. But before he could rear his head back, preparing for the
ultimate penetration, a sudden noise cut through the muddled haze of
sensations with crystal clarity -- the sound of a door opening.

"Natalie, honey, I've got --"

The words ended in a slight gasp, followed by thunderous silence.

Nick froze, his body tensing, his face hidden against Natalie's neck as the
vampire roared in silent outrage and his mind struggled to make sense of
the unexpected interruption. He stood motionless, his rational side
fighting to regain control, battling the urge to take the woman in his arms
regardless of the unwelcome audience he now recognized as Grace Balthazar,
Natalie's assistant.

"I'm so sorry ... I didn't ... I mean ... I just ... I didn't realize ..."
She sounded flustered, embarrassed. Hardly surprising. It must have come as
quite a shock to find the normally reserved Nick Knight and the
ever-professional Natalie Lambert locked in what appeared to be a torrid
embrace right in the middle of a work shift.

Still, Nick didn't move, not even to turn his head and acknowledge the
woman's presence. He couldn't. To do so would be to risk losing what little
control he had managed to regain. Instead, he stared helplessly down at
Natalie and saw the dawning horror in her eyes as she realized what had
almost happened, the same appalled dismay he knew was reflected in his own.

From a faraway place, he heard Natalie speak, her voice faint but amazingly
steady under the circumstances.

"It's ... all right, Grace. It's okay."

Nick wondered who she was really trying to reassure -- Grace, herself, or
him. And why she hadn't pushed him away to run screaming from the room he
couldn't begin to imagine.

From behind him, Grace spoke again.

"I'll leave these test results on the counter here. I ... uh ... just call
me if you need anything else."

Nick heard a rustling noise, followed by footsteps, then the door opened
and closed and she was gone.

"Nick ..."

Her voice was soft, tentative ... and tinged with fear. It pierced his
heart like a burning stake.

He didn't want to hear what she would say. He had to leave, before he lost
control again. He had to get away, so Natalie would be safe. Releasing his
hold on her, he stepped back, too ashamed to meet her eyes. He turned and
strode toward the door as she called his name again, her voice louder and
more insistent now. But he didn't stop, not even when he heard her start
after him. He couldn't. He was too afraid of what might happen.

Instead, putting on an unearthly burst of speed, he vanished out the door.


++++++++++


Nick stared out the window as the first light of dawn touched the horizon.
Raising a half-consumed bottle of steer's blood to his lips, he
deliberately kept his back to the living area of the loft where empty
bottles littered the floor and the red message light of the answering
machine mocked him with its relentless blinking.

She had called not once, not twice, but at least half a dozen times since
he'd left her in the morgue. Schanke had called, too, wanting to know why
his partner had booked off halfway through the shift. Nick had ignored them
both, content to wallow in his abject misery.

Schanke, worried when Nick failed to answer his phone, had announced his
intent to call Natalie to see if she could shed any light on the mystery.
That would solve one problem at least, Nick thought. He had no doubt she'd
come up with some plausible story. He didn't have to fear Schanke would
arrive to interrupt his self-imposed exile. And Natalie ...

Nick shook his head. Not even Natalie would be so foolish as to show up
here now, not after what he'd almost done to her.

An instant later, as if to prove he couldn't get anything right, the lift
whirred to life and began its creaking descent to the ground floor. Only
one person could have summoned it.

Raw panic mushroomed inside Nick, then faded away as he closed his eyes in
weary resignation. He should have known. From the first moment she'd met
him she had repeatedly risked her life. Why should he think now would be
any different?

When she stepped into the loft, he refused to look at her. Instead, he
stared resolutely out the window. "You shouldn't have come here, Nat," he
said coldly, furious that she had so little regard for her own safety.

"Maybe I wouldn't have had to if you'd answered your phone," she countered.

The words were flippant, as was her tone, but he could hear the underlying
wariness in her voice. Good. At least she wasn't completely oblivious. She
recognized the danger, even if she chose to ignore it. With any luck, he
could convince her he was a lost cause, and they could both move on with
their lives.

Or, she could move on. He would simply trade one dead end for another.

He stiffened as he heard her move toward him. She stopped, respecting his
unspoken plea.

"Nick ... what happened in the morgue --"

"Was not my fault," he interrupted harshly, then turned to face her, his
eyes as cold as his voice. "Isn't that what you were about to say?"

She shook her head. "No. The truth is, I don't *know* what happened in the
morgue. That's what I came to find out. But whatever it was, whatever
happened ... or almost happened ... I know you didn't want to hurt me."

Nick stared at her incredulously. "I wanted to kill you, Nat! Don't you
understand?" He spat out the words, desperate to make her see the truth.
"The vampire wanted to take you ... right then, right there ... and there
was *nothing* I could do to stop it!"

"But you did!" she objected.

"No." He shook his head vehemently. "Grace did. If she hadn't shown up when
she did, you would be dead now."

He could tell she wanted to deny his words, but something stopped her.
Instead, she stared into his eyes, and he knew the truth was there for her
to see.

But neither would she give up so easily.

"Nick, something happened to push you over the edge tonight. I know that
you've been ... different ... these last few weeks. Something's been
bothering you and you wouldn't tell me what. But if I knew ... maybe I
could help. Maybe --"

"You can't help, Nat." His voice was weary now. His anger had vanished,
along with his hope. "The only thing you can do for me is leave."

He hadn't wanted to state it so baldly, but she'd left him no choice. Now
if only she would listen.

"Nick, please ..."

With a quick shake of his head, he turned his back on her again. He couldn't 
stand to have her plead with him. He'd made the decision. There was nothing 
left to say.

But Natalie obviously felt otherwise. "At least tell me why." Her voice was
quiet, controlled. To someone who didn't know her as well as he did, she
might have seemed totally unaffected by his words. "I deserve to know that
much, don't you think?"

He squeezed his eyes shut as a pang shot through him. The truth was, she
did. But how could he tell her?

The silence was heavy as she waited for his response.

Nick turned slowly. He couldn't deny her the right to know. There were so
many things he'd kept from her, things that were a part of his other
existence, that had nothing to do with the relationship they'd forged. But
this ...

Cold panic blossomed inside him as the hunger began to stir. With a defiant
snarl, Nick raised the bottle of steer's blood to his lips, downing the
remaining contents in the blink of an eye. Before the empty bottle could
hit the floor, he was in the kitchen, yanking open the refrigerator door,
using his teeth to tear the cork from the bottle, and gulping down the cold
liquid inside.

The craving subsided, arrested before it had truly awakened. Breathing
heavily, Nick wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and
turned to find Natalie staring at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears.
His heart twisted in his chest.

"It's been like this for some time now," he said softly. He gestured toward
the empty bottles scattered about the floor. "Each day, it gets worse ...
harder to control. The vampire wants you, Natalie ... *I* want you."

There. He'd finally admitted it. And what good would it do them?

He risked another glance at her, but the expression on her face was
impossible to read. Several seconds passed, then ...

"You want me?" she echoed, as if she couldn't trust what she'd heard. Her
voice was small, almost vulnerable.

Reluctantly, he nodded, closing his eyes. "And the dreams only make it
worse," he whispered. Then his eyes flew open as he mentally cursed
himself. He hadn't meant to tell her that.

"Dreams?" The word carried a sense of urgency, a sudden underlying
sharpness that hadn't been there before.

"Of watching you ... not being able to touch you." He'd finally confessed,
and now he couldn't seem to stop. "I don't know why, but the amulet was
there, too," he said.

