"For a time, yes. But I have not been back there in many years," he told her, his voice as quiet as hers. There was no need to shout when she could practically hear the thoughts in his head, if he wanted her to. "I would like to take you there, if you will let me."

"I would like to see Paris through your eyes," she murmured back to him, lips just barely brushing his ear as they swayed together. Her head tilted, twisted, her eyes closing as she laid her head on his shoulder, her lips ghosting against his throat, warming his skin with her breath as the last tension she held eased away. He was the only person who ever saw the dhampir fully relaxed.

As she was the only person with whom he ever completely let down his guard. Not even Adelia knew everything there was to know about Valerian or was able to completely slip past all his defenses. "I hope it doesn't take you long to pack," he whispered into her ear. "We leave tonight."

She stilled, her eyes opening above a wide, laughing smile as she lifted her head to look up at him. "Are you driving home for me to pack, or am I?" she countered warmly. That was most certainly a yes, though chances were she was probably going to change her clothes too. Traveling in a dress made for clubbing was not the ideal way to blend in.

"I'll drive," he replied. "I'm leaving Adelia in charge of the club while we're away," he told her, though he had already made his childe a full partner in the business some months ago, and he knew she was fully capable of handling things in his absence. She might be a little jealous of his relationship with Lauren, but if she was, she had never said so. "Unless ..." A slow grin appeared on his face at the thought of something, and he reached into his jacket pocket to produce his car keys, dangling them just within reach. "Would you like the honor?"

Lauren actually squealed in delight as he dangled the keys to his beautiful car in front of her, grabby fingers making a show out of reaching for them. "I'm driving! Yes!" It was a big achievement to be trusted with his car, she knew. A bigger deal to note that he was finally taking steps to wean Adelia off her total dependence on him. She threw an arm about his neck, kissing his cheek loudly. "You are such a sexy puffin, you know that?"

He laughed, the sound of it sometimes strange even to his own ears, though he was getting a little more used to laughing now that Lauren had entered his life. "Sexy, yes. Puffin, no. I am not altogether sure those two words should be used in the same sentence," he said, beaming a smile at her, one hand coming to rest against her hip, as she kissed his cheek.

"Are you going to educate me?" she teased impishly, nuzzling close for a long moment before jangling his keys at him. "If I offer to race you down to the garage, will you cheat because I'm in heels?"

"Race me?" he echoed, chuckling again. "Perhaps I should turn into a bat and fly ahead," he said, waving one hand in the air, as if to mimic a bat flying. His dark eyes were bright with amusement, knowing that part of the legend was pure myth, at least, for him.

She narrowed her eyes laughingly. "If you turn into a bat, I will stuff you down my cleavage," she threatened cheerfully, easing away to claim his hand and pull him eagerly toward the door that lead into the private areas of his infamous club, and toward the stairs down to the parking garage.

"I might enjoy that," he remarked with a grin as she tugged him along, knowing he definitely would enjoy her cleavage, but he might not appreciate it so much if he were a bat. "So, I assume you are agreeable where a trip to Paris is concerned."

"Would you like me to scream it orgasmically so all your club-goers down there know the owner is more than capable of satisfying his demanding lover?" she asked sweetly, tugging him toward the door impatiently. "You said we needed to be quick, after all."

"Scream away. I sincerely doubt they will hear you over the din," he teased in return, the beat of the club loud enough you could almost feel it, as well as hear it, even as they left it behind. "And I did not say we need to be quick. I only said we are leaving tonight," he corrected, though it was a minor technicality.

She paused, turning back to him with a suspicious sort of smile. "Is this tonight as in ....you need to be on the plane before sunrise, but not too much before, because we'll be trapped on the plane waiting for the sun to go down in France?"

"Something like that, yes, though I must admit air travel has made crossing the pond a much less stressful event," he said, though she likely knew this already. And much less dangerous, too. Thankfully, she didn't have to worry about sunrises and sunsets, but sunlight was deadly to one such as himself.

"So ....where am I driving you?" she asked, a suggestive hint to her pale eyes as she looked him over. "You know ....since so many people are going indoors at night now it's getting colder ..."

"To the penthouse, so you can pack," he replied. "Unless ..." He trailed off, a sly smirk on his face. It really was too much fun teasing her. Could she guess where his thoughts were taking him"

Her brow rose as she smirked back at him. She had never been able to follow his thoughts when he offered this particular brand of sly mischief in her direction. "Unless .....what?" she asked innocently, still jangling his keys in her fingers. "Are you having wicked thoughts, Nosferatu?"

