"He knew you could make a difference, then."

"Not his point. He said given my looks, it wasn't as if I would marry particularly well." At V's sharp inhale, she smiled. "Father was a Victorian living in the seventies and eighties. Maybe it was his English background, who the hell knows. But he thought women should get married and look after a big house."

"That was a shitty thing to say to a young girl."

"He would have called it honest. He believed in honesty. Always said Hannah was the pretty one. Of course, he thought she was flighty." God, why the hell was she talking like this? "Anyway, parents can be a problem."

"Yeah. Get that. So fucking get that."

When they both fell quiet, she had a feeling that he was doing the family-album flip-through in his head, too.

After a while, he nodded to the flat-screen TV on the wall. "You want to watch a movie?"

She twisted around in the chair and started to smile. "God, yes. I can't remember the last time I did that. What have you got?"

"I wired the cable so we have everything." In an offhand kind of way, he nodded to the pillows next to him. "Why don't you sit here? You won't really be able to see from where you are."

Shoot. She wanted to be over next to him. She wanted to be… close.

Even as her brain cramped up over the situation, she went to the bed and settled next to him, crossing her arms over her chest and her legs at the ankles. God, she was nervous the way you were when you were on a date. Butterflies. Sweaty palms.

Hello, adrenal glands.

"So what kind of stuff do you like to watch?" she asked as he palmed a remote that had enough buttons on it to launch the space shuttle.

"Today I'm into something boring."

"Really? Why?"

His diamond eyes shifted over to her, the lids so low it was hard to read his stare. "Oh, no reason. You look tired, is all."

On the Other Side, Cormia sat on her cot. Waiting. Again.

She unfolded her hands in her lap. Refolded them. Wished she had a book in her lap to distract her. As she sat in silence, she pondered briefly what it would be like to have a book of her own. Maybe she would put her name in the front so that others would know it was hers. Yes, she would like that. Cormia. Or even better, Cormia's Book.

She would lend it out if her sisters wanted to borrow it, of course. But she would know, as it found other palms to be held in and other eyes to read its print, that the binding and the pages and the stories in it were hers. And the book would know it as well.

She thought of the Chosen's library, with its forest of stacks and its lovely leathery-sweet smell and its overwhelming luxury of words. Her time there truly was her haven and her joyous reclusion. There were so many stories to know, so many places that her eyes could never hope to behold, and she loved learning. Looked forward to it. Hungered for it.

Usually.

This hour differed. As she sat on her cot and waited, she did not want the teaching that was coming for her: The things she was about to know were not what she wanted to learn.

"Greetings, sister."

Cormia looked up. The Chosen who was holding back the doorway's white veil was a model of selflessness and service, a truly upstanding female. And Layla's expression of calm contentment and inner peace was one Cormia envied.

Which you were not permitted to do. Envy meant you were separate from the whole, that you were an individual, and a petty one at that.

"Greetings." Cormia stood up, her knees loose with dread at where they were going. Though she had often wanted to see what was inside the Primale's temple, now she wished never to set foot in its marble confines.

They both bowed to each other and held the poses. "It is my honor to be of aid."

In a low voice, Cormia replied, "I am… I am grateful for your instruction. Lead onward, if you will."

As Layla's head came back to level, her pale green eyes were knowing. "I thought perhaps we would talk here for a bit instead of going to the temple right away."

Cormia swallowed hard. "I would favor that."

"May I take ease, sister?" When Cormia nodded, Layla went over to the cot and sat down, her white robe slitting open to mid thigh. "Join me."

Cormia sat down, the mattress beneath her feeling as hard as stone. She could not breathe, could not move, barely blinked.

"Sister mine, I would seek to allay your fears," Layla said. "Truly, you shall come to enjoy your time with the Primale."

"Indeed." Cormia drew the lapels of her robe closer. "Yet he will visit others, won't he?"

"You will be his priority. As his inaugural mate, you will hold special court with him. For the primale there is a rare hierarchy within the whole, and you shall be first among all of us."

"But how long until he goes to the others?"

Layla frowned. "It would be up to him, although you may have a say in it. If you please him well, he may stay with only you for a time. It has been known to happen before."

"I could tell him to find others, however?"

Layla's perfect head tilted to the side. "Verily, my sister, you will like what passes between the two of you."

"You know who he is, yes? You know the identity of the Primale?"

"In fact, I have seen him."

"You have?"

"Indeed." As Layla's hand went to her chignon of blond hair, which Cormia took the gesture as a sign the female was choosing her words with care. "He is… as a warrior should be. Strong. Intelligent."

Cormia narrowed her eyes. "You withhold to soothe my fears. Do you not?"

Before Layla could respond, the Directrix swept the curtain aside. Without a word to Cormia, she went to Layla and whispered something.

Layla stood up, a flush blooming on her cheeks. "I shall go right away." She turned to Cormia, an odd excitement in her eyes. "Sister, I bid you good leave until my return."

As was custom, Cormia rose and bowed, relieved that she had a reprieve from the lesson for whatever reason. "Be well."

The Directrix, however, did not depart with Layla. "I shall take you to the temple and proceed with your instruction."

Cormia wrapped her arms around herself. "Shall I not wait for Layla-"

"Do you question me?" the Directrix said. "Indeed, you do. Perhaps then you shall desire to set the agenda for the lesson as well, knowing as much as you do about the history and significance of the position for which you have been chosen. For truth, I should enjoy learning from you."

"Forgive me, Directrix," Cormia replied in total shame.

"What is there to forgive? As the Primale's first mate, you shall be free to order me about, so mayhap I should acquaint myself with your leadership now. Tell me, would you prefer me to walk steps arrear of you as we go forth unto the temple?"

Tears welled. "Please, no, Directrix."

"Please, no, what?"

"I would follow you," Cormia whispered with bent head. "Not lead."

Ishtar was the perfect choice, V thought. Boring as hell. Long as the year. As visually arresting as a saltshaker.

"This is the worst load of crap I've ever seen," Jane said while yawning again.

God, she had a nice throat.

As V's fangs unsheathed and he imagined pulling a classic Dracula and rearing up over her prone body, he forced himself to look back at Dustin Hoffman and Warren Beatty trudging through the sand. He'd picked the POS in hopes of getting her to knock out-so he could tunnel into her mind and get all over her.

He was jonesing to have her come against his mouth, even if it was only in the ether of a dream.

While he waited for her to be bored into REM sleep, he found himself staring at the desertscape and perversely thinking of winter… winter and his transition.