He watched as Natalie's lips slowly parted and a strange light filled her
eyes. "At my apartment," she murmured. "Outside my window ..."

Their gazes locked as an electric current seemed to leap across the room.
Suddenly, Nick knew. It was insane. It was impossible. But it was also
true.

The dreams hadn't been dreams, not in the true sense of the word. They
couldn't be, because she'd been there with him. He knew it, and she knew
it. The truth was there in her eyes, just as it was in his.

And neither of them knew what to say.


++++++++++


Eventually, the shock faded, enough to allow them to hold a rational
conversation. They talked for hours, until the sun was high in the sky and
Nick could barely keep his eyes open. Neither of them knew what it meant,
and nothing was settled, but Nick agreed that he wouldn't leave Toronto
until they'd had a chance to explore the possibilities.

Until they'd had a chance to dream again.

He made Natalie promise that she wouldn't return to the loft uninvited, no
matter what did or didn't happen. For if they couldn't unlock the key to
the amulet in that strange dream world they shared, then he would have to
move on. His hunger for her would not be suppressed for long. That point
was driven home more than once during their discussion.

Fortunately, he had a large supply of steer's blood on hand. But without
the soothing influence of the amulet, something he'd not been able to
recapture since that first moment he'd held it, Nick's condition would pose
too great a threat to Natalie. If their gamble didn't work, he would have
no choice but to leave this life behind.

With plans in place, Natalie finally departed, and Nick turned toward the
stairs. The amulet he'd taken out earlier in the day had been returned to
the box after Natalie had looked it over, confirming it was the same one
she'd seen in her own dreams.

He hesitated, then crossed the room to the box and removed the amulet.
Clutching it tightly in his hand, he turned off the lights and headed up
the stairs and into the bedroom.

For once, he could hardly wait for sleep to overtake him.


++++++++++


For a moment, he thought they had failed. He'd expected to find himself at
Natalie's place, as he had in previous dreams. Instead, he was standing by
the elevator in his own loft.

But when he turned his head and saw the amulet laying on the dining room
table, the knot of tension in his stomach eased. Without quite realizing
how, he knew he wasn't alone.

He found her sleeping on his couch, curled up on her side with one hand
tucked beneath her cheek. At some point before she'd drifted off, she must
have turned on the stereo. The opening strains of a love song floated
through the loft, the rough, mournful voice of Joe Cocker providing a
poignant counterpoint to the unspoken feelings that lay between them.


Saw you
That was all I had to see
Wanted you
Had to have you next to me
From that moment
I knew that you'd be all I'd ever need


Looking down at her, Nick felt such an aching tenderness -- a bittersweet
longing that had become far too familiar in recent months. The urge to
touch her grew, and he knelt beside the couch, reaching out to gently
stroke her hair. In that moment, he forgot about the amulet and their plans
to examine it more closely in this strange dream world. All he could think
about was Natalie and how very precious she was to him.

He loved her, cherished her ... wanted her.

She sighed in her sleep, murmuring something under her breath as she
shifted position, rolling onto her back. His hand stilled. Then, as if
guided by an invisible force, it slid down to cup her breast, his fingers
spreading to encompass the soft, full mound that filled his palm. A sweet
rush of gratification surged through him, and his eyes closed briefly as he
savored the feel of her in his hand.


And there's a place inside my heart
Nobody's touched before
And when I found you
I found all that I'd been searching for
You turned my world around


He knew he should feel guilty about touching her this way, without her
knowledge or consent. But he didn't. He couldn't. It was so hard to
maintain the physical and emotional distance necessary to keep her safe.
Now, by whatever mysterious means, he finally had a chance to show her what
she meant to him.

And he would. If he had the courage ...

Opening his eyes, he found her gazing at him in mute surprise. He jerked
his hand away.

"Nat, I --"

He stopped as she touched her fingers to his lips.

"If you were going to apologize, Nick ... don't," she whispered, caressing
his cheek as she smiled at him. There, shining in her eyes, was the love
they'd never dared acknowledge. The same love he knew was reflected in his
own.


All I know
Is that it feels like forever
All I know
Yes I love the way it feels
All I see
Is how good we are together
And I never wanna see it slip away
I'll never let you go
Is all I know


On impulse, he rose and reached out to her, inviting her to join him. She
stared up at him, hesitant at first, then granted his request as she placed
her hands in his, allowing him to pull her gently to her feet. Sliding an
arm around her waist, he gathered her close to him, guiding her in a slow
dance before the fireplace. The song played softly in the background as a
distant part of his mind noted how fitting it seemed -- a message of love
and hope meant solely for the two of them.


Hold me
Love is you trusting me
It's telling me
Let's put our hearts in the hands of fate
Time will tell us
If what we've got was worth the wait
And there's a fire that's been burning deep inside of me
And I don't need nobody else
'Cause now you're here with me
You've turned my world around


Her head rested on his shoulder; his face was buried in her hair. Though
the music continued, their movements gradually slowed, becomingless and
less pronounced. Soon, they were all but standing still, locked tightly in
each other's embrace.


I might have never met you
In another time and place
Now I never could forget you
I could never walk away
That's all I know
'Cause there's a place inside my heart
Nobody's touched before
And when I found you
I found all that I'd been searching for
You've turned my world around


He felt her tremble in his arms, heard her softly indrawn breath. It struck
an answering chord deep inside him.


All I know
Is it feels like forever
All I know
Is I love the way it feels
All I see
is how good we are together
And I never want to see it slip away
I'll never let you go


It was insane, he knew. This was no solution to their dilemma. But they had
come so far and waited so long and, despite the mysterious power of the
amulet, seemed no closer to an answer than when they'd first begun. If this
was all they could have, then so be it. He would take it and be grateful
for it. No more questions. No more fear. The gift they'd been offered this
night would not go unclaimed.

With a feather-soft touch, Nick tilted her chin up, staring intently into
her eyes as he looked for some acknowledgement of what was about to happen.
He found it -- that, and so much more.

Freeing her chin, he slowly unpinned her hair, releasing the mass of curls
to tumble about her shoulders. Her lips parted slightly as her large eyes
gazed up at him.

Without thinking twice, Nick accepted the unwitting invitation, lowering
his head and brushing his mouth against hers ... once, twice, three times.
Pulling back, he waited for her to protest, to question what they were
doing, but the words never came. Instead, her hands slid over his chest and
around his neck, blazing a trail of fire as they went. Her eyes were
closed, her face upturned ... waiting.

Bowing his head again, he ran his tongue lightly back and forth across her
lips, gradually increasing the pressure until he was licking steadily,
begging access to the sweet warmth of her mouth. He punctuated his silent
plea with soft nips and nibbles -- capturing first one lip, then the other,
between his teeth, sucking and tugging gently until, with a helpless moan,
she at last surrendered.

Molding her body to his, she opened her mouth wide. He responded instantly,
plunging his tongue into the velvety depths, tasting and caressing every
bit of that forbidden territory with a frantic need that bordered on
desperation. He was inside her at last.

He burned hot and feverish, every part of him aching for more. Breaking off
the kiss, he spun her about, his arm snaking around her waist to pull her
hard against him. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled the spicy
scent of her shampoo, losing himself in the soft texture of her curls and
the intoxicating feel of her in his arms.