"Darling, I am far better looking than that old codger," he pointed out, trying not to sound too insulted, since he knew she was just teasing. He made no attempt to grab the keys back or to answer her question, content with his decision to let her drive. In a way, it was his way of demonstrating his trust. Not even Adelia was allowed to drive his Mercedes.

Lauren snorted with laughter, stepping close to him once again to tease a sultry bite against his neck, never quite breaking the skin. "You are orders of magnitude above Nosferatu, baby," she promised him in a low murmur. "Do tell what your wicked plan is."

"I am not sure how wicked it is, but rather than packing a bag, perhaps you'd like to go shopping instead," he suggested. "In Paris," he added, just to clarify his meaning.

Her brows rose higher, delighted that he would suggest something like that. And, of course, he wouldn't have to follow along and be bored, because he would be asleep when the boutiques were open. "That ....sounds like genius to me."

"I hear they even have toothbrushes," he teased further, with the hint of a smirk on his face. That was one chore he certainly didn't miss, and just one more advantage to being a vampire. He had not worried about cavities or bad breath in over a century.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Are you saying my breath smells now?" she accused in a laughing tone, resuming her tugging of him down the stairs. One thing she had never had to worry about was injury - she healed like a vampire, with just a little blood to speed the process.

"I would never!" he said, feigning shock at the very thought of such a thing. "But I know women have a tendency to require an over-abundance of paraphernalia accompany them wherever they go." And by women, he was including both vampires and dhampirs in that equation.

Lauren rolled her eyes, giggling over her shoulder at him. "Oh, do you now" And this, of course, is based on the many women you've spent a significant amount of time with in the last century, I suppose?"

"It is based on every woman I have ever known, including yourself," he replied, sounding quite sure of himself. He had never really gone into much detail about his past or how many women might have been part of it, but from the glimpse she'd caught of his life when she'd tasted his blood, few of those women had been very important to him.

"Am I really that high maintenance?" she asked innocently, knowing perfectly well that the answer was a resounding yes when it came to the sheer amount of stuff she seemed to need when it came to her personal daily grooming. And yet, despite it all, he seemed to like her best just woken up, with none of the grooming done at all.

"A vampire like Josef," Valerian said with obvious loathing, though Josef was thankfully no more. Lauren had made sure of that, along with Nick. Though Josef and his cohorts had been dead for some months, it would take some time for those who'd suffered at their hands to heal, human and vampire alike.

Her expression tightened for a moment. Her part in ending Josef was something that was unlikely to leave her for a long time to come. She was not proud of the death they had given him, despite how necessary it had been. "Yes, like him," she said finally, bringing the car to a smooth halt at the back of a line of traffic.

"We are not all like him," Val said, though Lauren knew this already. He studied her a moment, noticing the way her expression had changed and knowing she was still feeling some kind of remorse for her hand in Josef's death. "You did what you had to do, love. If you hadn't, there's no telling what Josef might have done," he told her, as he'd told her numerous times before. It would have been easier if he'd been the one to kill Josef, but that wasn't the way things had worked out.

She drew in an uncomfortable breath. "I should have done it differently," she said quietly, shaking her head as the traffic began to move once again. "But I can't change it now. I have to live with what I did, how close to the monster I got." She shrugged, gently turning the wheel to set the car in the direction of Laguardia, and lifted her expression into a healthier smile. "I'm fine," she assured him. "Everyone has regrets, right?"

"Some more than others," he murmured stopping short of saying whether he was one of them. He'd never spoken of having any regrets, but then he hadn't shared much of his past with her yet, other than what she'd gleaned from others and from the brief peek at his memories when she'd tasted his blood. "Nothing can be done to change the past, so there's no point in dwelling on it, except to learn from it. Be happy," he told her further, reaching over to poke a finger at her arm. "By tomorrow, we'll be in Paris."

She giggled as he poked at her. "I'm always happy when I'm with you," she promised him in a fond tone. Her expression, however, turned decidedly teasing as she flickered a glance at him. "Traveling all night, hmm' However are we going to pass the time?"

"Eight hours, give or take," he confirmed, though she probably already had a pretty good idea of how long it would take to get there. "Non-stop. The only problem is it will be daylight when we arrive." It couldn't really be helped. If they timed the flight to arrive in the dark, they'd have to leave in daylight. Either way, he was going to have to deal with some daylight, either leaving or arriving.

