"My wife," he murmured softly.

Appearing flushed and utterly desirable, she regarded him with a quizzical smile.

"Lucien."

"Yes, my dear?"

"You said that you wished to indulge in my rituals. Do vampires not wed?"

Lucien paused. There was nothing more he desired than to truly bond with this woman. To share the Immortal Kiss so that they were one. But Jocelyn was mortal. She could not possibly comprehend the sheer intimacy that would come of the sharing of blood.

"It is rather a different sort of ceremony," he offered in vague tones.

Predictably her curiosity was instantly aroused. "What do you mean?"

He gave a slow shake of his head. "I am uncertain that you are prepared, my sweet."

"Why?"

Clearly she would not be satisfied until he had revealed all, Lucien acknowledged wryly.

Thankfully he loved her as much for her stubborn spirit as for her kind heart.

"Because our bonding is not of pretty words and pledges but of our very souls," he explained in low tones. "We become one with each other, sharing our hearts and emotions and even our thoughts. It can be far too intimate for mortals."

She considered his words for a moment, and then astonishingly raised her hands to touch the amulet that glowed about her neck.

"But I am not just another mortal. I have the Medallion."

Lucien briefly considered the powerful artifact. It was true that the Medallion was subtly changing the maiden. And Nefri had implied that her future would not be that of a mere human.

Perhaps it would be possible.

"Yes," he murmured.

She gazed deep into his eyes. "I want to be one with you, Lucien."

"There is no turning back," he warned.

"Good." She reached out to touch his cheek. "Tell me how."

"We must drink of each other's blood."

Despite her best intentions, Jocelyn could not entirely disguise her brief flare of shock.

"I see."

Lucien smiled, covering her hand with his own. "Jocelyn, we will know when the time is proper. For now we have a wedding to plan."

A hint of relief lightened her beautiful features. "Yes."

"And swiftly." He deliberately allowed his gaze to lower toward the thin fabric of her gown.

That ready heat flowed swiftly through his veins. Two centuries of suppressed passion were not easily ignored. "I grow weary of that cramped bed in the garret."

A faint color stained her cheeks, but her own eyes darkened with a smoldering need. The air in the bedchamber was suddenly thick with awareness.

"So you are wedding me for a more comfortable bed?" she attempted to tease.

"And what is in it," he growled softly.

She shivered. "Lucien."

He could take her. All he need do was pull her into his arms and she would readily give him all the pleasure his body ached to receive. One kiss, one touch, and she would forget all but the desire that blazed between them.

But even as the realization flared through his mind, his heart could feel the lingering hint of disquiet deep within her.

She had been branded a scarlet woman despite her innocence. And while she would never admit it, the scars still lingered. To give herself without the blessing of marriage would make her question the strength of her honor.

Swallowing a groan, Lucien was again struggling to restrain his unruly passions. Great Nefri, give me strength, he silently pleaded.

"But first there is something we must do," he said in ragged tones.

She blinked, as if startled to discover she was not being thoroughly ravaged. And he hoped a trifle disappointed.

"Oh. And what is that?"

Lucien drew in a deep breath, knowing that he was about to destroy the magic of this moment. Unfortunate, of course. But after devoting hours to thinking of joining his life with this woman, he had realized that she was not yet prepared to put her past completely behind her.

He wanted her unburdened and able to concentrate upon their future together. A future with no barriers.

"We must speak with your parents."

Her eyes widened as she abruptly sank back into the pillows. It was obvious that she was not overly delighted with the thought of confronting the mother and father who had turned their back upon her. Lucien did not blame her for her pained reluctance, but he could not waver. He did this for Jocelyn.

"My parents? Why?"

"My sweet, you cannot make peace with your future while you still harbor anger in your past," he said softly. "It will haunt you until it has been resolved."

Her lips flared at the truth she could not deny. "You desire me to beg for their forgiveness?"

"Certainly not. But neither do I desire you to continue hiding from those who shamed you."

His heart faltered as her face became pale, and the eyes darkened with distress at his stern words.

"That is absurd."

"Jocelyn." His hand lifted, only to fall as she flinched from his touch. "It is one thing to willingly turn your back upon society, and even your parents. It is quite another to be forced away."

"I have told you that it no longer matters."

"It matters to you," he said huskily. "You must confront them bravely and with your head lifted high. You must prove to yourself that you no longer fear them."

She unconsciously wet her dry lips as she reluctantly considered his persuasive argument.

"Lucien..."

"Trust me in this, my dear," he pleaded softly. "I shall be at your side."

Their gazes tangled as she battled the inner dread of confronting those who had harmed her.

Silently Lucien allowed her stormy emotions to wash through him and offered her back the strength of his unwavering love.

At last she heaved a small sigh. "Very well."

The tall, elegant town house built in the Palladian style was the largest and the most beautiful in the square.

It would have to be, Jocelyn wryly conceded, as she studied the Portland stone building standing proudly behind the wrought iron railing.

The Kinglys demanded the best in everything. From their outlandishly expensive French chef to Mrs. Kingly's ivory and gold carriage to the imported Chinese roses that graced the conservatory, they would accept nothing that was not envied by others in society.

Especially their daughter.

Jocelyn had often wondered if it was her father's lack of an aristocratic title that made them so compulsive in their need to appear superior among the ton. They often complained bitterly enough at being seated too far down the table at a dinner and forced to mix with encroaching mushrooms. And more than once her mother had refused to attend a society function when she suspected that her sister, who had married an earl, would be invited.

Their overweening pride was all-important, and nothing was allowed to tarnish the Kingly name.

Whatever the cause, Jocelyn knew they would not readily welcome home their scandal-tainted daughter. And only the steady warmth of the gentleman at her side kept her from bolting down the quiet Mayfair street.

"I am here," he whispered softly as the door to the house was opened, and a starched butler regarded her with barely concealed amazement.

Drawing in a deep breath, she forced herself to climb the stairs to enter the marble foyer.

She had lived among the most desperate thieves and murderers in all of London. She had walked paths at night that the Watch would not dare tread. She had been stalked by a crazed vampire and managed to kill him.

Surely to goodness she could face her parents.

Unconsciously squaring her shoulders, she turned to face the servant she had known since she was a child.

"Good afternoon, Scowly. I trust you are well?"

Although harshly trained by Mrs. Kingly, the butler allowed a faint smile to curve his lips. He had always been fond of Jocelyn when she was young and had often slipped her treats that were forbidden by her parents.

"Quite well. It is good to see you again, Miss Kingly."

"Thank you." She glanced toward the ponderous staircase that boasted a finely carved balustrade. "Are my parents at home?"

The silver-haired butler gave a slight nod. "Yes, they are in the front salon."

The rather cowardly hope that her parents were dashing about London with their usual need to see and be seen was abruptly crushed. Thankfully, however, her smile never faltered as she felt Lucien place his hand on the small of her back.

She would not be feeing her parents alone.

This wonderful, glorious man was at her side.

For an eternity.

"I will show myself in, Scowly," she managed to say in firm tones.

"I..." A gleam of approval entered the old servant's gaze. "Very good."

With her head held as high as Lucien had commanded, Jocelyn swept her way up the stairs, rather absurdly relieved that she had allowed her fiancé to convince her to purchase a new gown in a lovely shade of pale blue. It would be difficult enough to confront her parents without concerning herself that she appeared a ragamuffin.

Reaching the open landing that offered a stunning view of the foyer below and the landing above, Jocelyn turned to enter the front salon.