Darkness Rises

Chapter 15

“You aren’t sleeping,” Étienne commented.

He lay on his back, Krysta’s lovely naked body cuddled up against his side in bed.

“I’m procrastinating,” she said, drawing circles on his chest with her fingers.

“About sleeping?”

“No. There’s something I want to ask you and I’m not sure how you’re going to react.”

“I don’t know that I like the sound of that,” he admitted. Tentative was not a word he would ordinarily use to describe her.

She sat up, the covers falling to her waist, and swiveled to face him.

Étienne’s gaze instantly dropped to her breasts.

She began to speak earnestly, but—for the life of him—Étienne didn’t know what she was saying.

He held up a hand.

She quieted.

He raised his eyes. “If there’s something you wish to discuss, you’re going to have to cover up. I can’t concentrate with your beautiful breasts in my face, tempting me to touch and taste them.”

She dragged the covers up and tucked them under her arms, her lips forming a small smile. “What breasts? I’m built like a ten-year-old boy.”

“The hell you are. I love your breasts. They’re perfect. And, if you doubt that . . .” He motioned to the sheet tenting over his erection.

She smiled and licked her lips. “Ooh. Nice.”

His breath caught as she reached for him.

Stopping inches away, she drew her hand back. “No. Not now. I really do need to talk to you.”

Damn.

“But hold that thought.”

He could do that. “What’s troubling you?” He took her hand and began to toy with her fingers. Did she regret making love with him?

“The same thing that troubled me before,” she answered. “With the mercenary threat combining with the increased vampire population, I can’t continue to hunt the way I have been. I’m putting too many people I care about in danger.”

And he was one of those people. Étienne still couldn’t believe it. “Krysta, I told you. You aren’t—”

“Let me finish.”

“As you wish.”

“There’s an obvious solution. One that will keep me from putting you in danger and from harming Sean when he heals my wounds.”

“Okay.” Had she decided to follow Seth’s advice and become a Second? As much as Étienne wished to keep her safe, he would miss hunting with her each night.

“I want you to transform me,” she blurted, then held her breath.

Étienne stared, convinced he had heard her wrong. “I’m sorry. What?”

“I want you to transform me.”

His heart began to thud against his ribs. His hand tightened on hers. He sat up, the motion drawing them closer. “Krysta . . .”

“Just hear me out,” she said anxiously.

“Only weeks ago you thought I was a vampire and were contemplating killing me.”

“I wasn’t. I mean, I did think you were a vampire, but I already knew I couldn’t kill you. You’re freaking irresistible and you know it.”

“True,” he said, just to goad her.

Smiling, she shoved him in the shoulder with her free hand.

He laughed.

“I hear what you’re saying.” Her face grew solemn. “But I know now that you’re immortal. That you’re just like me, only infected with a virus. I know you won’t go crazy. I know you don’t prey upon innocents. I know how the virus works. Sean has spent every night with Dr. Lipton and explained everything to me in excruciating detail. I just think this is the best solution. The only solution.” She tightened her hold on his hand, her face earnest. “If you transformed me and made me immortal, I could keep hunting and hold my own better against vampires. And I would heal without Sean’s help if mercenaries shot me.”

The thought of her being shot made him lose his erection. He hated the idea of her getting hurt.

“Sean would be safe. You would be safe, knowing I could take care of myself—”

“If you think I would stop worrying about you if you were immortal, you are mistaken.”

“But you would worry about me less, right? Because a bullet wound or two or four wouldn’t kill me or endanger my life.”

Yes, damn it.

“Right?” she pressed.

“Yes,” he conceded.

“Then . . . what do you think? Will you do it?”

He hesitated. “I just don’t want you to rush into anything. I know seeing Sean collapse shook you, but there are other healers among us to whom you could go when—”

“I can’t keep depending on someone else to patch me up. I want to be able to heal on my own. Like you and the other Immortal Guardians. I want to be able to continue hunting vampires. I want to be able to help you defeat your enemies.”

“They’ve tried to kill you three times. They’re your enemies as well.”

“I know. And I’m vulnerable, facing them as I am. I want to be strong like you. I don’t want to have to settle. I don’t want to have to stop hunting and become a Second.”

“Seconds fight in battles, too. I’ve lost more than one in the past to vampires’ blades.”

“But they don’t actively hunt.”

No, they didn’t.