She laughed, shaking her head as her tease went right over his head. "What a shame," she agreed impishly. "Trapped together in an enclosed space for hours at a time. It's too much to bear, clearly." Pale green eyes flickered a wicked look in his direction. Get it"

It hadn't gone over his head at all, but like any of his kind, he was more than a little concerned about daylight. To his credit, he caught her look and smiled a little wickedly himself. "It will be a chore, I know."

"Just like washing the kitchen floor, I expect," she chuckled, glancing up as they passed the boundary of the airport. "Where am I going, exactly' I doubt anyone's going to allow me to just speed along a runway in the hope that we take off."

"Look for the Marine Air Terminal," he instructed. It was a little confusing, but thankfully there were signs everywhere to point them in the right direction. It probably would have been easier if he'd done the driving, but this was all part of the adventure.

"The Marine Air Terminal?" Lauren laughed, but did as he said. She wasn't as familiar with Laguardia as he obviously was. Thank goodness for signs, though - without them, she would have been totally lost. Soon enough, though, they were pulling up outside the terminal.

From there, they were escorted inside and eventually onto a private jet, spacious if only because there was no one else accompanying them but a small flight crew. It seemed they were expected, and everything was ready for them, right to the very smallest of details. Whether the crew knew what Valerian was or not, it hardly seemed to matter when he was paying for the best.

It was a beautiful jet, that was for sure. Lauren had traveled in luxury in her time, but she had a feeling she was really going to be spoiled this time around. She did feel a little underdressed for traveling, in her slinky dress and heels and remarkably little else, but she trusted that Val would at least have included her passport and cash card in his arrangements. "Very swanky," she complimented him playfully.

"There's no point in having money if you can't enjoy it," he said, repeating something he'd said earlier, almost word for word. "You'll still have to buckle up for the take-off, but once we're airborne, we can do as we like," he explained. The interior of the cabin was split into two sections - one for sitting and relaxing, and the other for sleeping. If one didn't know better, they might think they were in a swanky hotel room, rather than a private jet. The cabin came equipped with a stewardess who was there to make sure their every request was granted, but even she had a small area of her own, in the case she wasn't needed.

"Do they know?" she asked softly, lowering her voice to a level only he could hear. It was better to know in advance if the humans around them were aware of his nature. Her own was easier to hide from humanity, after all.

He shrugged. "Not really. They probably think I'm eccentric, but so long as I'm paying them well, they don't seem to care," he explained quietly. So long as he was lining their pockets, no one had dared accuse him of being a monster.

Lauren smiled, understanding what didn't need to be said. The secret was still a secret around these humans. She drew her hand against his cheek, nuzzling a tender kiss to his lips. "I'll take the stewardess with me when I go shopping," she offered softly. "And tip outrageously so they don't think anything of it." Because the stewardess was the only one who would have to remain with the jet while the passengers were still on board.

"While I'm sleeping," he said, frowning a little at the thought of her traipsing around Paris without him while he slept the day away. The thought of being left alone on the jet while he was at his most vulnerable was a worrisome one, but once they arrived in Paris, there would be security to watch over him.

"Unless you would rather I sent her with my measurements and stayed with you," she suggested. That was also very feasible - she knew a few of the designers in Paris who would happily put together a wardrobe for her at a moment's notice.

"I'm likely to sleep for some hours," he warned her, not wanting to bore her. Then again, she could choose to sleep the day away with him and stay up all night. "Paris is the City of Light, you know," he told her, assuming she knew that already. Like New York, it was a city that didn't sleep, and there was plenty to do all night.

Lauren's smile softened. "I'll send her out," she decided in that moment, "and sleep here with you." As the pilots completed their final checks, she slid down into a seat, reaching to buckle herself in. "Never sleeps, hmm?"

He smiled, pleased she'd decided to stay with him, rather than discover some of Paris on her own. It had been a long time since either of them had been there, and he wanted them to rediscover it together. Buckled into the seat right beside her, he reached for her hand, sliding his fingers through hers. "Je t'aime, ma chere," he told her in perfect French.

"Je t'adore, mon amour," she answered him warmly, stroking her fingertips over his palm as he reached for her hand. "Always."

He wasn't surprised to find her as fluent in French as he was. Even if she hadn't been there in years, she'd had over a century to master the language, among other things. What else was there to do when one was practically immortal, besides explore the world and its various cultures? "Toujours," he confirmed, his fingers closing around hers, just as the jet was starting down the runway.

