DO YOU REMEMBER?
by Mary-Anne O’Malley

I rolled my eyes at Nat as he pretended to gag at the sight of the vegetables I was chopping. Typical Nat, pretending to be disgusted by healthy food. I was making a blood stew for dinner for Abby and me. I wasn’t going to force him to eat any of it; Nat knew that, he just liked being an ass sometimes. Okay, most of the time.

I glanced over at him, and he pretended to spew vomit across the floor. For extra effect, he added sound to his little act. He could be such a twelve-year-old sometimes. Most people think that because Nat is a demon, he is inherently evil, while in reality he’s only inherently annoying. I chucked a piece of carrot at his head. He shrieked, then snapped his fingers and disappeared in a cloud of smoke. He loved doing his vanishing act.

Nat had been my best friend for over a hundred years. He was practically my brother. Our foster mother, Lady Sarah, had a fondness for supernatural creatures, and she had taken both of us into her care around the same time. I was a young, freshly turned vampire, and Nat had just escaped a brutal master.

Because demons weren’t recognized as citizens under the law until the 1890s, up until that time, instead of having basic rights they were usually enslaved and abused. Nat had escaped just such a situation, and ended up in Sarah’s large Belfast home with a dozen other non-human creatures. Why he chose me to torment for the next hundred years, I don’t know. Even in the present day, it is rare for a vampire to have a demon as a best friend, as vampires and demons tend to move in distinctly separate social circles.

The existence of supernatural creatures, including vampires, has been known since before Jesus died on the cross. In fact, some people believe that vampires are descendants of the disciples who drank Jesus’s blood in the form of communion wine. That’s just silly superstition, though; vampires predate Christianity. For that matter, vampires predate humanity.

Vampires are not uncommon among supernatural creatures, but we are vastly outnumbered by mages and witches. Still, we are respected among all people, supernatural or otherwise. Vampires have superhuman speed and strength, as well as the power to heal rapidly, attributes that have saved my and Abby’s lives on countless occasions. Nat also saved our lives a few times, something he never lets Abby forget.

I was slicing a potato when Nat reappeared in the kitchen. He grimaced.

“I had hoped that leaving Ireland meant never again having to smell another potato, but you damn Irish, you just love…”

I tuned him out as I began to wonder where Abby was. She was supposed to have gotten off work at the hospital three hours earlier, but wasn’t home yet. I knew she was going to stop on the way home to pick up some paper towels, but that shouldn’t have taken her three hours.

I felt an old familiar dread rising in my stomach, a cold, gripping feeling that had been a constant during the first few years of my relationship with Abby. It bubbled up my throat, and I closed my eyes against the fear—fear that something had happened to Abby, fear that someone saw us kiss or saw me hold her hand. Fear that Abby might be fighting for her life because she chose to love me and I chose to love her.

I pushed the fear away. This wasn’t a traditional Catholic village in nineteen-twenties Spain or a Nazi-occupied town in nineteen-forties Germany. This was the liberal town of Portland, Oregon. No one was going to try to harm Abby here. I heard Nat turn on the TV on as I continued cutting vegetables. A few moments later, I heard Abby as she burst into the house.

“I FUCKING HATE FUCKING VAMPIRES!”

Abby slammed the door behind her and stomped into the living room, and I glanced at her from the kitchen doorway. Her black hair was disheveled, and her green eyes flashed with emotion. She looked different—almost frazzled, or maybe even nervous.

Nat quickly turned the TV off and went over to Abby. I rolled my eyes; I knew exactly what Nat would do next. His favorite pastime was teasing Abby. He’d been doing it for a hundred years, and I doubted he’d ever find it tiring.

“I hate to be the one to deliver this earth-shattering news, but you are, in fact, a vampire, Abigail,” Nat chided in a mocking tone.

Abby’s green eyes grew darker as she approached the pint-sized demon. At three feet tall, he should have known better than to mock a thousand year old vampire. But Nat had a terrible sense of humor that was based on intense ridicule and crippling sarcasm. At five feet ten inches, Abby towered over the tiny demon, and now she was glaring at him, her fists clenched.

“What did you say, Nat? I don’t think I heard you,” Abby said through gritted teeth.

“Maybe you should have your hearing checked, Abby. You are a vampire. But you’re also very old vampire. Maybe you’re going senile. It would explain the recent decline in your intellect and—”

“Why you little…”Abby roared at Nat as she lunged down at him.