Étienne studied her. He wanted to be objective here, to look out for her best interests instead of going with his own. Did he want her to transform? Absolutely. They had made no promises to each other yet, but they had each admitted they were falling in love and . . .

He couldn’t deny that an eternity spent hunting alongside Krysta sounded blissful. An eternity laughing with her and teasing her. Making love with her.

But those were all his wishes.

This was a decision which, once acted upon, was irreversible.

“Let me read your thoughts,” he requested.

She frowned. “What?”

“Let me read your thoughts. All of them, not just those you send me. I need to know you really have considered this thoroughly and have no doubts. No reservations. That this isn’t a knee-jerk reaction to Sean collapsing.”

She hesitated.

“Seth will insist on doing the same before he renders his decision.”

“We have to ask his permission?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He’s our leader. That’s how it’s done.”

She didn’t look too pleased.

“You’ll have to answer to Seth if you transform, Krysta. You’ll have to obey the rules like the rest of us. And his orders.”

“Well . . . I kinda already am, so . . .”

He arched a brow.

“Okay. I won’t lie. It’ll be hard. I’ve been doing my own thing for years. But you did say he’s the wisest among you.”

“He is.”

“That will make it a little easier.”

“So? Your thoughts?”

She bit her lip. “I’m not hesitating because I have doubts. I’m hesitating because there are things up there that I’m not sure I’m ready for you to see.”

He supposed he would feel the same way. But Étienne wouldn’t approach Seth with the request until he was sure she wasn’t merely panicking and grasping at straws after seeing her brother collapse, pale as death, after healing her. Or panicking over having to give up hunting. Or just plain panicking. She could have been killed tonight. Again.

“Fine,” she said, thrusting her chin forward. “Read my thoughts.”

As soon as he sensed she had let down her guard, Étienne explored her thoughts. There was guilt and concern for Sean. Guilt and concern for him. Conviction that transforming was the best course of action for her. A lot of lust for him. And . . .

His pulse began to pound in his ears.

Love.

Krysta loved him.

After learning she’d been engaged, Étienne had feared her heart would always belong to Michael, but . . .

She really did love him. Him. Étienne.

She was afraid to believe it, because it had happened so fast. But she loved being with him. Hunting. Talking. Laughing and teasing. Making love. Watching television. Sharing a sandwich. Even just sitting quietly on this campus or that, their shoulders and thighs touching as the night breeze caressed them.

And he felt the same. Étienne hadn’t realized he could fall in love so quickly, but living with her these past two weeks and spending so much time together . . .

He couldn’t get enough of her and was astounded that she felt the same way.

Dipping his head, he took her lips in a long, passionate kiss.

She drew back. “Damn it! I didn’t want you to see that!”

“See what?”

“How I feel about you! That’s why you kissed me, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

She covered her face with her hands and spoke something so jumbled into them that he couldn’t decipher it.

“Krysta, sweetheart.” He pried her hands away from her pink face. “I feel the same way.”

“You do?” she asked uncertainly.

“Yes.”

“But it’s too soon.”

“I know it feels that way. But it’s not like we’re dating and only see each other a couple of nights a week. We’ve been together constantly since you and Sean moved in, only parting to sleep.” He smiled. “And there were times we didn’t even do that.”

At last, he managed to coax a faint smile from her. “True.” She sighed. “You didn’t see anything else up there that would embarrass me, did you?”

He winked. “I saw some very interesting fantasies you’ve been fabricating around me.”

“Of course you did,” she acknowledged dryly.

“Would you by any chance care to explore a couple? No, make that a few. We have all day.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Unless you aren’t ready—”

“I’m ready.” She shook her head. “Wait. We’re getting distracted again. Are you going to transform me?”

“I will take the request to Seth and, if he gives his permission . . .”

She leaned forward.

“Yes, I’ll transform you.”

Grinning, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him close, those tantalizing breasts pressed to his bare chest. “Thank you.”

He slid his hands up and down her back, loving the feel of her soft, soft skin. “There is one thing though . . .”

“Crap.” Releasing him, she plopped back onto her heels. “What?”

“Younger immortals are always weaker than older immortals.”

“That’s what Sean said.”

“Sarah isn’t. She was turned only two or three years ago and should be weaker than I. Instead, she’s as strong as her husband, Roland, who turned her.”

“Isn’t he like a thousand years old?”

“Close to it, yes. We don’t know if she’s so strong because of his age or because he’s a healer. But you might consider having Roland turn you.”

She scrunched up her face. “I’d rather you do it.”