Always was a long time, especially for a pair who were guaranteed a good couple of centuries more to share the way they felt for one another, but for some connections, always just wasn't enough. Eternity would be better. But for now, they had the night and the sky, and the surprising privacy afforded by being waited on by a single stewardess who seemed to understand without being told that this couple was a little more than they seemed. Lauren spent an informative twenty minutes with the woman, giving her instructions on where to go and what to pick up when they landed in Paris, making a single phone call to an old friend in the French capital to be expecting the woman. After that, all her attention belonged to Val, and she made absolutely certain he was in no doubt of her deep appreciation for this lovely surprise of his.

"Well done. I arranged to have some things sent to the hotel for myself," he explained of his own wardrobe. He could have done the same for her, but he didn't want to deign to choose her wardrobe for her. He wasn't anywhere near that controlling. Still, he had a few surprises in store.

"Oh, I see." Lauren laughed her warm laugh, rising to pull the suitcase out and investigate its contents, She trusted Jean, the designer, implicitly, and what she found did not disappoint. "Oh my god, he remembered my boot fetish!"

"Boot fetish?" Valerian echoed. "Darling, I'm not sure I want to know what that is," he remarked, knowing she was talking about a fondness for boots, but unable to resist teasing her. "And here I thought you had a fetish for me."

Giggling, she stuck her tongue out at him, pulling ankle boots, underwear, a knitted dress, and a bright jacket out of the suitcase before zipping it closed once more. They could have it sent to the hotel to join his belongings, wherever this mysterious hotel was. "Darling, I have an all-consuming passion for you," she pointed out. "My boot fetish started in the 1800's, and has never quite let go."

"Darling, boots weren't all in vogue in the 1800s because they were fashionable, but because they were practical," he pointed out, having lived through at least part of that century, as well. "I suppose I should get dressed, unless I want to start a riot," he added with a smirk.

She laughed at his correction fondly. "But those boots will always be a classic design, and they are sadly under-used outside period dramas these days," she pointed out with a grin, rummaging through the carefully stocked washbag for all the other important things a lady needs. "And if you think you're leaving this jet in nothing but a bathrobe, you are sadly mistaken. I'll put you in a dress if I have to."

The thought of him in a dress made him laugh. "Don't be absurd, darling, though I do have nice legs," he said with that cheesy, almost egotistical grin of his. Though it was entertaining, not to mention enjoyable and distracting, watching her dress, the sooner he got dressed, the sooner they could leave their self-imposed asylum and embrace all Paris had to offer. With that in mind, he shrugged off the bathrobe and clothed himself in the suit he'd been wearing when they'd left New York. After all, he was a vampire and didn't really have to worry about such things as body odor.

"We would have to shave them," she pointed out in amusement. Despite all the myriad things she did to get ready, she was actually ready to go within about twenty minutes, seated on the edge of the bed to lace her boots. She might not be at the cutting edge of fashion, but Jean knew what she liked. He also knew he would get a massive tip and a lot of advertisement from dressing Laurentia.

"Bite your tongue!" he scolded as he straightened his tie. It didn't take him much longer than her to get dressed, looking as dapper as ever. A product of his time, he was always impeccable dressed, even when he was just relaxing at home. "Blades and I do not like each other much," he remarked. Even when they'd been fighting against Josef and his fledglings, it had been Adelia who'd shown her mastery with blades, not Val.

They were a strange pair, in a way. Where Lauren had embraced the more casual culture of modern times, Val was steadfast in his adherence to what most would now call formal attire. And yet they both exuded a confidence in themselves that set them apart from humanity at large. Rising to her feet, she shook her hair out with a smile. "I haven't shaved my legs since 1922," she informed him. "There are side benefits to being a creature of the night."

"You, my darling, are a little of both," he replied, though she knew that already. She was the best of both worlds - human and vampire. He had made his choice long ago and had never looked back. No regrets. He had witnessed enough suffering to ever look back. "Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm, once they were both dressed and ready to greet Paris.

She smiled, reaching up to capture his face between her hands and press a slow kiss to his lips. "Sun's down," she murmured, brushing the tip of her nose to his. "I think we definitely shall." Her arm wrapped through his, ready to be shown around a city she had only seen in ruins almost a full century before. This was an adventure, certainly, made all the better for taking it with Val.

On the contrary, Val had known Paris during Les ann"es folles, between the wars. It was during that time when he had met Adelia and eventually turned her. But these were not things he ever spoke of, and Lauren had only caught a glimpse of them when she'd shared his blood. "Paris is the only city I've ever seen that can compare to New York." Not even London could compare in his estimation, though Hong Kong might be a close second.