He snapped his fingers and disappeared, then reappeared three feet behind Abby.

Abby hesitated when she realized Nate had disappeared. Behind her, Nat giggled, and Abby spun around and lunged for him again.

He snapped his fingers and disappeared, only to reappear behind her again.

I watched in amusement as Abby, a vampire with superhuman powers of agility and speed, chased a giggling demon around the room. After a few minutes, Abby got frustrated and determinedly dove toward the spot where Nat had just appeared. She caught the slippery little guy’s arm and quickly hoisted him up until he was dangling three feet above the floor. Nat struggled in her grip. He couldn’t vanish when anyone was touching him.

Abby glared at Nat, who didn’t look too frightened even though he was dangling from the fist of an irate vampire. She gave him a shake. “You, little demon, need to be taught to respect a ten century old vampire who could literally consume you whole.”

“I thought you hated vampires, so why should I respect them?” Nat retorted.

“I could crush your skull with my pinkie finger.” Abby said, her eyes dark with anger.

“True. But you being terrifying doesn’t necessarily mean I have to respect you,” Nat said flippantly.

Abby’s eyes darkened further, and her lips curled back as her fangs descended. She let out a vicious roar, a roar that was usually reserved for intimidating mobs of people. It was so loud and terrifying, I had seen it stop violent hordes in their tracks.

Nat didn’t seem particularly impressed by it.

“Given that you vampires are composed mostly of blood, I find the large amount of saliva you seem to produce very disturbing.” Nat made a show of wiping his face.

That goddamn demon was going for the Oscar for Condescending Assholery tonight.

“It’s a good thing little pipsqueak demons like you don’t have blood,” Abby raised Nat up until they were eye to eye, “or you would soon be drained of it.”

“Oh, we both know you prefer the blood of your tasty little blonde over there.” Nat gestured in my direction.

Abby’s eyes followed his movement, and her eyes found mine. Her eyes widened when she saw me. She apparently hadn’t realized I’d been watching them from the kitchen.

I raised an eyebrow and gave her a brief wave. “Hey, babe.”

“Oh umm… Hey, sweetheart. …Ummm… How was your day?” Momentarily forgotten, Nat continued to dangle from Abby’s hand.

“It was fine. Met a goblin. She was fucking weird. Met another goblin. He was even fucking weirder,” I replied.

“Goblins are always strange little creatures.”

“So, how was your day, babe? You seem a little out of sorts,” I said, watching Nat struggling to get away.

He was now biting Abby’s hand in hopes of freeing himself, but she didn’t seem to notice. Vampires become more impervious to pain as they age.

“It was okay. A little stressful, I guess. Some stupid vampire hit me with his car, then told me to get over it because we were both vampires and I should cut him some slack. I mean, it didn’t physically hurt, but I still don’t enjoying being hit by large chunks of metal. He could have at least apologized,” she said with a frown.

That was one the many things I loved about Abby. One moment she would be threatening bodily harm, and the next she would be frowning because her feelings were hurt. Feelings meant a lot to Abby. She had known vampires who forgot to feel as they aged. They became indifferent to the beauty of smile, the radiant sound of laughter, and the comfort of just holding someone’s hand.

Abby was terrified that she would forget how to feel, and so she sometimes exaggerated her feelings. That was fine with me. I loved making her smile, holding her hand, and kissing the tip of her nose. In the right circumstances, a kiss on the tip of Abby’s nose could make that thousand year old vampire blush like a schoolgirl.

“That driver was just an ass wipe, babe. Don’t let him bother you. It’s really not worth it.”

My eyes skimmed the length of Abby’s body until they met her gaze. I raised an eyebrow, and Abby dropped Nat, who snapped his fingers and disappeared before he even hit the floor. He didn’t reappear anywhere else in the room, so he had probably gone home.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t let annoying stuff like that affect me. I shouldn’t have gone off on Nat. He didn’t really deserve it. I’m…I’m just a little jumpy today.” Abby crossed the room and stopped a few inches in front of me, then gazed into my eyes.

I smiled. “Sweetheart, we both know Nat’s an asshole who likes to rile people up. We also both know you could never really do him any permanent harm, because he’s my best friend.”

Abby sighed. “Why you ever befriended that little demon spawn is beyond me.”

I studied her for a moment. Her demeanor was casual enough, but her left hand was behind her back, resting on the left cheek of her jean-clad ass. I had spent enough time looking at her ass to know that she usually didn’t park her hand there.