Biting down lightly on her earlobe, he let his hands slide beneath her
shirt and venture upward to cover her breasts, cupping and kneading them
gently. She arched into his touch, a low moan escaping her lips as her head
fell back against his shoulder. His thumbs brushed across her nipples, then
moved in teasing circles, his fingers tickling the sensitive flesh on the
underside of her breasts. All the while, he continued to kiss and lick her
neck, returning now and again to suck on a delicate earlobe.

When his hands roamed lower, he heard her gasp and felt her quiver in his
arms, and an answering shudder coursed through his body. Pausing briefly to
stroke her soft belly, he grasped the hem of her shirt, tugging it up and
over her head as he tossed it aside. His gaze fastened on her breasts, his
fingers drifting back and forth across the generous swell of skin that rose
above the confines of her white satin bra. At the same time, his tongue
darted inside her ear, swirling about in small, warm, wet circles.

He felt another shudder run through her, and with a soft whimper she raised
her arms, reaching back to tangle her fingers in his hair. Simultaneously,
she pressed against him, the delicious curve of her buttocks rubbing slowly
against his arousal. Nick inhaled sharply, and his groin tightened in
response, the exquisite pressure he'd felt before now burgeoning to a
near-intolerable level.

Yet again, he imagined what it would feel like to be truly inside her and
found his patience stretched almost to the breaking point. But he resisted
the urge to take her there on the floor, refusing to reduce their first
time ... perhaps their only time ... to nothing more than carnal need.
Natalie deserved to know how much she was loved, and he was determined to
show her.

His shirt joined hers on the Oriental rug, followed just as swiftly by her
jeans. From a kneeling position, he looked up, allowing his gaze to slowly
travel from her ankles to her face. Their eyes locked and her lips parted
as she watched him from beneath lowered lids, her face flushed with desire
and raw need.

He rose, letting his hands glide slowly up her legs and over her hips
before finally coming to rest on her shoulders. Slipping off first one bra
strap, then the other, he deftly unsnapped the front clasp. As the bra
dropped to the floor, her breasts sprang free, bared at last to Nick's
hungry gaze and ardent touch.

Covering her breasts with his hands, he squeezed gently, almost reverently,
marveling at their fullness and relishing the feel of her taut nipples as
they teased his palms. He nibbled on her shoulder, then ran his hands down
the length of her back to the gentle swell of her hips, settling them at
her waist. As he did so, his mouth traced a moist line of kisses across one
shoulder and down her front, forcing her to bend backwards to accommodate
him.

Slowly circling her nipples with his tongue, he lightly blew on each one in
turn then licked the sensitive underside of her breasts. He lavished
attention on every centimeter with single-minded devotion, his
ministrations continuing even as her hands skimmed across the broad expanse
of his chest, up his neck and into his hair. She clutched at his curls,
causing him to wince slightly as her fists twisted the strands in silent
entreaty. Taking the hint, Nick opened his mouth wide, sucking in as much
of the soft flesh as he could manage. Then, spurred on by the low-pitched
humming that emanated from her throat, he began to suckle in earnest.

Natalie, panting heavily, abandoned his hair to wrap both arms around his
head, hugging him to her chest as she leaned still further back, trusting
him not to let her fall. He reciprocated by pulling her even closer, his
eager lips and tongue continuing to torment and delight her.

Abruptly, she uttered a sharp cry and released her hold on him. This time
when her hands touched his chest, it was to push him away. Startled, he
lifted his mouth from her breasts only to find himself staring into
passion-darkened eyes as she fumbled for the waistband of his jeans and
tugged insistently at his belt.

Nick hadn't thought it possible to be any more aroused than he already was,
but her frantic movements proved him wrong. Eager to help with the task,
his hands covered hers, but at her low moan of protest, he froze.

"Nick ... please ..." she gasped, staring imploringly into his eyes. "Let
me ..."

Her voice failed her, but he knew what she wanted. He held her gaze with
his and gave a faint nod, letting his hands fall to his side. Natalie
reciprocated by pressing a quick, frantic kiss against his neck, which sent
ripples of pleasure coursing down his spine. Then, with a sharp tug, she
freed the belt buckle and went to work on his jeans. Seconds later, he
stood before her, clad only in a pair of boxers that did little to disguise
his extreme arousal.

Natalie moved closer, planting moist kisses across his chest, loving his
nipples with the same devotion he'd shown to hers. Then, staring up into
his face with smoldering eyes, she stole his breath away as she reached
down to lightly brush the tips of her fingers across the throbbing bulge in
his shorts.

The brief, teasing contact sent a hot surge of desire coursing through him,
like molten lava cascading down a mountainside, and with a strangled cry,
his mouth descended on hers, capturing her lips in a feverish kiss that
robbed them both of what little control they had left. Grasping her
buttocks with both hands, he pulled her hard against his groin as his hips
moved in an age-old dance of carnal delight. Natalie moaned deep in her
throat and clutched at his shoulders, trying to maintain her balance even
as she opened her legs wide to his passionate assault.

Without quite knowing how they got there, he found himself lowering her
onto his bed, settling her atop the satin sheets as he pressed his heated
flesh to hers. Somewhere along the way, they had shed their remaining
garments, and the tantalizing sensation of Natalie's nude form sprawled
beneath his own pushed him over the edge.

Showering her with kisses and whispered endearments, Nick tickled and
caressed every bit of flesh he could find. At his gentle nudge, her thighs
parted and a flood of moisture greeted his questing fingers. She moaned,
long and loudly, writhing and bucking under his hand as he lovingly stroked
the hot center of her desire, gifting him with a heady flush of power.

Impatient now, Nick pulled his hand away and swiftly replaced it with his
mouth -- a move that prompted another extended moan. It was followed by a
series of soft sighs and whimpers that gradually escalated into loud gasps
and cries of ecstasy as Natalie bucked wildly in response to each hot
thrust of his tongue.

"Yes ... oh, yeees ... oh, Nick ..." Her heated cries inflamed him further,
but with a skill born of centuries of practice, Nick took her to the brink
and held her there, refusing to grant her that final, merciful release.
Instead, he pulled back, drawing a strangled cry of protest that quickly
changed to a heartfelt groan as he leisurely kissed his way up her body and
settled in to nuzzle and lick her breasts. At the same time, his hand slid
between her legs, caressing and massaging, stimulating her past the point
of reason as she cried out his name. An instant later, her body tensed, her
back arched, and her juices flowed freely over his fingers.

He held her tightly as she rode out the wave then sank back onto the
mattress with a breathy moan. Her eyes opened, but her gaze was unfocused,
and her chest heaved as she struggled to draw air into oxygen-deprived
lungs.

He waited until the dazed expression left her face, then captured her mouth
in a hot, languid kiss. Pulling back, he smiled crookedly at her, but
abruptly sucked in his breath as her hand brushed against his groin. She
smiled lazily, encircling him with her fist and squeezing briefly before
drawing it from the base of his straining shaft slowly upward in a long,
smooth stroking motion that threatened to send him through the roof.
Staring into his eyes, she repeated it a second time, then a third,
gradually pumping faster and faster as he grew longer and harder in her
hand. As she did so, the fingers of her other hand sought out his sensitive
balls, stroking and fondling them with teasing deliberation.

He moaned as his head fell back and his hips jerked upward, suddenly
incapable of controlling his body's movements. He watched in rapt
helplessness as Natalie released him, then, never breaking eye contact,
parted her lips and inserted a forefinger into her mouth. She slowly pulled
it out, dripping with saliva, and touched him again, drawing the moist
finger lightly along the underside of his shaft until she reached the
pulsing tip. She rubbed gently, spreading the moisture, then, with a sultry
smile, leaned forward to blow across it with a cool, tickling breath.

