Runaway Vampire (Argeneau, #23)(78)

“Did I?” he frowned now too, obviously trying to recall, then relaxed and smiled faintly. “I nodded that I understood. But I was going to explain that we do not need them, and then got distracted.”

Mary recalled him starting to say, “We,” and then pausing on a groan. She’d then asked, “We what?” But she couldn’t remember whether he’d said anything then or not. She’d been a bit distracted by what he was doing. Apparently they both had been.

Taking a deep breath to try to ease some of the excitement still rushing through her body, she said, “What do you mean we do not need one? Of course we do, Dante. You said I can get pregnant now and we agreed we were not ready for that.”

“Yes, but no,” he said at once and she blinked in confusion. Fortunately, he continued, “I mean, yes you no doubt can get pregnant now, but no, you probably will not.”

“Probably?” Mary asked grimly, arching one eyebrow.

Dante frowned slightly, and straightened, setting his foot back on the ground. His black jeans were still pooled around his ankles as he explain earnestly, “Mary, your body is still going through the turn, which has no doubt suffered something of a setback thanks to the accident. It is not likely it could support a child just now.”

“It’s not likely?” she asked archly.

Grimacing, he sat down on the side of the bed, and took her hand. “For an immortal woman to become pregnant, she has to take in a lot of blood. More than she usually would need to take in. Otherwise the nanos will see the fetus as a threat to their getting the blood they need and will abort it.”

“I’ve been taking in an awful lot of blood,” she pointed out.

“Yes, yes,” Dante agreed waving the issue away with one hand in the same moment. “But that will all be taken up to finish the turn and repair the damage from the accident,” he explained. “It is highly unlikely that you could get pregnant right now.”

“Highly unlikely,” she said slowly, and then raised one eyebrow and asked, “But not impossible?”

“Well . . .” Dante hesitated, and then his shoulders drooped. “You are going to insist on a condom.”

“Yes,” she said dryly.

“Right,” Dante muttered and stood to pull his pants up, then headed for the door, muttering, “I shall be back directly.”

Mary lay back on the bed with a sigh. If someone had told her that birth control would be an issue for her at sixty-two, she would have laughed in their face. “Who knew?” she muttered with disgust.





Sixteen


Dante hurried up the hall and then jogged downstairs, wracking his brain for a way to get condoms. Buying them was the obvious answer, but while it was only 7:30 in the evening and most stores would be open right now, the Enforcer House was in the country, a good fifteen minutes from the nearest store. He really didn’t want to wait that long to get back to Mary.

Perhaps one of the men would have condoms, he thought and grimaced even as the possibility struck him. That just wasn’t likely. Certainly Russell and Francis wouldn’t have them. And Mortimer and his life mate Samantha were apparently hoping to get pregnant, so they wouldn’t have them. Hell, most immortals wouldn’t. They knew all they had to do to guard against pregnancy was not overindulge in blood. But Mary wasn’t willing to take that chance because she had to take in so much blood just now. He understood, but it was frustrating as hell.

Maybe Mortimer kept condoms on hand for guests who stayed at the Enforcer House, Dante thought suddenly. The man had recently taken to ensuring they had most things an unexpected guest might need: everything from clothes in various sizes to shoes, extra vehicles—even brand-new toothbrushes and toothpaste still in their packaging. Condoms might also be on that list, Dante thought hopefully, as he stepped off the stairs and turned into the kitchen.

He was hoping to find Mortimer in there, since that was where the head of the enforcers had been when Dante had gone upstairs. However, he wasn’t, and the first person he ran into on his quest for condoms was Mortimer’s wife, Samantha. The sight of her made him pause abruptly several feet into the room.

“Oh, hello, Dante,” the slender woman said with a smile when she glanced up from the pot she was stirring and spotted him. “How is Mary? Is she hungry? I made some soup.”

“Er . . . no,” Dante murmured, backing toward the doorway. When her eyebrows went up at his strange behavior, he added, “I was looking for Mortimer.”

“He, Bricker, and Lucian went into his study,” she said, and then added, “I’m sure they won’t mind you interrupting. Although if there’s something you need that I can help with—”

“No!” Dante barked with dismay, and then forced a smile and said more calmly, “Thank you, but it is better I talk to Mortimer.”

“Okay,” Samantha said easily, glancing down into the pot she was stirring. But as he left the room he could have sworn he heard her murmur, “No glove, no love, huh?”

Assuring himself that he must have misheard her, Dante hurried along the hall toward Mortimer’s study. He could hear them talking before he reached the door, but was distracted enough he didn’t bother really listening. He also didn’t wait for a response after knocking at the door, but simply opened it and walked in.