“You okay, Abby? You seem a little tense.”

“I’m fine. Just a long day.” She quickly moved her hand from her ass and closely examined her fingernails.

“Speaking of your day, where were you? I thought you were getting off work early tonight.

She shrugged. “I had a few errands to run.”

“Did they include picking up the paper towels we need?” I turned and went back over to the counter, and began to chop more carrots for the blood stew.

“I’m a thousand year old vampire. I don’t dabble in trivial domestic pursuits,” Abby retorted.

“In other words, you forgot.” It was a statement, not a question, but I softened it by following up with a smile.

“Sorry. I’ll get them tomorrow.”

“At a thousand years old, I would expect you to have a better memory.” I picked up another carrot and focused on my chopping.

I heard Abby’s light footsteps as she approached me. She gently moved my long hair off my right shoulder and exposed the skin of my neck and collarbone which was not covered by my tank top. Her hands slid around my waist as she placed butterfly kisses one my neck. I set the knife down on the counter, and tilted my head to give her better access. She worked her way up my neck with light touches of her lips, her warm breath making me shiver.

“You know, I can still vividly remember the moment I first saw you, all those years ago. I don’t think I could ever forget a single detail,” Abby whispered, then she gently licked the shell of my ear.

I shuddered as her hands slipped under my top and her fingers splayed over my stomach. Almost a hundred years with Abby, and just her slightest touch could still send my pulse racing.

“You do?” I squeaked as her fingers started tracing the contours of my stomach. I could feel her lips move as Abby smiled against my neck.

“I fell in love from across the room. You looked like the horizon—a beauty I would chase forever, a beauty I would never tire of. Green eyes, blond hair, and a freckled smile captured my heart,” Abby said in a whisper, her hot breath making me shiver yet again. “Do you remember when we first met?”

I closed my eyes and recalled that day almost a hundred years ago.

I chuckled politely as Sir McArthur made yet another terrible jest about England. Sir McArthur roared with laughter at his own joke. When he had composed himself, he took another gulp of his drink and then proceeded to tell me one of his endless supply of stories about a fox hunt. The more he drank, the more pronounced his Irish accent became.

Nat had promised me this would be an exciting night in the volatile capital, Dublin. I had attended the party with that understanding. In fact, it was a gathering of Irish rebels celebrating All Hallows Eve with a night of drinking and dance, and discussions about rebellion and revolution. Even Maude Gonne, the famous Irish Rebel vampire, was in attendance. Nat had come with me, but had already disappeared with his current love interest.

I had attended because I anticipated a night of adventure and action. Instead I had spent an interminable hour listening to this drunk mage McArthur make terrible jokes about England. Born in Ireland, I held no true love for England, but if he was going to insult the English, at least he could have the decency to do it well.

“…and the thhhe…damn Englishman…he…he…tried twice to shoot the fox…but butttttt…he missed and he theeeennnnnn he then fell off his horse…and landed on his backside in a creek. See…seeeeee the damn English can’t…can’t even shoooot a fox properly.” McArthur threw his head back and roared with laughter.

I smiled politely and tried to think of an acceptable way to escape.

“Buttt us Irishmen… We…I can shoot any damn fox. I…I…cannnn shoot him dead.” McArthur looked at me with bloodshot eyes.

“I don’t doubt your skill,” I replied, deliberately avoiding his eyes.

“I…I…have skills in other areas, tooooooo.” He winked. “I know what woooomen like and—”

Mercifully, McArthur was interrupted by a voice coming from behind me.

“Hello, Lord McArthur. I’m so glad I found you. I just saw your wife, and she’s looking for you. She seemed about ready to cast a seeking spell, so I’d go find her if I were you,” the distinctly Irish voice said.

McArthur’s eyes widened at the mention of his wife. He gave me a sheepish grin, said goodbye, kissed my hand for far too long, and then scurried off to find his wife.

After he’d departed, I turned around to look at the person who had saved me. My gaze met green eyes that were the color of a frosted field of grass in the early morning. The woman was stunning. Long dark hair and full lips complemented an angular facial structure with high cheekbones and a defined jaw line. An emerald dress which went very nicely with her eyes, showed off her hourglass figure. My eyes went back to her face just as she bit her lip and revealed perfect white teeth.

