I did not know pleasure could be excruciating, or that my body could feel so much. I'm not sure I can handle this long term. I need more proof. Maybe this is all an elaborate joke at my expense? Resting my cheek onto his chest while he strokes my tresses, he's sedating me with a caressing touch. No heartbeat! Oh my gawd! Sitting bolt upright I demand, "Light! Light now!" Immediately the bowls begin dancing with flame, the torches ignite. I swallow thickly. That's proof right there isn't it? Gazing at his gentle brown eyes, my voice betrays panic, "You have no heartbeat." "Yes I do." "No, you don't." He sighs heavily before sitting up, pulling me against him, an arm draped around my shoulder, fingers absently tracing my nipple. Mr Sublime distraction. "I am immortal Phoebe. I can't die. But I have a biological body very similar to your own. We've been breeding with your kind for millennia. I have a heartbeat, but it beats at a rate much slower than yours." He shrugs, jostling my cheek, "You have often mistaken us for dead, because you rely so heavily on pathetic sensors and a perverse use of time." I'm shaking - physically trembling.