She hugged his arm as they stepped out of the hangar, breathing in the air. Europe always felt different to America, to Australia, to Africa. It was something she couldn't define, and didn't want to try. "Truly?" He knew New York was her home and always had been, no matter where she traveled. "I only ever saw Paris after the war," she told him softly. "It was such a sad place to be. Not like London. The Blitz did nothing to break the British. But the occupation, the liberation ....it felt like it almost destroyed what it was to be French."

"I was not here during the war. Addie and I ..." He broke off, knowing he couldn't avoid the past forever, especially when there were bound to be plenty of reminders of it here in Paris. "We spent some time in London, but the Blitz ....It was too dangerous for those of our kind there." In truth, it was too dangerous for anyone there, but even more so for vampires, who could not be caught away from a sanctuary when the sun rose at dawn.

Lauren squeezed his arm gently, not wanting to force his mind to revisit what were obviously uncomfortable memories for him. "Most of our kind abandoned Europe," she agreed softly. "But many of them came home afterward. Others were insane enough to stay for the full span." She chuckled, clearly thinking of Tobias, who had somehow managed to get himself into the Vatican and an active part of the underground system that had saved so many escaped PoWs during the occupation of Italy.

"Tobias would have had my head if I'd stayed in Europe. He practically begged me to come to New York, and then promptly left us for Europe himself. I always thought that was rather hypocritical of him, but he was always the hero," Val remarked, not without a hint of either guilt or remorse in his voice.

She snorted with faint laughter. "I still don't know how he convinced them to let him into the Vatican, of all places," she said in amusement. Val's guilty remorse did not go unnoticed, her hand sliding down his arm to link her fingers with his. "You had Adelia to consider," she reminded him softly. "It was far better for both of you to spend her first years in the dark somewhere away from all the chaos and danger."

"Yes, well, I was always a self-indulgent, spoiled brat, or so I've been told," Val said, quoting someone else's judgment of him, though he did not say whose. That hint of bitterness was there in his voice again, even as she tried to console him, but then they were exiting the hangar to find a car waiting to take them to the city.

Her eyes narrowed, hearing someone else's voice saying those words, even though they came from his mouth. She stopped abruptly, turning to pull him around to face her by his lapels. "Don't you ever say that about yourself ever again," she told him fiercely. "Those are ignorant words, spoken by someone who clearly didn't know you and didn't care to know you. I never want to hear that voice from your mouth again, Valerian."

Pulled around to face her, he met her gaze, a little startled by the ferocity of her words, and then he was smiling, albeit ironically. "Those were my father's words," he told her, letting her know without a lengthy explanation just how much his father had detested his own son.

"Then your father was a fool," she told him, still in that ferocious tone. "I mean it, Val. Never let him speak through you, or in your head, or ever again. He didn't know you. I do. I love you, you silly man. Do you think I would love someone described like that accurately?"

"I suppose not," he replied, though from the look on his face, he wasn't too sure if he believed it himself. He knew she believed in him, but he wasn't too sure if he believed in himself. Still, for a man - or vampire - who claimed to be self-indulgent and spoiled, he'd shown another side of himself when he'd volunteered to play the bait in the trap they'd set for Josef and Serena. "But I'm not a hero, Lauren. Not like Tobias." There might be people - like Adelia - who thought otherwise, but they were not there to speak for him.

"Bollocks," she said instantly, a very British curse declared in her smooth American accent. "There are more ways to be a hero than by risking your life like a damned idiot. Which, by the way, you did a year ago; without your bravery, Josef and Serena would still be a threat. You saved Adelia. You kept Anabelle's location from Julian when she thought he wanted her dead. You helped to hide Alessandra when the Old Ones passed through the city a few months ago. Still think you're not a hero?"

"Life feels so much slower in Europe," she murmured as they passed down the streets, enchanted by the bustle of a city that wasn't ready to sleep yet. "More easy-going, you know?"

"In a way," he agreed. "Every city has its own personality, its own charm, I suppose. They call New York 'The city that never sleeps'," he remarked, as enchanted by the view as she was, though his view was clouded by memories of faces and places that had once been and were now lost to time. "I thought I might miss the old city," he murmured, as he watched the view passing by. "What is it Billy Joel once wrote" 'The good old days weren't always good, and tomorrow's not as bad as it seems.'"

"It's still Paris, though," she murmured softly, tilting her head up until her brow rested against his jaw. "The places may change, but there's something indefinable that makes a city what it is. You'll always be able to find it, when you come here."

"Some things never change," he added, the Eiffel Tower looming ahead of them, almost to prove what he was saying. With some ways to go yet, it was hard to tell what their first destination might be with so many places to see and things to do, even at night.