Nick's jaw clenched as he tried to hold back a groan, but an instant later
he lost the battle when her tongue emerged to flick across the tip of his
throbbing shaft. Fingers twisting in her hair, he dragged Natalie's head
upward, covering her mouth with his own, devouring her with such
desperation and intensity that he lost all awareness of anything beyond the
warm, sweet depths he so ruthlessly plundered.

But a greater need called to him as he finally tore his mouth free and
pushed her back against the pillows, then positioned himself between her
eagerly parted thighs. Breathing heavily, he paused, holding himself in
place above her, fighting to regain some measure of control. His body cried
out to take her fiercely, savagely, but when he gazed into her
passion-filled eyes, his heart and soul demanded something more.

Opening his mouth, he sucked in deep, slow breaths -- willing the feverish
heat inside him to cool. A soft moan reached his ears and Natalie's body
moved restlessly beneath him, but he stilled the movement with a brief
touch and a gentle whisper.

"Wait," he breathed, the word barely stirring the damp tendrils of hair
clinging to her forehead. "Please ... wait."

Seconds ticked by, and gradually the red haze of passion receded. Nick
still wanted her with a fierce need that burned hot and low inside him, but
now he could do it right. Now, he could love her the way she was meant to
be loved. There would be no mindless joining between them -- not when he'd
waited so long.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he entered her -- the exquisite friction nearly
driving him mad. His breathing quickened again as he paused a moment to
savor the incredible feel of her ... so hot, so tight, so unbearably sweet.

An instant later, she tightened her legs around him, enveloping him in her
warmth, cradling his hips in a loving embrace. With eyes squeezed shut,
Nick bowed his head, immersing himself in the wonder of the intimate
contact. It was a consummation that should not have been possible for them
-- not if Natalie were to survive -- yet here they were, wondrously,
miraculously together.

He might have been content to stay that way indefinitely, but this time
Natalie would not be denied. Gasping his name, she wriggled insistently
beneath him, arching her back to increase the contact of flesh on flesh.
Her hands splayed across his buttocks as she spread her legs wide,
wordlessly begging him to finish what they had begun.

He raised his head and stared intently into her eyes. Then, holding her
gaze with his, he slowly withdrew, pausing for one agonizing instant before
he plunged back in, thrusting hard and deep.

Her head arched back and a cry erupted from her lips, her fingers digging
into the firm muscles of his butt. He moved again, easing in and out at
first, then pumping faster and more forcefully as she again wrapped her
legs around him. Her hips rose to meet the piston-like thrusts -- her arms
entwined about his neck, her fingers tangled in his hair.

As they moved together, his lips found their way to her throat and his
tongue caressed the soft flesh. At Natalie's encouraging moan, Nick bit
down gently, gripping the skin with dull teeth -- not because he was
compelled to but because, as if by doing so, he could prove something to
them both.

Her head turned, and she arched into the gentle pressure. Her nails raked
frantically up and down his back as he moved to vary the speed and force of
his thrusts. His own body was wracked by spasms of delight, triggered not
so much by physical sensation as by the realization that it was Natalie
writhing beneath him, that it was Natalie giving herself to him so
unreservedly.

He wanted it to last forever. He wanted to stay exactly as they were so
that the soft, desperate sounds she made would never stop. So that he could
spend the rest of his life with her nails digging into his back, her sweet
breath gusting hot and heavy on his neck, her lush breasts pressed hard
against his chest. So he could savor the feel of her smooth legs wrapped
tightly around him and her moist heat drawing him deeper and deeper with
each nerve-shattering thrust of his hips.

He wanted it to last forever, so he could gaze down into her flushed face,
burning with as-yet-unsatiated passion, and know that *he* was the only one
who could make her feel this way. That *his* touch was the only touch that
could fill the aching void inside her.

It was more than the sheer carnal pleasure of their joining. It was a
hunger of the soul, a primal passion impossible to put into words. It was a
beginning and an end, an awakening and a culmination. It was everything and
all things, fleeting yet everlasting.

He yearned to prolong the flawless perfection of the moment, but already he
could feel the sexual tension building to a head. In blind ecstasy, Natalie
arched her neck, head digging back into the pillow. By doing so, she again
unwittingly bared her throat to him, a seductive appeal the vampire could
never have resisted. But now, in this dream world ... this alternate
reality they had found ... it aroused a different kind of hunger -- a
burning need for completion that had nothing to do with the blood coursing
through her veins and everything to do with the feelings he could no longer
contain.

Lacing his fingers with hers, Nick raised their joined hands above her head
and held them there, forcing her breasts upward to meet his questing lips.
His tongue darted out to lick once across each taut peak. Through a supreme
effort of will, he altered the speed of his thrusts, ramming himself deep
inside and withdrawing, easing in and out with a slow and sensuous
deliberation that required all of his control to maintain.

Lifting his head, he showered Natalie's face and throat with ardent kisses,
then pressed his lips against the soft hollow where neck and shoulder met.
He inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet scent of her skin and the heady musk
aroused by their feverish lovemaking. As he buried his face in that
inviting warmth, Nick again escalated the force of his thrusts, pumping
harder and faster, delving ever deeper inside her, each thrust of his hips
punctuated by a deep-throated grunt.

He drove them both toward the very edge, and Natalie responded with untamed
abandon. She climbed with him from one plateau to the next, each movement
bringing them closer and closer to that perfect moment of mind-numbing
bliss. And then, just as Nick thought he would surely die from the sweet
agony of it all, they were there, a final burst of explosive passion
catapulting them to the brink and beyond.

Swiftly, he covered her mouth with his, swallowing her frantic cries of
bliss -- as if by taking them inside himself he could prolong the shared
ecstasy. Almost simultaneously, his own pleasure crested, the sheer
intensity of it snatching his breath away as it crashed over him in great
shuddering waves. Unable to contain the feeling, he tore his lips free from
hers and threw back his head, a loud, long groan of fulfillment erupting
from his throat.

The soul-shattering sensations lasted an eternity, or it seemed that way,
and left them both gasping for air. All the while, Nick heard himself
murmuring the words he had never dared to say out loud, whispering them
into her ear over and over again even as he gave himself up to the unending
waves of pleasure wracking his body.

As the tremors gradually subsided, Nick discovered he had collapsed on top
of Natalie, the full weight of his body pressing her down into the
mattress. He moved, intending to pull away, but her arms and legs tightened
around him in a silent plea to remain as he was.

It was an appeal he couldn't resist, nor did he wish to. Instead, he raised
up on his elbows, adjusting his weight just enough to keep from crushing
her. With one hand, he tenderly brushed the hair from her face, smoothing
it back from her sweat-slicked brow to reveal flushed cheeks and
heavy-lidded eyes still smoldering with desire. A faint smile of
satisfaction curled her lips as she let her hands glide slowly across his
shoulders and down his sides, sending an unexpected tingle of excitement
straight to his loins.

He smiled ruefully, knowing it was too soon to act upon his inclination,
though judging by the faint stirrings in his nether regions, he doubted it
would take long to recover. The wicked gleam in Natalie's eyes told him
she, too, could detect the telltale evidence of his renewed interest and
was already anticipating a repeat performance. Nick's tender smile turned
to a lopsided grin as he lowered his head to nuzzle her throat, reveling in
the contrast between her smooth, silken flesh and his rough, unshaven
cheek.

