“A new immune system for you.” She squeezed his hand. “A fresh start. A donor who helped. Four days ago…” She babbled along, repeating words and phrases, trying to will him to understand.

“New…immune…”

“That’s right—”

A knocking on the glass sounded out, and Ivie glanced over her shoulder. Rubes was on the outside, jumping up and down, her hair like copper coils unsprung and leaping out of a box. She was holding up what looked like a CBC report and pumping a thumbs-up over and over again.

It was working. His new immune system was waking up. And working.

Later, Ivie would reflect that the whole thing was like the first sign of spring that you noticed just as you had thought winter would never be over and the weather would never turn. It was that glorious jolt of happiness when you walked out of your house and the air was a little softer, and the scent of dirt was upon you, and there was a moisture in the air that had been missing since October.

It was the crocus sticking its head out from the earth. The brand-new daffodil in the flower bed. It was the sprig of green grass and the verdant blush in a honeysuckle bush and the buds along the limbs of the trees.

It was the promise of warmth and life and the banishment of winter’s cruel frigidity.

“…Ivie…” Silas whispered.

“I love you,” she said through the mask. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Love you…dearest Ivie.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Look, I don’t mean to be direct about this, but I have to be.”

As Silas sat up in his isolation bed, he stared Ivie right in the eye and crossed his arms over his chest. Refusing to lay back against the raised pillows, he was a re-inflation of himself, a resurrection to where he had been—almost. He had weight to regain. His stomach issues were persisting. He was on a ton of drugs.

But he was gloriously alive, wonderfully alert, and…

…as it turned out, horny.

“When can I make love to you?” he said.

Ivie sat on the bed beside him and couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Well, I’m assuming you can as soon as we get you out of here.”

“And when’s that going to be?”

Silas had skipped the petulant, sulky stage of recovery that some patients fell into and proceeded directly into Ready to Go. And not just about sex. He was ready to get back to his life, to their life together.

“I think within a week?”

The groan he let out was only partially comical. “This room is a fishbowl.”

“I know. But your immune system isn’t quite there yet. We’re close, so close, though. Hey, I don’t have to wear a suit and mask anymore. This is huge.”

The truly miraculous thing was that his transplant had somehow recalibrated his entire body, changing its basis, its very cellular identity. In the previous seven nights, Havers had reduced the amount of anti-rejection drugs in his system and they had discovered…that he appeared to need none at all: Blood tests and tissue samples had shown that the donor’s bone marrow and immune system had essentially “converted” Silas to the donor. So it wasn’t a case of host versus graft, but graft turning host into graft.

Doc Jane, as Ivie had come to know the Brotherhood’s special physician, had been astounded. She evidently had come out of the human tradition and had indicated the transformation was unprecedented in her experience.

But then again, vampires were a different species.

“I want to be alone with you.” Silas smiled. “For, like, a month straight.”

“That’s my plan, too.”

“I mean, I’ve appreciated this incredible level of support from everyone, but I’m ready to have you get frustrated with me for normal things like forgetting to recap the toothpaste, and not putting my dishes in the washer, and leaving my socks around our bedroom.”

Sometimes the miracle people prayed for was nothing more exotic than “normal.” And in the beginning, she had not trusted in the recalibration of things. She had waited for the other shoe to drop, the nightmare to return, the hell to be resumed.

With each passing evening, however, she was able to let more of that go. They still had a long road ahead of them, though. There was a lot of recovery before them, but the big stumbling blocks had all been passed, surmounted by Silas’s body’s incredible resilience.

And the wonderful thing? The donor had stopped by a number of times and they were going to see Ruhn out in the real world after they left. The male, once a stranger, felt like a part of them. Because, hello, without him, there was no “them.”

Pritchard had also been checking in, bringing reports from Silas’s affairs and house and land holdings. He had a lot of money, as it turned out. A lot of investments. A lot of real estate.

Also, a brother who he couldn’t find. But maybe that would come later.

Ivie certainly hoped so. There was an underlying sadness that this therapy had not been used to save Silas’s father—but at least it was an option for any other males who had the defect. And accordingly, both she and Silas were desperate to find his brother who was also a carrier.

On Ivie’s side, her father had been in to visit and so had her mahmen. But the rest of her family was holding off until Silas was out of the hospital and further along.

“You saved my life, Ivie,” he said.

“That was Havers, the doctors, and Ruhn.”

“No. You were the one I lived for. I fought for you. I could hear your voice, I could feel your presence—I held on to all that. Sometimes, I was tempted to give up and give in…but I knew you were fighting for me, for us, and I joined you in that battle. I love you, dearest Ivie.”

Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him and whispered, “I love you, too, my male.”

There were so many things to say, and hopes for the future, hopes and dreams now set to fly free. A world of possibility was now ahead of them, and it was as if stolen property had been returned to them, the precious jewel of time together back in their hands.

“And I can’t wait to make love with you, either,” she muttered. “It’s driving me nuts.”

Epilogue

It was three weeks before Silas was finally free.

Three long weeks.

The delay was because of a scary setback with pneumonia, but Silas had bested the infection like he had beaten every other obstacle, with good humor and strength. In fact, he had called it the test drive of his new immune system—and Ivie loved seeing the pride he had in his cells’ fantastic response.

He was also finally gaining weight, and more than that, he was reveling in the health and wellness he had obviously not felt for so long.

Their leaving the clinic had been a terrifying thrill, with goodbyes that were tearful and heartfelt all around. Ivie was taking a one-month sabbatical, but then she would return to work—and she was giving up her apartment. In a year.

They both agreed it was important for them to develop their relationship at its own pace, and her moving in lock, stock, and barrel was too much pressure. But she was going to be staying with him for a lot of the time.

As Silas’s chauffeured Bentley pulled up in front of the mansion she had once entered for a job interview a lifetime ago, Ivie stared through the windows of its grand facade with great wonder. To think how far she had come since she had first arrived on this grand doorstep.

Silas took her hand. “You ready?”

“Oh, yeah.”

When the driver opened their door, she was the first to get out. Silas emerged more slowly, but his face was shining with happiness.

Looking at the uniformed chauffer, he said, “Thank you, Johe. Why don’t you take the night off?”

“Oh, sire! Thank you!” The older male bowed low. “And may I say, welcome home. We have missed you.”

“Thank you, Johe.”

Silas smiled and waved when the Bentley eased away from the curb. And then Ivie offered her elbow to him.

“My love?” she said.

Silas hooked ahold of her arm and they started up the formal walkway. Gas lanterns sizzled on pretty iron stands, and she pictured what the lawn and plantings around the mansion were going to look like in the spring and summer.