And that was a comfort to those of them who lived a longer lifespan, to know that despite all the changes in the world around them, some things remained constant. Lauren smiled faintly, nestled close into his side as they drove through the beautiful city. It was difficult to believe that just half a day ago - not even that - they had been in his nightclub half a world away, teasing each other about being predators among sheep.

It wasn't too long before their destination became clear. They passed signs that would have led them to the Arc de Triomphe and the Musee de l'Homme and the Place de la Concorde, but on they went over the Seine, until there was only one destination looming large just ahead.

As it became clear just where they were heading, Lauren abruptly squealed with excitement, ramming her hand over her mouth to muffle the ridiculous sound. "Right to the top" Oh, please tell me we're going right to the top!"

Valerian laughed as she realized where they were headed, but that was only part of the surprise. "Darling, there's no point in seeing Paris if you don't experience it at least once from the top of the Tower," he confirmed, glad she seemed happy with their destination.

Oh, she was more than happy with the destination ahead of them, seizing his face to plant a long, giggly kiss on his mouth as she wriggled even closer. Keeping in touch with her inner child was definitely something Lauren was very good at; it was so easy to get her innocently excited about an outing or an experience. "Thank you!"

It might as well be Christmas from the look on her face, and he couldn't help but chuckle a little at her childlike exuberance. "Shall we, then?" he asked, almost as eager as she was to see the city anew from the top of the tower. There was a small crowd gathered, most of them in line to purchase tickets, but money and influence had bought them pre-arranged passage, as well as an escort who led them past the crowd and through the gates to the lift that would take them to whatever floor they wished.

"Yes! Yes, we absolutely should!" Completely unable to keep her exuberance from showing, she was bouncing on the seat by the time he was out of the car, long legs pulling herself out swiftly. She held tight to his hand purely to keep herself from rushing on ahead, her smile bright as she tilted her head back to look up at the shining tower above them, brightly lit against the night sky.

It had been a long time since he'd been to the top of the Eiffel Tower, but not so long that he didn't remember it. Still, the landscape had changed quite a bit since then, and the city was much brighter than he remembered it. "Would you prefer to take the lift or the stairs?" he asked, letting her make the choice for them both.

"Elevator," she answered easily. If there was a choice, definitely take the easier way. After all, she was wearing heels, and there were a lot of stairs. "Unless you'd like to carry me up the last hundred or so steps."

"Do you want me to be the first of our kind to have a heart attack?" he whispered, purely in jest and leaning close enough that no one was likely to overhear what he was saying. He was not one to shirk away from modern conveniences the way some of his kind did, but embraced them with exuberance.

"I could give you the kiss of life," she offered impishly, patting his chest fondly as she raised herself up to kiss his cheek. "The elevator it is, then. Since the poor baby can't imagine being romantic enough to spare my little footsies the long walk all by himself."

"Ha!" he sputtered. "It has nothing to do with romance, and everything to do with convenience. But if you insist, perhaps we can take the stairs down," he suggested, patting her behind as fondly as she'd patted his chest. "Let's queue up for the lift like good peasants, shall we?"

She squeaked a little as he patted her rear end, laughing at her silly reaction. "Val ....if you're a peasant, I am definitely a serf," she pointed out with a giggle. "I think it's far more likely you're the lord of the manor slumming it with a mere peasant like me, you know."

"Darling, I've been slumming it since ..." He glanced around briefly at the crowd. "Well, most of my life," he admitted with that hint in his eyes again that there was much more to the story than what he was telling her. "Yes, hullo," he murmured to those around them. "Excuse me, won't you? Excusez moi, s'il vous plait," he said, as he led her through the queue. Was he cutting in line" Absolutely.

The sheer audacity of cutting in line in Paris of all places was enough to make Lauren smile at his confidence, but she knew no one was going to challenge them. Two predators walking through prey were never going to invite the kind of trouble a mere arrogant human might. Still, she murmured thanks and apologies as they passed the slightly affronted people in the line. "You are so lucky you're a handsome fella," she murmured to him playfully. "One smile to the right woman in this line, and I might get lynched."

"Nonsense," Val remarked, as he led her through the line. It was almost as if was Moses parting the Red Sea. People just seemed to obey without thinking. Who did this guy think he was" He had to be someone important the way he confidently made his way through the crowd. "I am a handsome devil, though. I cannot deny that." There were definitely some admiring looks directed their way, not just as him, but at Lauren, as well.