Natalie's arms closed around him, responding to his gesture with a low
murmur of contentment. Nick, in return, tightened his hold on her and
rolled swiftly onto his back, careful to maintain the intimate contact as
he settled her atop his body. With her head resting on his chest and her
curls tickling his nose, he tenderly stroked her hair then brushed his
knuckles across her cheek. He stopped, surprised to find her face wet with
tears. Taking her chin in his hand, Nick tilted her head up until their
eyes met and he was greeted with a brilliant smile.

The tension that had coiled inside him eased as his lips sought out hers.
Bestowing a brief yet tender kiss, he pulled back and waited.

"Nick ... I ..."

Her voice trailed off, and he nodded, acknowledging what she hadn't said.

"I know."

At this moment, words were superfluous as they shared the wonder of what
had just occurred. But Natalie was unwilling to leave it at that.

"Nick ... what you said ..."

His eyes never leaving hers, he again nodded. "I meant it, Nat ... every
word." Never had he spoken with more conviction.

Still, she stared at him silently, as if by doing so she would see into his
very soul. And, for what might be the first time since they'd met, he
gladly let her.

Another eternity seemed to pass, then a sweet smile curved her lips, her
eyes shining with unshed tears. "Me, too," she replied simply.

Nick sobered, his own expression grave as he stared intently down at her.
"No," he whispered, shaking his head. Surprise flashed across her face, and
he leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose. "Say it, Nat," he insisted
softly. "I want to hear you say it."

Her eyes brightened in a mixture of relief and reproach. "I will if you
will," she bargained, regarding him with just the barest hint of an
impudent smile.

He frowned. "I already did," he countered sternly. "Repeatedly, if I recall."

Natalie's eyes widened in feigned surprise. "Oh yeah," she said, drawing
out the words as if she'd only just remembered. "So you did." Her
expression softened, and she studied him with eyes filled with warmth and
tenderness. Taking his face in her hands, she brushed her mouth lightly
across his. "I love you," she whispered, their lips barely touching. "I
love you ... so much ..."

That was as far as she got before he captured her mouth in a long, sensuous
kiss, fueled by the smoldering fire in his loins. His hips moved against
her and she moved to welcome him -- all silken touches, soft sighs and
languid heat.

They made love again, this time slowly, tenderly, deliberately. They took
their time, fiery passion replaced by a quiet eroticism that was no less
intense. The climax, when it came, was not volcanic, as it had been before.
Instead, it was rich and sweet, a warm tide of pleasure that spread through
them both like thick molasses on soft butter.

When it was over, they lay entwined again, Natalie's soft curves molded to
his own hard-muscled form. Exhausted but happy, Nick ran his hands down the
length of her spine, pressing her to him. He was physically sated but
emotionally hungry for contact.

"Mmmm ..." Natalie responded as she snuggled closer. "I don't know which is
better ... what we just did, or what we're doing now." Eyes closed, she
yawned. "Though next time we do what we just did, Nick, I expect you to
dream up some protection, okay?"

When he didn't answer, she opened one eye, squinting up at his disbelieving
look.  "What? You think it's any more far-fetched than what just happened
here?" She snorted softly. "Better safe than sorry, I say. I mean, would
*you* care to explain to the whole precinct how I happened to get in the
family way?"

He continued to stare at her for several seconds, nonplused. Then, his
mouth curved in a roguish grin. "The thought has a certain appeal," he
admitted, a teasing light in his eyes. "But you're right. I guess we
shouldn't rush things, eh? As unlikely as it might be, we'll play it safe."

Overwhelming tenderness filled him as he brushed his fingers across her
cheek. She answered him with a smile and a nod, then buried her face in the
crook of his neck as he gathered her close.

Resting his chin on the top of her head, Nick tightened his arms around
her, his grin slowly fading. They might laugh and joke about it, but the
truth was that neither of them were as secure in the moment as they might
wish to appear. Thanks to the mysterious amulet, they had been granted a
miracle of sorts, one that gave him a bittersweet taste of the mortality he
so desperately craved. But he had no idea how far they could go or how long
it might last. Neither did he know what the eventual consequences would be.
Nevertheless, he couldn't bring himself to turn away from this chance any
more than Natalie could.

Still, certain things had to be considered. Nothing would be gained by
ignoring them. Nick sighed in regret as reality insisted upon intruding.

"Nat, we have to talk about this."

Without looking up, she shook her head, her soft curls tickling his cheek.

"No," she said firmly. "I don't want to talk ... not now. I don't want to
question it or analyze it or wonder how long it will last or what will
happen if it doesn't. I just want to be with you."

"But, Nat --"

She placed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "I know we have to talk
about it eventually, Nick, but it doesn't have to be now. Let's just enjoy
this for a little while first, or for as long as we can. We'll deal with
whatever we have to when the time comes."

Natalie looked at him pleadingly as she unknowingly echoed his earlier
thoughts. "I'm so tired of denying what I feel for you, Nick, and I'm tired
of worrying about what might or might not happen. For whatever reason,
we've been given a chance that neither of us believed possible. Let's not
turn away from it just because we don't understand it."

He stared at her silently, a faint frown touching his face as he weighed
everything she'd said. Her earnest expression dissolved into a wry grin. "I
know what you're thinking," she accused. "You're thinking, 'Who are you,
and what have you done with Natalie Lambert?' " She laughed
self-consciously, then quickly sobered. "We will talk, Nick ... soon, I
promise. You know me. I'm a slave to scientific curiosity. But until then
... for now ... let's just be together. Please?" She whispered the last.

Slowly, he nodded. In all honesty, he was relieved, for at this moment he
was more content than he could ever remember feeling. He wanted to enjoy it
for as long as possible.

But though he struggled valiantly to remain awake, determined to savor
their precious time together, in the end exhaustion won out. With Natalie
cradled in his arms, Nick eventually closed his eyes and drifted off to
sleep.


++++++++++


The first thing Nick noticed when he awoke was that the cursed craving was
gone. A blessed sense of peace filled him. He was hungry, yes, but it was
nothing out of the ordinary. The black shroud that had covered him these
past few weeks seemed to have vanished.

The second thing he realized, once he'd gotten past his initial elation,
was that he'd overslept and was running late for his shift. He wanted to
speak to Natalie, needed that contact to reassure himself she was all
right, but a quick call to her apartment went unanswered. Only her machine
picked up.

Descending the stairs, Nick saw the flashing light on his own answering
machine and found that Natalie had left him a message.

"Nick ... I guess you're still sleeping. Look ... we need to talk, but I've
been called in early to cover for someone who went home sick. The thing is,
I have to know ... to be sure --" Her voice broke off as she sighed in
frustration. "This is crazy, I can't talk about it like this. I know we
agreed to keep our distance until we figured out what was happening, but I
need to talk to you and I can't do it over the phone. I think ... I'm
hoping you know why. I'll keep my promise, Nick, but we have to meet. I
really don't think it should be at work, so as soon as I can, I'm going
home. Figure something out and let me know. Okay? Bye."

After feeding and dressing, Nick drove to the precinct, reliving their
incredible dream union in his head. Somehow, he made it to work unscathed,
but he wasn't certain what to do about Natalie's request.

When he entered the bullpen, however, he discovered any decision in that
regard would have to wait.

"Nick! There you are! I was about to send the posse out looking for you,"
Schanke said, hurrying over to him. "The uniforms picked up our friend
Benny about an hour ago. He's in the interrogation room, singing like a
canary. He wouldn't even wait for a lawyer to get here."

