(A/N: I know I said the next story would be a Ludovic one, but I had a lot of fun writing last week's reunion, and I thought we needed a little Edmond/Ysanne smut. So here's a short extra story. I will also post the first part of Ludovic's next story, so yay for double updates :) )

Carcassonne, 1683

More than two hundred and fifty years had passed since Ysanne Moreau had left the place of her birth, but the walled city hadn't changed much. The air was still rich with the smell of pine and herbs, and when she closed her eyes she could almost imagine that she was still human, standing by the walls or the canal and breathing in that familiar smell.

"It's beautiful here," Edmond said, and Ysanne opened her eyes.

He leaned on the wall beside her, his hair spilling like ink around his shoulders, his face almost luminous in the moonlight. Ysanne stared at him for a beat too long.

When she'd left him, an eighteen-year-old human boy in the spring of 1667, she'd never imagined she would see him again. But fate had brought him back to her, as a vampire this time, rather than the boy she had known.

For the past three years they had travelled France together – Ysanne had seen it already, but to Edmond, who'd spent his vampire life living in Paris, it had been new and exciting. Many years had passed since she'd crept out of her house in Gascony and left him sleeping, and the man who'd run into her on the streets of Paris was not the boy she'd left, but the bond that they'd forged during their winter together had quickly fallen back into place. Edmond hadn't blamed her for leaving him – they'd never even talked about it – and now he was her dearest friend.

But just like the friendship they'd started years ago, something else had fallen back into place.

Though Ysanne had never admitted it to Edmond, she'd left him that morning so long ago because her feelings for him had moved beyond friendship. The death of her second husband had still been too raw a wound, and she'd fled from Edmond rather than confront her feelings. Now, time had healed that wound, and though she still carried Julien in her heart, his loss didn't hurt like it used to.

She'd taken lovers since then, both male and female, and the more time that passed, the more her old feelings for Edmond started to rear their head.

The man he'd become was so beautiful.

"Why did you never come back here?" Edmond asked, and Ysanne looked over the city walls, out at the darkened huddle of the valley.

"When I became a vampire, my life started again. My parents wanted me to remarry after Richart's death, and coming back would only have meant having the same argument over and over again. I didn't want that." She paused. "That must seem selfish to you."

After all, Edmond had no family. They'd all been taken by the plague years before she met him.

Edmond shook his head. "It doesn't. I'd never pretend to know what it must have felt like to carry all their expectations."

His hand covered hers where it rested on the wall-top, and Ysanne's stomach clenched. She was so familiar with those hands in so many ways, but not in the way that she now wanted. She ached for the touch of them on her body, her bare skin.

"Come on," she said, pulling her hand away. "It's been too long since either of us have eaten."

It wasn't hard to find a nearby tavern, though this particular one hadn't been here when Ysanne was human. They just followed the smell of spilled wine and beer.

"Have you ever been drunk?" Edmond asked, as a man staggered out of the tavern and loudly belched.

Ysanne smiled. "The day after my first wedding, I drank so much that I was sick over my new husband."

"Seriously?" Edmond laughed.

"Seriously," Ysanne confirmed.

"How did he take it?"

"He found it very funny."

The drunk man staggered away from the tavern and slumped into a wooden chair someone had left outside. He belched again.

"I don't think I've ever been that drunk," Edmond said.

Now he never would be – vampires couldn't even drink alcohol, let alone be affected by it.

A woman stumbled out of the tavern. Someone had spilled a drink down her front – or maybe she'd spilled it herself – and her rough-spun dress clung to her curves. The man sat up straighter in his chair and reached for her; she collapsed in his lap, laughing.

Edmond and Ysanne looked at each other.

"They'll do," Ysanne said.

Drunken people made good targets both because their inhibitions were so often lowered, and because they were sometimes so drunk they didn't understand what was happening when they were bitten by a vampire. Their blood never tasted quite as good, but vampires couldn't always afford to be picky.

The two vampires glided from the shadows and approached the couple giggling on the chair. Edmond moved first, taking the woman's hand and drawing her attention to him. She didn't resist as he guided her to her feet and slid one hand around her waist, his other hand gently tilting her head to one side.

Ysanne couldn't help watching.

Edmond bit down on the woman's throat and she let out a startled gasp and clutched his arms. Her eyelids fluttered and she moaned as he pulled her blood into his mouth, and heat rippled through Ysanne. She couldn't stop herself from imagining Edmond's mouth on her own neck – not biting, but kissing.

