He frowned. “What are you talking about? Beatrice is my friend. I have no—”

“Not her. Them. Your best friend has finally found his partner in eternity. His true mate. Like Ioan did. Like I did. And I see how you look at them, Carwyn.”

He stood stock-still, his heart pounding in his chest. “I do not envy you.”

“Not envy.” She shook her head. “Not envy. Desire. It is not a sin to want someone to walk through eternity by your side.”

Carwyn said, “It is if you’re a priest.”

Isabel raised an eyebrow. “Do you really believe that?”

Carwyn looked away from her piercing gaze. He had never felt guilty as a mortal for loving his wife and his calling in the church at the same time. His own father, an abbot, had taught him that the love between a man and wife should be the purest reflection of God’s love for the church. A joy and testament to the people they guided.

In his heart of hearts, he knew what Isabel saw.

“I’m… lonely,” he finally said. “I can accept that.”

Isabel smiled and a pink sheen of tears came to her eyes. “You shouldn’t have to. Not if there is someone God has brought into your life.”

He cut his eyes at her. “You and your siblings talk too much.”

She smiled innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And you’re a horrible liar.” He walked over and pressed her cheeks between his hands, looking down at her lovely face. “I love you all so much. You have given me so much joy and companionship. I love my family.”

Isabel patted his chest where the red outline of Brigid’s hand still marked him. “And we love you. But it’s not the same.”

He finally smiled and shook his head. “No. It’s not the same.” He pulled his daughter into a tight hug.

“It’s a good thing that breathing is no longer a requirement, Carwyn.”

He laughed and set her down, feeling lighter than he had in months. Perhaps years. He put his hands on his hips and looked around the room, suddenly feeling restless.

Isabel watched him with a smile. “You look ready for something, I’m just not sure what.”

He grinned. “Neither am I.”

“Ready for a change?”

“I think so.” A knot of discomfort settled in his stomach. “I hope so.”

“Ioan would like this.”

“He would, wouldn’t he?” Carwyn nodded.

He moved to the window, watching Gus and Ben grapple along the edge of the meadow. The boy was growing fast and strong. Adapting quickly to his new reality. A wry smile twisted his lips. If a thirteen-year-old runaway could adapt, then a thousand-year-old vampire should be able to, as well.

Isabel asked, “Will you leave the church?”

“I don’t know.” He looked over his shoulder. “Do you think I need to?”

She paused. “There’s no need to make any decisions right now. But I’m glad you’re thinking about it. Even the most devoted servant can have a change in calling.”

“True.” He pursed his lips. “Perhaps I should just give it some thought.”

She smiled and patted his shoulder. “You have time.”

And so did someone else. Carwyn rubbed the scar over his heart and glanced out the window into the black night. “We have time.”

He was perusing the one book of Ioan’s that Gustavo had borrowed about vampire biology years before. Gus’s interest had been in muscular development, but it did have some of Ioan’s theories about blood, as well.

‘Because of the elemental nature of our energy and our need for blood as sustenance, it stands to reason that there is a connection between the four elements and our blood. In comparing phases of matter, we see that the ties between classical elemental theory and modern science begin to find some common ground…’

He heard Giovanni approaching. The fire vampire had been ensconced in his remote cabin with his wife for almost a week. Carwyn had been seeing to Ben’s lessons.

Sort of.

Giovanni said, “Good evening.”

He glanced up. “Hello there, Sparky. How’s the wife?”

“Doing well. She’s swimming right now. And I think she and Gus are practicing some grappling later.”

Carwyn smirked at the carefully restrained growl in his friend’s throat. Would he ever get over seeing Beatrice as someone to be protected? The young woman’s strength was quickly becoming formidable as an immortal. Then he thought about his own instinctive reaction to Brigid Connor working security for Murphy and decided not to say anything.

Giovanni unwound the scarf from around his neck and hung it on the peg by the door. A thought tickled the back of his mind. Something Brigid had said.

“Why do you wear scarves? It’s not as if you get cold.”

“I like the feel of them,” he said with a shrug. “That’s all.”

He frowned. Brigid had liked the pressure of the earth against her skin. “Is that because of the fire?”

Giovanni sat across from him, pulling a letter from his pocket. “Possibly. I think it’s different for all vampires. But for fire vampires, there is a kind of… prickling sensation under our skin most of the time. Not uncomfortable or painful. It just… is.” He shrugged. “Clothing irritates it. So it’s most comfortable to be clothed from head to foot or not at all.”