With a Herculean effort, Nick dragged his thoughts away from Natalie and
the day they'd shared to focus on what Schanke was telling him.

"According to Benny, he agreed to help transport some stolen artifacts for
Carter. It seems the street rumors were a little off. Carter didn't need
him to fence anything. He already had a buyer ready and waiting -- some
private collector loaded to the gills and not too picky about where he gets
his stuff. Carter just needed a go-between who could split town for a few
days to deliver the merchandise while *he* stayed here, looking as innocent
as a newborn babe."

"And Benny's agreed to testify against Carter?" Nick asked.

Schanke snorted. "Benny's agreed to dress up in a harem costume and dance
around the Eiffel Tower if it'll get him off the hook for a murder rap.
Apparently, he was so freaked out when Fenwick showed up and Carter started
bashing his brains in that he took off running and didn't stop until he was
waist deep in Lake Ontario. Oh, yeah, he'll testify ... trust me."

Nick grinned. "I do, strangely enough. So do we know where Carter is?"

"Uniforms left about twenty minutes ago to pick him up. In fact," Schanke
added, glancing over Nick's shoulder at the bullpen's entrance, "looks like
our homicidal friend is arriving as we speak."

As he turned to follow Schanke's gaze, Nick spotted two officers escorting
a handcuffed Carter through the swinging gate that separated the bullpen
from the reception area. Carter looked suitably cowed. Schanke waved the
men toward an empty interrogation room, then looked at Nick. "I love the
smell of confessions in the evening, don't you?" he asked, with a smirk.

"Just don't close your cases before they're solved, Schank," Nick reminded
him. "We still have to find out what he did with the stolen artifacts."

"Man, you just really know how to bring a guy down, doncha?" Schanke
complained with good-natured resignation, then grinned. "Okay, okay ...
since nothing less than a full confession will satisfy you, here's your
chance to show us all again what a hot-shot interrogator you are, pardner."
So saying, he headed for the hallway, leaving Nick to follow in his wake.

As it turned out, once confronted, it didn't take much effort to get a full
confession from Oswald Carter. It was obvious the man's conscience had been
working overtime. Apparently in an attempt to make up for its previous
absence, Nick thought sadly.

"I never intended to hurt Gerald," Carter said, as tears of remorse
streamed down his face. "He was so good to me, but I disappointed him. I
only wanted to prove that I could make it on my own. I simply needed
another chance." He looked pleadingly at Nick and Schanke. "You understand,
don't you? He wouldn't have been harmed by the theft. He was well insured.
No one would have been hurt, not really."

He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. "It was supposed to be
... so simple. The first theft, and then this one. That's all I needed." He
raised his head, his high-pitched voice wavering as he stared blindly at
the wall. "He wasn't supposed to be there, but he came back early from his
trip to Winnipeg. I didn't even hear him enter the shop. He was just ...
there."

Carter looked down at his hands, spread flat on the table in front of him,
studying them as if they belonged to someone else entirely. "I was holding
an urn ... from the Etruscan collection. I don't know why, but I swung it
at him, and he fell to his knees. It didn't knock him out. I suppose I
didn't hit him hard enough for that. I didn't really want to hurt him, you
see.

"But then he looked up at me with such disappointment in his eyes ... such
disbelief. I simply couldn't bear it." Carter bowed his head again,
overcome with emotion, then looked up with a resigned expression. "I don't
remember hitting him again, but the next thing I knew, Gerald was on the
floor and there was so much blood. I was holding one of the statues. It was
covered in blood, too."

"What did you do with the statue, Mr. Carter?" Nick asked quietly.

Carter regarded him with a helpless gaze. "I buried it. I couldn't sell it
... not with Gerald's blood on it. It wouldn't have been ... right."

Nick and Schanke exchanged a quick glance. They had everything they needed
for the moment, and they both knew Carter was very close to the edge.

"Mr. Carter, we're going to need you to tell us where you buried the statue
and to make an official statement for the record and sign it," Nick said.
"Can you do that for us?"

Slowly, Carter nodded. "Yes, I think so."

"Good. Wait here, and we'll send someone in." Nick motioned to Schanke as
he moved away from the table. It was time to brief the captain, something
they could do while Carter made his formal confession.

As they exited the interrogation room, Carter's voice followed them out the
door. "Thank you ... I'll just wait here then ..."

Out in the hallway, Schanke shook his head. "Man, oh, man ... you gotta
wonder how somebody gets to that point. It's not like he was some two-bit
crook who didn't know any better, for cryin' out loud. Even if Fenwick
hadn't walked in on him, how could he think taking that stuff wouldn't
matter?"

Nick sighed. "I don't know, Schank. It doesn't make sense to me, either.
We'd better go tell Cohen."

Before they could reach the captain's office, however, Nick and Schanke
found themselves sidetracked by an unexpected arrival.

"There you are!" Turning, Nick spotted Grace Balthazar heading toward them.
"I popped in a second ago and didn't see you, so I went to stick my head in
the break room." She stopped in front of them and waved a manila folder in
their faces. "Natalie asked me to deliver this for her. It's the final
report on the Fenwick autopsy. She said you might need it."

Nick felt like a man with his foot caught in the tracks in front of an
oncoming train. Considering the circumstances surrounding his last
encounter with Grace, he wasn't sure how to respond, and he was more than a
little leery of what she might say.

With good cause, it seemed.

"You left the morgue in such a hurry last night, Detective, I didn't get a
chance to apologize," she said, a sly hint of mischief shining in her eyes.

Schanke's ears perked up. "Apologize? For what?" he asked, his eyes darting
back and forth from Grace's face to Nick's.

Before Nick could think of a plausible lie, Grace laughed. "I think I
almost ruined a little surprise he had planned for Natalie," she said. "But
after seeing her tonight, I'm guessing things went okay."

Grace shot Nick a smug look. Apparently, she'd recovered just fine from her
embarrassment of the previous evening.

"Oh, yeah?" Schanke's eyes narrowed as he turned a speculative gaze on his
partner. "Nat told me you booked off early because you had some unexpected
'personal business' that came up last night. Is that what she was talking
about?"

"No, it isn't," Nick said firmly, shifting position just enough to keep
Schanke from catching the warning glare he directed at Grace. "That was
something else. It's just that Nat's birthday is coming up in a month or
so, and I thought I'd ask Grace if she knew anything she might like. But I
had to change my plans since Grace isn't so good at keeping secrets. It's
something she could stand to work on," he added pointedly.

Unabashed, Grace smiled as she gave him a conspiratorial wink. "I'll see
what I can do if the situation ever comes up again," she promised, without
the slightest sign of repentance. "In the meantime, don't be such a
stranger around the morgue, Detective." She turned to include Schanke in
her smile. "I mean ... Detectives."

So saying, she passed the autopsy report to a frowning Nick and, with an airy 
wave, departed.

Schanke stared after her. "Don't look now, partner, but I think she was
flirting with you." Glancing at Nick, he grinned. "Better not let Natalie
catch her doing that, eh?"

"Schank," Nick warned, in no mood to be teased.

Schanke held up his hands. "Okay, okay ... don't get all hot and bothered
on me! Jeez, I was just kidding around!" He shrugged. "After all, everybody
knows you and Nat are just friends."

Then, with a look that proclaimed himself innocent of any ulterior motives,
Schanke brushed some invisible lint from his jacket and sauntered off to
the captain's office.