“You won’t be linked to him emotionally afterward, if that’s your fear,” he assured her.

“Euw. I didn’t even think of that.”

“You would be stronger than me,” he said, even as he wondered how he would talk Roland into doing it.

“If you turned me, would I be as strong as you or weaker than you?” she asked.

“I don’t know. If the age of the immortal and not his gift is the determining factor, then you would have the same strength I possess, I would imagine. Perhaps slightly less.”

“I’m good with that.”

“Don’t be so hasty, Krysta. Being stronger would be an advantage. The stronger you are, the safer you are in battles against mercenaries and vampires. You’ll move faster. You’ll heal faster. You’ll have a greater tolerance for the sun.”

“I want you to transform me.”

He took her hand. “Just think about it.”

“I don’t have to. If I spent a month mulling it over, I would come to the same conclusion. If Seth says I can be transformed, I want you to be the one to do it,” she insisted.

And he wanted to be the one to do it. But he wanted her to be safe even more. “Okay. Then mull this over. When we first met, I came to your rescue each time you were in over your head. And,” he continued when she started to protest, “you were in over your head. Even you know you would have been killed coming up against the numbers of vampires you did if I hadn’t jumped into the fray and aided you.”

She frowned. “I know. It’s just galling to admit it.”

“Well, if Roland transformed you, our positions could very well reverse. You could be the one coming to my rescue when things got rough, because you would be stronger than I am.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Okay, I won’t lie. That does sound good.”

“Then you’ll consider it?”

She sighed. “I guess.”

“Don’t think that I don’t want to transform you myself. Because I do. I just want you to be safe and don’t want my selfish desires to impede that.”

“Okay.” She still seemed disappointed.

Reaching up, he brushed her hair back from her face. “Why is it so important to you that I transform you?”

“Sean told me how it’s done and . . .” She squeezed his hand. “If someone else’s blood is going to flow through my body, I want it to be yours.”

His hand tightened around her fragile fingers as his body went rock hard. “Would you think me strange if I told you that turns me on?”

She smiled. “A little bit, but I don’t mind.”

Grinning, he yanked her into his arms and fell backward onto the sheets.

She laughed as her hair fell down around them in a silky curtain, closing them off from the rest of the world.

“You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met,” he murmured.

“I find that hard to believe. You’ve lived for two hundred years.” And she wasn’t fishing for compliments. She really didn’t seem to understand her own worth, how unique and exceptional she was.

“It’s true,” he vowed. “Sometimes I fear this might all be a wonderful dream from which I will soon awaken.”

She kissed his stubbled chin. “If it is, I don’t want to wake up.”

He hugged her close. “I’ve been lonely for so long, Krysta,” he admitted.

“I have, too,” she said softly.

“I’ve waited two hundred years for you.”

“I hope I can live up to your expectations,” she murmured, brow furrowing.

He shook his head. “You’ve already surpassed the fantasies and expectations I compiled over the decades and centuries.”

She smirked. “You don’t want much, do you? Just a skinny girl to aggravate you every once in a while and put your life in danger?”

“You don’t aggravate me, you entertain me. Endangering my life keeps me on my toes. And I don’t know why you have issues with your body. The only issue I have with it is that it’s clothed far too often.”

Laughing, she wrinkled her nose. “I was mocked throughout high school for being flat-chested and spent four years watching every male except my fiancé, who was just my boyfriend back then, drool over all the girls with big boobs. So it’s hard not to be self-conscious.” Her face lit with an Ah-ha! expression. “Hey! When I’m transformed, will the virus make me beautiful like Sarah, Lisette, Melanie, and Jenna?”

“You already are beautiful,” he declared. He loved the way she looked.

She pouted. “It won’t change my appearance?”

“No. If you were older, the virus would reverse the damage aging had wrought and make you young again.”

She smiled. “Jenna seems very excited about her gray hair having turned brown again.”

He grinned. “Yes, she is.”

“But it won’t change my shape?”

He shook his head. “If you were emaciated, the virus would rebuild the muscle mass you had lost, heal the damage done, and render you a healthy weight once more. If you were obese, the virus would swiftly burn through your fat stores—”

“Let me guess. Heal the damage done?”

“Yes, and render you a healthy weight. Since you’re neither, there should be no noticeable difference.”

“So . . . no big boobs?”

“No big boobs. Not that you need them.”