“I hope you don’t mind that I got rid of McArthur. You didn’t exactly seem to be enjoying his company,” she said after a moment. Her voice had a rich Irish accent and a smooth, throaty tone that sent a shiver down my spine.

“I didn’t need to be rescued. I could have handled it myself,” I replied tartly.

One eyebrow rose in amusement, and the woman’s lips twitched into a small smirk. “I wasn’t rescuing you, I was rescuing him.”

“Oh?”

“You seemed to be about ten seconds away from cutting off his member and sticking it down his throat. And while he does have terrible manners, terrible manners are not yet punishable by death,” she observed, her green eyes flashing in amusement. “Especially not such a death.”

“I wasn’t planning on killing him. I was just considering a little non-lethal dismemberment. Nothing to be concerned about, really.”

The woman actually laughed at that, a rich, throaty sound that sounded pleasantly in my ears.

“I’ve always enjoyed a good dismemberment myself. Glad I’m not the only vampire that doesn’t mind reverting to medieval torture techniques,” she said with a grin.

“How interesting,” I replied neutrally. “You seem more like the type of vampire who would write sonnets about flowers and midmorning dew.”

“I do find flowers quite beautiful, but dismemberment and torture are so much more exciting. However, if you want me to write a sonnet about you, I certainly won’t say no,” she said with a seductive smile.

I opened my mouth to reply, but was forestalled by the approach of Mr. Collins.

He bowed in our direction, and then addressed himself to me. “Miss Waters, I was wondering whether you might permit me the honor of the next dance.”

I sighed as I realized the evening would most likely be filled with men asking me to dance and attempting to make their lives sound interesting. This Irish rebel party was turning out to be quite dull. My eyes left Mr. Collins and found frosted green eyes boring into mine.

“Mr. Collins, I would—”, I began.

“Actually, Mr. Collins, Miss Waters has accepted a prior invitation,” the handsome woman said as she stepped closer and slid an arm around my waist. Her touch was light but firm, almost possessive.

Mr. Collins studied us for a moment, looking at me, then the woman, then studying her arm around my waist.

“Ah, Miss Abigail Blake. Given your advanced age, I guess it makes sense that you would want to taste a different sort of novelty now and again.” Mr. Collins’ tone was mocking, almost insulting.

“Age has nothing to do with it. I just know a quality dish when I see one,” the woman, Abigail Blake, replied.

My fists clenched at them cavalierly discussing me as if I was a pastry or a meat pie. I was not some dish for either of them to sample as they pleased.

“Be careful, Abigail. People are often inclined to react violently toward anything they consider ‘different.’ Beware your wandering eye.” Mr. Collins punctuated his warning with a glare, then spun on his heel and strode away.

As soon as he was had disappeared into the throng, I turned and slapped Abigail Blake as hard as I could. I have no doubt she could have easily stopped me, but she didn’t even make the attempt. I pulled my hand back to slap her again, but this time she caught my arm and held it up above my head. She was so much stronger than I. Vampires get stronger as they age.

“You don’t get to strike me again.” She took a step closer. “I allowed it once because I deserved it, but no more,” Abigail said sternly.

Her eyes bored into mine, and I was acutely aware of our close proximity. Our faces were mere inches apart, and I could see a few small freckles on her nose. My gaze dropped to her lips. They were full, and set in a grim line. Maybe a taste wouldn’t be entirely unpleasant.

The spell was broken when she released my arm. She didn’t step back, though, and I could feel her breath mingle with mine.

“I’m not some object. I’m not a ‘meal’ or ‘dish’ that you can sample when it suits your pleasure,” I said through gritted teeth.

Her eyes moved to my lips as I spoke, and they had turned a shade darker by the time I had finished.

“I…I know you are not an object, and I apologize for that exchange. Mr. Collins and I hold a mutual hatred for one another. The only thing he values in a woman is whether or not she will take him into her bed. And I just sunk to his level and treated you as an object. I felt shame the moment those words came out of my mouth. That is why I allowed you to hit me. I deserved it.”

Her verdant eyes were still on my lips, and her warm breath still mingled with mine.

My gaze dropped to her lips, and I wondered what they would feel like if she kissed me. Would she be rough and aggressive, or gentle and sweet? They looked so soft, so inviting. My fingers twitched as I envisioned tracing her lips with them. And how would it feel to taste her with my tongue?

“Will you dance with me? Please?” Abigail urged softly.