++++++++++


A short time later, Nick climbed from the Caddie and slammed the car door,
not even flinching when the extra force he'd used rattled the windows of
his beloved vehicle. His mind was on other things -- namely, the person
he'd come here to meet.

Natalie, true to the message she'd left on his answering machine, had cut
short her work shift. Nick had followed her lead, risking Cohen's wrath by
booking off early for the second night in a row. Now, he was having second
thoughts. As much as he wanted to see Natalie, he couldn't rid himself of
the nagging fear that talking to her face-to-face could again put her in
danger.

Since he had awakened, there had been no sign of the powerful craving that
had almost driven him to take her life. By loving Natalie in the dream, it
was as if he'd finally satisfied the need to possess her, even though it
hadn't been in the vampire fashion. But what if it flared up again without
warning? What if, when he finally laid eyes on her, it consumed him before
he had time to get away?

Clenching his jaw, Nick struggled to shore up his waning resolve. If they
had even a small chance of making this work, then he had to trust Natalie
when she said she'd be prepared. Still, he had further stacked the deck
against himself by insisting that this first meeting take place in public.
The chosen setting was Eaton Centre, crowded with people on a Saturday
night. There, he could approach her from a distance, taking his time,
carefully monitoring his reaction to her presence.

There, she would also be free to hide among the other mortals at the first
hint of danger. He counted on the vampire's sense of self-preservation to
keep it from pursuing her into the crowd.

Nevertheless, he recalled, with a sinking feeling, how overpowering the
hunger had been following the dream in which he'd stood outside her
apartment watching her disrobe. How much harder would it be to control now,
after he'd actually made love to her?

*If* he'd made love to her. Even now, he couldn't quite believe it. When
he'd called her before leaving the precinct, neither of them had directly
mentioned the dream. They couldn't. It was far too intimate ... too
overwhelming a thing ... to talk about over the phone.

And so, as he made his way to the appointed meeting place, Nick was left to
wonder if his mind was even now playing tricks on him. Would Natalie be
there? Or would it all prove to be nothing more than a cruel delusion, a
manifestation of madness brought on by a hunger he couldn't defeat?

As it turned out, he didn't have long to wonder, for there, waiting next to
the fountain beneath Eaton Centre's vast glass-roofed atrium, was Natalie.
She stood, isolated among a throng of people.

Pushing aside his reservations, Nick slowly made his way down to the lower
level. Any lingering doubts he'd had disappeared the instant their eyes met
and he saw the silent acknowledgment in her gaze. He stopped barely three
feet away from her.

When Natalie spoke, there was an uncharacteristic note of wonder coloring
her voice. "It happened, didn't it?" she said, shaking her head in
astonishment. "It wasn't just some wild fantasy I dreamed up."

Nick felt almost lightheaded. In ten seconds flat, he'd gone from nervous
apprehension to guarded elation. Though close enough now to be dazzled by
her blood scent, there was no hint of the dark craving that had made his
life a living hell. Even the hunger that was a constant part of his
existence seemed strangely muted.

"I'm not sure what it was," he answered slowly, "but it did happen." He
stared at her, half afraid she might vanish before his eyes. "Nat ..."

Before he could finish, a gray-haired woman laden with shopping bags
brushed against his shoulder and moved between them. Though she breezed
past without a glance in either direction, the sudden interruption reminded
Nick just how public a place he had chosen for their meeting.

It apparently had the same effect on Natalie. Glancing around quickly, she
moved closer. "Nick, we can't talk about this here, any more than we could
talk about it over the phone." She paused, searching his face with a
worried gaze. "How do you feel?"

He knew what she meant, of course. Still, almost giddy now with relief, he
couldn't help teasing her. "Shouldn't that be my line?" At her blank look,
he added helpfully, "You know ... after?"

Her mouth fell open, and his eyes twinkled as they lingered on her lips.
"Careful," he warned, "or I might take that as an invitation."

Natalie made a strangled noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh, then
shook her head in bemused amazement. "Okay, now it's my turn. Who are you,
and what have you done with Nick?" She studied him through narrowed eyes.
"On second thought, forget my first question. I think you just answered it.
Obviously, you're feeling pretty cocky."

Nick grinned unrepentantly. "Among other things."

An answering grin tugged at Natalie's mouth. "Oh, my ... I think I'm going
to *like* this side of you," she told him, her voice brimming with
suppressed laughter.

He leaned in until his lips almost touched her ear. "If you like this," he
murmured suggestively, "wait until I show you the rest."

This time she did laugh out loud. Then, sobering a bit, though still
smiling, she gazed up at him. "What say we blow this joint, Detective, and
go somewhere a little more private?" she suggested softly. Her tone was
light, but her eyes hinted otherwise.

For Nick, it was enough to bring reality crashing down.

"Nat ... I don't think that's a good idea. Just because ... I mean, we
can't assume --"

"That we can do in real life what we did ... this afternoon?" she
interrupted, lowering her voice as she checked to make sure no one would
overhear. "I know that, Nick. I'm not suggesting we do anything crazy. I
just want to be someplace where we don't have to worry about censoring
everything we say."

Despite her reassurances, he could sense her frustration. It was almost as
great as his own. But he wouldn't risk her life by moving too fast. As much
as he wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to take her in his arms and make her
his again, it couldn't happen -- not outside the dream world they shared. A
brief caress, a tender kiss were all he could dare in their present
circumstances, and those circumstances might never change. He understood
that, but did she?

It was almost as if she'd read his mind.

"Nick, please ... it's all right," she said, gazing at him earnestly. "I
won't push you, I promise. I got a pretty good idea the other night of what
could happen if I did, and believe it or not, I don't have a death wish."
She reached out to him, as if she feared her acknowledgment of the
vampire's threat might cause him to pull away. He responded, closing his
hand around hers. "I won't lie to you, Nick. Deep down, I don't believe you
could ever hurt me. But, no matter what happens, I promise I won't take any
foolish chances."

She hesitated a moment, then raised her chin, reluctant determination
lighting her eyes. "Nick, if you're really worried, we don't have to ... do
... anything -- dreams or no dreams. It won't change how I feel about you.
I know I said I wanted to take advantage of the chance to be with you, but
if you have any doubts, you have to tell me. We have to be honest with each
other."

Gazing down at her hand nestled so trustingly in his, Nick realized she was
right. He was afraid, and he did have doubts. And if he were to be entirely
honest, it wasn't only because he was worried about hurting her. He was
also afraid of being hurt himself. How many times had he dared to hope,
only to have those hopes come crashing down around him?

But in his heart, he knew the decision had been made a long time ago, when
he'd looked into the eyes of a stranger and accepted her offer of help. If
he had known then how much she would come to mean to him, would he have
made the same choice?

Raising his head to meet her gaze, he realized the question was an exercise
in futility, for he could never know the answer. For better or worse, the
choice he'd made then dictated the choice he made now.

Wanting desperately to take her in his arms, but ever conscious of the
mortals around them, he contented himself with depositing a soft kiss on
her hand. "You're not backing out on me, are you, Nat?" he asked gravely.

For a split second, her eyes widened in surprise, then filled with tears.
She bit her lip and shook her head, clearly not trusting herself to speak.
Emitting a shaky laugh, she instead turned to focus on the nearby fountain,
fighting to rein in her emotions before they could get the best of her.

No more anxious than Natalie to attract attention, Nick decided a change of
subject might help.

He squeezed her hand. "Before I forget, I have a bone to pick with you," he
said, his tone gently chiding. "What's with sending Grace over to the
precinct? Do you know how close she came to telling Schanke what she
*thought* she'd walked in on?"