"Hey!" The man in the chair finally realised that his lady friend was in the arms of another man. He started to get up, and Ysanne moved to block his view. He gaped up at her.

Ysanne buried her fangs in his throat before he could say anything; he stiffened then relaxed against her as the pleasure of the bite rushed through him.

They drank their fill, not enough to harm the humans, and then they sealed the bite marks. Ysanne's target was still slumped in his chair, blinking blearily, and Edmond guided the woman back into his lap. With any luck, neither of them would remember anything.

Edmond and Ysanne returned to the lodging house where they were staying, and quietly went to their room. They often pretended to be married at times like this – it prevented awkward questions – and that meant they almost always ended up in a room with a single bed. They'd shared a bed before, back when Edmond was human, and it hadn't meant anything at first. But as Ysanne's feelings for him started to grow, it had become harder and harder to lie next to him every night and pretend that she didn't want more than sleep.

Once more, she was struggling with this.

The hardness that she felt pressed against her every time they woke up suggested that Edmond felt the same way, and normally Ysanne wouldn't have been so hesitant about addressing how she really felt. But she and Edmond had been friends for years. He was the most important person in her whole world, and she was afraid that if she tried to cross that line from friends to lovers, she might damage their bond.

Edmond pulled off his shirt.

His skin was smooth and pale, marked only by the ragged lines of scar tissue running across his back, echoes from his human life, and carved with lines of muscle.

There was no sign of the starving waif that he'd been when they first met.

Ysanne swallowed and clenched her hands together.

"Ysanne?" Edmond said.

Ysanne blinked and realised that he was looking at her, his expression somewhere between concerned and amused. How many times had he said her name before she realised he was speaking?

They stared at each other for the longest moment.

"I don't . . ." Edmond broke off, ran his fingers through his hair. "I can't . . ."

Another long pause. Edmond's hands were restless, fingers curling and uncurling, his eyes locked on her face, faintly sparking red.

"Merde," he whispered. "I can't do this anymore."

"What?" Ysanne asked.

Edmond strode forward and pulled her hard against him, so hard she gasped. "I can't pretend there is nothing between us but friendship. I wanted you when I was human, and I want you now."

"Edmond," she whispered, and there was so much longing in that one word.

He kissed her, hard and desperate, his fangs grazing her lower lip, and she moaned.

Over the years they'd been friends, she'd seen him shirtless many times – even caught inadvertent glimpses of him naked – but she'd never been able to run her hands over his chest, his back, his shoulders, tangling in his hair, stroking the knife-sharp edge of his jaw. As her hands mapped this new territory, she wanted more.

"My winter boy," she whispered, and his eyes blazed red. "My beautiful winter boy."

Her hand slipped lower, and Edmond groaned, his eyes fluttering closed.

It wasn't enough.

Ysanne fumbled with her dress, her hands shaking. She needed to feel his bare skin against hers.

"Ysanne . . . we don't have to . . ."

She silenced him with a kiss, her hands roaming over him again, urgently stroking where he was hard for her.

"Yes," she said against his mouth. "We do."

They tore at each other's clothes, and though neither of them needed to breathe, the sound of gasping breaths filled the room anyway. A wooden chest sat in one corner of the room; Edmond lifted Ysanne and sat her on it, his hips between her legs.

Her fears about how this would affect their friendship were gone, drowned by a wave of need, and she bit his lip as she urged him inside. Edmond leaned his forehead against hers, holding still for a moment, as if he couldn't quite believe this was happening, and then his hips started to rock against her, hard and fast, tearing a cry from her throat.

She clung to his shoulders, her face pressed to his neck, the wooden chest rattling against the wall, as a wave of raw bliss built and built and built, and then she was shuddering and biting his shoulder, groaning his name between her teeth. Edmond's back stiffened, his grip almost bruising on her hips, as he reached his own release.

Ysanne rested her head on his shoulder. "I suppose this changes things between us."

Edmond laughed, the sound of it vibrating through her. "I suppose it does."

She looked up at him. "What happens now?"

Edmond considered it, stroking Ysanne's hair off her face. "To start with, we're going to do that again."

She laughed.

"I'll be honest, Ysanne, I've wanted this for a long time, and I think you have too."

"I have," she admitted. "But I was afraid of damaging what we already had."

"Do you think we have?"

"Do you?"

Edmond pushed his hips against her again. "Not at all. We've just made things better."

His words put the last of her doubts to rest, and she looped her arms around his neck. "Well, then, I think you need to take me to bed."

He didn't need telling twice.