I wanted to dance with her. I craved it. It wasn’t rational, it wasn’t reasonable, it probably wasn’t smart; but at that moment, I wanted her more than anything, despite reason, despite rationality, despite tradition. Her smile, her little smirk, her laugh, her essence—all disarmed my caution and countermanded my common sense. I wanted her, and if she allowed it, I would have her.

“Yes.”

She gently took my hand and led me from the room, through some passageways and up some stairs before stopping in a storage room of some sort. I could hear the music from the band coming up through the floorboards.

“I used to live on this estate, and I know my way around. We’re directly above the ballroom, in the attic to be precise. Now, about that dance you promised me.”

She stepped closer and held out her hand, and I willingly gave her mine. Our fingers intertwined, she led me to the center of the floor, then put her other hand on my waist whilst my free hand went to her shoulder.

Even twenty years earlier, when I was turned at age twenty-four, I had been to a fair number of dances and had danced with many men. I enjoyed the music, but was somewhat indifferent to the actual dancing. The concept of moving in a strict pattern with another person had never really been enjoyable for me. After being turned, I had danced a few times, but with the same indifference. Apparently I’d never had the right partner.

Dancing with Abigail was incredibly different. I reveled in the push and pull of the movement. My skin ached for contact when the steps pulled us apart. Pleasure radiated through my body when we were chest to chest and hand in hand. It was exquisite torture to move away from her and then count the seconds until we were pulled back together again. My body tingled everywhere her fingertips grazed over me. I could feel her trembling as we moved so close that our lips were inches apart. As I studied the contours of her collarbone and chest, I could see that her breathing was labored.

Desire pooled between my legs as we danced and danced, again and again. I barely knew this woman. I had met her less than two hours ago, but every touch, every brush of her fingertips, every look into her eyes made me burn with wanting her. Made me want to sample her skin and capture her full lower lip gently between my teeth.

“Please tell me your first name, Miss Waters,” Abigail whispered as the steps brought us close.

My mouth went dry at the husky desire I heard in her voice, but I managed, “Caroline. Caroline Elizabeth Waters.”

“As Mr. Collins indicated, my name is Abigail Blake. Please call me Abby.”

We had stopped moving, and she had one arm around my waist whilst her free hand gently tucked an errant strand of hair behind my ear.

“Abby,” I murmured, mostly to myself, as I lifted my hand and brushed my thumb over her lower lip. It was exquisitely soft, and I once again wondered what it would taste like.

She caught my hand and pressed a kiss against my palm. “Caroline?”

“Yes?”

“Will you accompany me home tonight?”

“Yes.”

Her lips parted, and she smiled widely. She gently tugged me along as she led us out of the attic and down some stairs. Our hands were clasped together, and I found it impossible to look away from her. From the small swish of her hips as she walked in front of me to the curve of her chest and contours of her collarbones, she was mesmerizing, and I followed her in a daze of happy infatuation.

We waited beneath the portico outside as her chauffeur brought her Rolls Royce around. A servant handed us into the back seat and shut the car door behind us, and the air grew thick with tension. Once the automobile had begun moving, I glanced at her. Hunger was apparent in her eyes, and I whimpered as she unconsciously bit her lip. I had never felt such depths of desire. A fire was boiling my blood, and she seemed to be the only one capable of extinguishing it.

Abby leaned toward me until our lips were almost touching. “Caroline?”

“Yes?”

“May I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Part of me expected her to be rough and demanding. Expected her to crush her lips to mine. Expected her mouth to deny us both oxygen. Expected teeth, sharp nips, and an unforgiving tongue. But she was gentle. Her lips grazed mine with the smallest of kisses, then she paused with our lips millimeters apart and our ragged breath mingling. Her hand cradled my face, and her thumb gently caressed my cheek.

She kissed me again, this time with a bit more pressure. Her lips moved slowly over mine, and my eyes fluttered closed. She tilted her head, and her nose brushed mine as the angle changed. Our lips met again, and this time I was past wanting gentle.

My hand slid around her neck, and I kissed her hard. I took her lip between my teeth and bit it, then soothed the small ache with my tongue. Her mouth opened and when our tongues met, pleasure pulsed though me. She pushed me against the back of the car, and our breasts rubbed together through our dresses. The slight friction made the ache between my legs grow stronger.

I moaned as her mouth left mine and left a trail of hot, wet kisses down my neck. Her kissing and sucking the sensitive skin made my breathing more erratic, and my fingernails clawed at her back. My desire was already dripping down my thighs when I felt the tip of her fangs graze over my neck. I sensed a question in the movement.