"If only they knew how literally that comment could be taken," she teased, her voice warm against his ear as they made their way to the front of the queue. She wasn't going to deny that his dominant characteristics made her thrill to him whenever he displayed them, and he knew her well enough by now to recognize what that little skip in her heartbeat meant. "You are, by far, the most handsome man here."

"Be careful what you say, my darling. I might take offense," he teased, mostly because she had referred to him as a man. Of course, he was a man, at least as far as gender was concerned, even if he was no longer human.

"Would you rather I called you my wild tempestuous beast who can go all night without stopping?" she asked, her voice shamelessly loud. Yes, she knew pretty much everyone in that line must have enough English to understand every word she said, or could at least infer from context.

"That's a bit of a mouthful, isn't it?" he replied, just as the lift came to a stop and a small crowd of people stepped off. He looked more than a little annoyed as he was bumped into at least once, scowling at the offenders. "You could say excuse me, you know! It doesn't hurt to use good manners!" he called after them.

Lauren dissolved into giggles at his back, noting a certain amount of muttering going on in the queue they had just cut into. But she definitely wasn't going to mention it. Oh, no. Just tease him mercilessly at another time. "I thought you liked it when I had my mouth full of you."

He patted his jacket and pants just to make sure he hadn't been pickpocketed, as they stepped onto the lift. "Uh ..." he mumbled, narrowing his brows at her. "Are you trying to make me blush' It will never work, you know," he said, taking her hand to steer her onto the lift, leaving only enough room for maybe one other couple to join them.

"Oh, I know I can't make you blush," she assured him. "But I did make you hesitate, which is a win for me." She snickered, hugging her arms about his waist as they took up position in the elevator. There could have been room for several other people, but Val was radiating an aura of mine for quite a way around himself tonight. No wonder people were reluctant to be trapped in an elevator with him.

It wasn't like he was going to snack on anyone going up the elevator, but there did seem to be something about him that made others wary. "Lauren, one; Valerian, ten thousand," he teased, not bothering to cite the ten thousand times he was claiming to have won some contest or other. "You have a lot of catching up to do, love."

It wasn't why he'd turned Adelia. Loneliness had never been part of it. It was only when he'd met Lauren and feel in love with her that he'd realized just how lonely he'd been. Now that he knew what it truly was to love, he never wanted to live a single day without that love again. There were no words that could express or song that could do it justice. She would just have to trust him and find that love in the little ways he shared it with her. "Do you remember that night when we shared blood?" he asked her quietly, his words for her hearing alone, his arms wrapped around her against the chill of the wind so high above the city.

Curled about him, she rested her forehead against his, filling her vision, her senses, with the man she loved. Because, despite his flippant objections to the term, he was a man; only the second man she had allowed herself to be so open with, so vulnerable, and after a year of sharing herself with him, she'd known he was all she would ever want in the mate she longed for. She smiled faintly at his soft query, forcing herself not to remember the reason he had given her his blood, but just the moment itself. "I remember."

"Would you be opposed to doing so again?" he asked with some hesitation. There was no real necessity in it. Neither was wounded or in need of healing, but for those who were of the vampire persuasion, there was no more personal or sacred act between two people than the sharing of blood.

There was that dreadful quote from Dracula - the blood is the life - but that was only a fragment of what blood was to them. Blood was life and soul, the deepest bond that could be created. Between those who walked the night, it was far more intimate than any amount of bedsheet bingo could ever be. And being asked to share his blood was the greatest honor Val could give Lauren. "It would be a privilege," she murmured back to him, not even needing a moment to consider her answer.

The bond between master and childe was strong, but the bond he would create between himself and Lauren would be even stronger. It would strip away any barriers between them and allow her to bear witness to all the secrets he kept locked away inside him. There would be no need for explanations; she would know him and understand him almost as well as she knew herself. This was the greatest gift he could give her in the giving of himself, and it went without saying that in doing so, he was giving her his ultimate trust. He did not and would not ask her to do the same for him, but if she so chose to, he would not deny her that either. He smiled and sighed a little at her answer, as if relieved or even content, drawing his arm around her shoulders and turning her at last to face the city spread out before them, lights sparkling like stars in the sky.

He needn't have been concerned that she might not choose to create that bond herself. She'd made that decision a year ago, when they had first shared their blood; she'd known all along that he was her choice. She and Adelia were just going to have to settle their differences calmly. Lauren had no intention of denying herself this closeness just to spare a clingy childe's feelings. With both her arms wrapped about Val's waist, she looked out over the sparkling city below them, sharp eyes seeking out the landmarks she had read so much about - the Moulin Rouge, the Louvre, the Arc De Triomphe, Notre-Dame. "Whatever will we do first?" she murmured, hugging him tight.