As Nick stepped back and folded his arms, concealing a smile behind a stern
look, Natalie did an abrupt about-face.

"Wait a minute," she bristled. "You're the one who said I couldn't come
near you until you gave the all-clear sign, remember? You needed the
report, Grace was there, she volunteered -- end of story. Besides, she
won't say anything. And if she had a little fun at our expense, I'd say
it's the least we owe her, under the circumstances."

Nick merely looked at her, bringing a reluctant smile to Natalie's lips.
"Oh, all right," she conceded. "The truth is she wouldn't stop teasing me
about it. It was either kill her or send her after you."

"Aah," Nick replied, as if that explained everything. "In that case, you
made the right decision. I forgive you."

Natalie smirked, rolling her eyes. "Gee, thanks. Lucky for you, you're so
magnanimous, or I might have been forced to use this on you," she said
dryly, pointing to the pocket of her jacket where a slight bulge resided.

" 'This'?" he questioned, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Just a little something in case you were right and things had gotten out
of hand. I told you I'd be prepared, remember?"

He eyed the pocket warily. "What is it?"

Lips pursed, Natalie shook her head. "Sorry. Professional secret, and one
not to be revealed except under dire circumstances. But trust me ... you
wouldn't have liked it," she told him, a teasing glint in her eye.

With his gaze still lingering on the pocket, Nick almost missed her question.

"Nick ... what are we going to do about the amulet?"

He looked up to find her regarding him soberly and hesitated. He'd already
given the question considerable thought, and he knew Natalie wouldn't be
entirely comfortable with his decision. He'd taken something that wasn't
his, for selfish reasons, and though it wouldn't be easy to solve the
mystery behind it, he hadn't given up hope that it might be the key to
curing his condition. That, ultimately, it would somehow banish the vampire
completely and allow him to become human again.

But in the meantime, if having the amulet granted him some small degree of
mortality, that alone was reason enough to keep it. If it could also allow
him to love Natalie as only a mortal man could, and in return, calm the
hunger during his waking hours, then he would never let it go.

"It's going to stay right where it is, Nat. With me."

Natalie was quiet for several moments, then sighed. "I'd be lying if I said
I didn't have mixed feelings about this, Nick. The amulet doesn't belong to
us, and the fact that we're benefiting from it makes it worse. But if we do
the right thing and give it back, then this whole thing becomespretty
pointless, doesn't it? And as much as I hate to admit it, when I think
about the alternative, I can't seem to manage more than a tiny twinge of
guilt."

Nick offered her a crooked grin. "Well, if it helps any, I've arranged for
a discreet payment to be made to Fenwick's estate. His heirs will get that,
along with the rest of the recovered items."

Relief and satisfaction filled Natalie's eyes. "It does," she said softly,
smiling at him in approval. "Thank you." Then, abruptly, she frowned. "Wait
a minute. Recovered items? Nick ... you found the missing artifacts?"

He nodded. "Carter was the killer, just like we thought. He confessed
earlier tonight and gave us the name of the collector who bought the stolen
merchandise. He never planned on killing anyone, but Fenwick caught him
stealing the stuff." Nick shook his head. "It's crazy, Nat. They were
friends, and look how it ended."

"It is hard to understand," she agreed. "But at least you and Schanke
solved the case, and Fenwick's family can rest a little easier. It's better
than never knowing. But Nick ... what about Schanke? The case will
eventually go to trial. Won't he notice if the amulet isn't with the rest
of the evidence?"

When he glanced away instead of answering, comprehension flashed across
Natalie's face. "Oh, Nick, tell me you didn't."

"I had to, Nat," he said, instantly defensive. "It was the only way I could
be sure he wouldn't say anything."

She dropped her head and groaned. "Now *that* I really *do* feel guilty
about," she mumbled.

"I know. Me, too," he admitted. "But ..." He shrugged, not certain what
else he could say. It wasn't the first time he'd hypnotized his partner
into forgetting, and it probably wouldn't be the last. And if it allowed
him to stay in Toronto and have some kind of life with Natalie while they
searched for a cure, it seemed a small enough price.

If Schanke knew the truth, Nick suspected he would agree.

Natalie looked up. "So what do we do now?"

"Now?" Nick shrugged again. "Now, we take it slowly. We see what happens.
We make the most of the time we have together. And we *don't* do anything
that risks your life," he added firmly.

Natalie smiled softly. "I can live with that ... I think."

They gazed silently at each other, forgetting the bustling crowds around
them, until the excited squeal of a child broke the spell. Together, they
turned to watch as a father swung his happy toddler high in the air before
settling him securely on his shoulders. The laughing woman at their side
reached up to touch the youngster's hand as it rested on his father's head,
clearly reminding him to hold on.

Nick smiled. For the first time in a long time, the sight of a happy family
prompted more than feelings of wistful envy. He didn't know if all the
secrets of the amulet would ever be revealed, or what it might mean for him
... for them ... if they were. But like Natalie, it was enough for him now
just to know the hope was there.

One day, he might be forced to leave Toronto, to walk away and give Natalie
the freedom to live a life he couldn't offer. But that day had yet to come.
For now, there was hope -- for himself, for the future -- and he was more
than content with that. For in the end, that's all any of them had.

Turning, Nick stared down at the woman beside him, and memories flashed
with dizzying speed across his mind's eye -- Natalie, trying not to laugh
as he choked down a protein shake; Natalie, gazing at him with hope and
determination; Natalie, eyes smoldering with unspoken desire; Natalie, lost
in the throes of passion as she writhed beneath him.

Natalie, nestled sweetly in his arms -- her face flushed with the afterglow
of their joining, her gaze warm and trusting and full of love. Love ... for
him.

He ached to hold her.

"C'mon," he said, taking her hand as he led her toward the escalator.

"*Finally* he listens," she complained to the world at large. "So where are
we going, your place or mine?"

"Yours," he told her, glancing back over his shoulder. "I'm going to drop
you off there on my way home."

She stopped dead. "What? First thing, Nick, I have my car here, so you
don't have to drop me anywhere. Second thing, what do you mean on your way
home? We have things to talk about."

Gazing down at her, he fought back a smile. "They'll have to wait, I'm
afraid," he said solemnly. "I have an important date."

"A date?" Her eyes narrowed. "Who with?"

The smile won out. "My pillow," he whispered, eyes dancing in anticipation.
"Didn't I ever tell you vampires need lots of sleep?"

Then, for what he promised himself would be the only time, Nick took a risk
he'd sworn not to take. Reaching out, he gathered a stunned Natalie into
his arms, pressing his lips to hers in a lingering kiss of faith, promise
and hope for the future.

And if the patrons of Eaton Centre thought it odd to see such a public
embrace, no one was ill-mannered enough to comment. Instead, they merely
smiled, quietly sidestepped the pair, and continued on their way.

=======
Finis


If you're still reading, I sincerely hope you enjoyed the story. Again,
many thanks to Nancy Kaminski, Kathy Whelton and Jody Aldred. But most of
all ... thanks, Catharine!

Note: For more information about the Etruscan civilization and the mystery
surrounding its origins and undecoded language, check out "The Etruscans,"
by Raymond Bloch, translated from the French by James Hogarth.


Comments, complaints and lavish words of praise to:
"Cindy Ingram" <cgi271@airmail.net>
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My FK fiction page:
http://people.mn.mediaone.net/nancykam/cific.html
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