“Yes,” I whispered.

I cried out as she broke the skin and started to gently suck. Slight pain and warm pleasure merged in euphoria as she tasted me, gently sucking at the puncture while I trembled helplessly. Her hand slid under my dress and along my inner thigh, and I moaned as her fingers skimmed across my center as she pushed my panties to one side. She paused again and waited for permission. I clung to her as I nodded my consent.

Her finger began to move in my wetness, teasing me mercilessly, stroking through my folds but ignoring the place where I most wanted her. Her free hand cupping my breast through the material of my dress, she rolled my erect nipple, twisting it and ratcheting up my desire all the more. I shivered at the sensations of her mouth on my neck, her hand on my breast, and her fingers teasing me.

“God…Abby…more. I need more.” I felt her smile against my neck as I begged for my release.

She shifted her hand and touched my throbbing clit with her thumb while she slid two fingers deep inside me, and I cried out. The pleasure was blinding, excruciatingly delicious and torturously wonderful. I came instantly, the world exploding in a mist of pleasure and sensation. My thighs trapped her hand as my center contracted around her fingers.

When my orgasm subsided, I collapsed against her. Her mouth left my neck, her hand withdrew, and she wrapped strong arms around me. When she kissed me, I tasted my blood on her lips. She held me tightly as I recovered from her attentions.

“Thank you for letting me make love to you, Caroline,” she whispered into my ear as her hand stroked my hair. I tried to think of something witty to say, but my mind was still recovering, so I just stated the truth.

“That was incredible.”

“I’m almost a thousand years old, I ought to be incredible.”

“No false modesty for you, huh?”

“No. I know just how incredible I am,” she said with a smile that made my insides melt.

I didn’t know it at that moment, but I would spend the next hundred years learning just how incredible she was.

I blinked twice as my thoughts returned to the present. Abby was pressed against my back, kissing my neck softly.

“Do you remember it, Caroline? Do you remember that day almost a hundred years ago?” Abby asked again.

I smiled. “Yes. I don’t think I could ever forget it.”

“You remember that we had to hide our relationship for so long. We were always running, because people couldn’t accept us. No one cared that we were vampires, they just hated the idea that it was a woman who held my heart.” Abby’s hands tightened around me.

“I remember it all. I remember being terrified you wouldn’t come home. I remember all the running. We ran so many times. I know you miss Ireland. I know you want to go back home.”

“I do miss Ireland, sweetheart, but being with you is worth any amount of homesickness. Just being able to wrap you in my arms and kiss your neck makes all the running and everything and anything else worthwhile.” She tickled my neck with gentle butterfly kisses.

“Being with you, Abby,…its…its…I’m so happy we have forever to be together.”

“Forever. I love hearing you say that.” Abby nuzzled against me. “Do you know what happened in Ireland today?”

“No. What happened?”

“They legalized gay marriage by popular vote.”

“That’s wonderful, Abby! That’s amazing—”

One of her hands left my stomach, and I instantly missed the contact.

“It means I can marry you legally, Caroline. It means we can have an official ‘forever.’ Let me take you home, Caroline. Let me commit to you. Let me be your forever.”

My breath caught in my throat as I realized where she was leading. She kissed my neck again, then held her closed fist in front of me and opened her hand. She was holding a gorgeous ring with a beautiful yet simple band and a brilliant diamond that was not too small but not ostentatiously large. It was perfect. Like Abby.

Abby’s arm tightened around my waist as she whispered into my ear, “Caroline?”

“Yes?”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes!”

The instant the word was out of my mouth, Abby spun me around and kissed me. It was hard, passionate, but not overly rough or aggressive. I kissed her back the same way, passionate and gentle, a kiss mean to convey love, not hunger.

After a moment she broke the kiss and reached for my hand. She took it, looked at me, then said, “Are you sure?”

“Yes! I’m sure. I love you, you senile idiot. The real question is whether you still want to marry me, since Nat will be my man of honor.”

Abby sighed dramatically, then smiled. “If having Nat in our wedding means having you on my arm, my ring on your finger and a bigger smile on your face, then I’ll give the damn demon his invitation personally,” Abby replied.

“Good. Now give me the damn ring.”

She laughed and slipped on the ring onto my finger before moving in for another kiss.

I could kiss Abby forever, and that’s what I planned on doing.