"Whatever your heart desires," he replied, risking sounding just a little bit sappy with his reply. He wouldn't have said it if he hadn't meant it. He had brought her here to Paris not only because it was arguably the most romantic city in the world, but because he wanted her to fall in love with it, just as he once had all those decades ago.

"I would love to see Montmartre," she admitted a little shyly. "Walk where Van Gogh and Cezanne walked, feel the streets the way they did." A thought occurred to her, her head rearing back to look him in the eye with suddenly hopefully fascination. "Did you ever meet Van Gogh' Were you in Paris when he was?"

"Sadly, no. I had been to Paris before, but it wasn't until after the first war that I moved there," he explained, pausing for a moment of quiet contemplation. "The nightclub was in Montmartre, on the right bank, but I suppose it's long gone by now," he mused aloud. "I met Hemingway once. He was a pompous ass."

She snorted with laughter. "That doesn't surprise me," she admitted. "He never made much of an impression on me. People who met him said he was a misogynistic womanizer. I'm still not sure how that's possible, but then, James Bond is, and he's still popular after all these years."

"He had a lovely wife who he completely ignored," Valerian continued, with obvious distaste. "He and his fellows liked to drink. Of course, everyone liked to drink in those days." He fell silent a moment, as if he was a little lost in thought or memory, but then he was chuckling again as he caught up with the conversation. "Well, James Bond has good reason not to let anyone close. He was married once, you know. If memory serves, she was murdered on their wedding day." Despite being a vampire, he stifled a shudder at the thought of that.

"I think I saw that movie," she murmured, feeling him shudder. Her hands stroked against his back, offering silent reassurance as she looked out over Paris, the lights of the city reflected in her eyes. "Is there somewhere we can see a traditional can-can here, too?"

It was a book before it was a movie, but he didn't bother to point that out, glad to move on to happier topics of conversation, even if James Bond was nothing more than a fictional character. "Bien sur!" he replied with a grin. "I'm sure you've heard of the Moulin Rouge," he teased.

"I've heard all sorts of things about the Moulin Rouge, but we're not looking for prostitutes just so we can have the full experience," she teased back, lifting her head to meet his eyes. "Will I get to hear Ewan McGregor sing, or is that just the silly movie?"

He laughed at her question, assuming she already knew the answer to that and was just teasing him. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm afraid that was only a movie. Is Mr. McGregor one of your ....What do they call it' Crushes?"

She flashed him a broad grin. "I may be a little bit weak for the accent," she admitted playfully. But having a crush was nothing compared with linking her life to his, after all. Besides, being in love didn't mean she suddenly lost the ability to appreciate a pretty face, nor should it mean the same for him.

"Bloody hell, woman! The man is Scottish. Please don't tell me you're one of those women who goes all ga-ga for kilts and brogues," he said, feeling like his masculinity, not to mention his ego, was a little at stake here.

Lauren cackled at his response. "I think we both know I'm far more susceptible to good tailoring and a debonair sense of danger," she pointed out with a grin. "But ....the brogue does make me a little bit wobbly. From the right person."

"Well, don't expect to hear it from me. I'm an Englishman, through and through," he said, a little defensively, with an affected sniff of disdain or mild insult. "I do speak fluent French and Italian though, if that counts for anything."

"Well now ..." She leaned back, wriggling her arms from about his waist to curl her fingers to his shoulder and neck. "Italian is one of those languages that has the ability to make my clothes spontaneously fall off."

"Really?" he asked, brows arching upwards, dark eyes smoldering with desire. He was a little surprised to learn she seemed to prefer Italian over French, when he preferred French himself, but who was he to argue. "Perhaps I should have taken you to Rome instead, mio caro," he said, purposely whispering the snippet of Italian in her ear.

She hadn't lied. There was no mistaking the shiver that rippled down her spine as he whispered to her in Italian, nor the way her fingers flexed against him as she swayed closer. "That ....is playing with fire in public," she warned with a breathless smile.

He grinned. He had only said two words in Italian, and she was already like putty in his hands. What would happen if he uttered a complete sentence, he wondered. "Faro uscire il tur fuoco?" he whispered further. Shall I put out your fire"

"Val ..." Her voice was a low growl ....not a threat, nor a danger, but a promise that if he pushed this, she was going to take things much further than either of them was happy to go right here where so many curious eyes would be able to see them. Her nails scraped gently against his neck as she bit his lower lip, tugging gently as her pale eyes darkened with wicked desire.