She grimaced. “It just would have been nice to have an hourglass figure that wasn’t achieved by wearing a stiff, uncomfortable push-up bra.”

“I prefer no bra to a push-up bra, at least around me,” he mentioned.

“You are so easy to please,” she said with a smile, wiggling from side to side atop him in a way that sent shocks of pleasure darting through him.

His voice deepened. “And you please me endlessly.”

Her look turned flirtatious. “You know, the rest of me may not be too much to brag about, but I do happen to have a lovely mouth.” Lowering her lips to his chest, she tongued his nipple and delivered a love bite.

He hissed in a breath, pulse leaping. “Yes, you do.”

She moved to the other nipple and repeated the gestures. “A very talented mouth.”

Mmmm. “Do tell.”

She sent him a provocative smile. “You sound doubtful.”

Étienne was surprised he could make any sound at all beyond a moan as she slid down his body, her satin skin teasing his cock, and kissed his belly.

“Perhaps a demonstration is in order?” she suggested innocently, dipping her tongue into his navel.

He nodded. “A demonstration. Yes, please.”

With a sultry laugh, she curled her fingers around the base of his shaft and gave the tip straining toward her a long lick.

Étienne groaned and buried his hands in her hair, fire igniting his blood as she circled him with her tongue, then drew him into her warm, wet, admittedly talented mouth.

Krysta hummed as a litany of French poured forth from Étienne’s lips. He was beautiful, muscles rippling, head arching back, face flushing with pleasure. Pleasure that soon swept through her as she coaxed him toward a climax. Her breath shortened as she continued to tease and torment him with her lips and tongue and fingers. She was so wet. She could almost feel him inside her, thrusting deep.

Étienne suddenly released her hair and grabbed her arms. Dragging her up, he rolled her beneath him and plunged inside her.

Crying out, Krysta clamped her hands on his ass and drew him in deep, urging him on as he began to move, thrusting and withdrawing, rocking against her, hitting all the right spots.

“Like it?” he growled in her ear as he slid a hand to her breast and pinched her sensitive nipple.

She nodded, too breathless to speak. Yes.

“Want more?”

Again she nodded. Hell, yes.

He withdrew, rearing back onto his knees.

She opened her mouth to protest and gasped as, instead, he flipped her over onto her hands and knees, then plunged into her again, taking her from behind.

Oh, yeah!

A low laugh vibrated her back as he buried his lips in her hair, seeking and finding the base of her neck as he fondled her breasts with one hand and slid the other down over her stomach to delve into the curls beneath and stroke her clit.

Krysta never would have described herself as being noisy in bed until that moment. Sounds of pleasure emerged with every breath, every thrust, until a climax ripped through her, her body clenching and unclenching around his.

Étienne’s grip tightened almost to the point of pain as he found his own release.

The two collapsed onto the sheets. Krysta barely had time to acknowledge just how heavy all of that muscle was before he rolled them to their sides and spooned around her.

Several minutes passed as they regained their breath. Little aftershocks of pleasure continued to dart through her. She didn’t think she had ever had such an intense orgasm.

“And I didn’t even get to show you how talented my mouth is,” he murmured into her hair.

She smiled. “Next time.”

Étienne felt a twinge of nerves as he dialed Seth’s number.

“Yes?” Seth answered on the second ring. Once more, his voice was accompanied by the sounds of battle.

“It’s Étienne. Are you busy?”

“A bit. What’s up?”

Étienne glanced at Krysta, who stared back with furrowed brow as she bit her lower lip. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Go ahead.”

A scream of pain rent the air in the background.

“Are you sure this isn’t a bad time?”

“Hold on. Friedrich, haben Sie diese?”

“Ja.”

“Ich werde bald wiederkommen.” Seth appeared beside Étienne, a bloody katana in one hand. He nodded a greeting to Krysta. “What’s up?”

Étienne pocketed his phone. “Krysta would like to be transformed.”

“Okay.”

Étienne waited for him to say more.

The silence stretched as Seth stared at him expectantly.

“That’s it?” Étienne asked. “Just . . . okay?”

“Yes. Anything else?”

More silence.

Étienne met Krysta’s confused gaze, then looked at Seth. “I don’t get it.”

Seth arched a brow. “What’s not to get? She wants to be transformed and I have no objection to it.”

“Oh. I guess I just thought that there was more to it than that. That you would want to read her mind or something.”

“Normally, I would read her mind to ensure this was what she truly wanted rather than a hasty decision or that she wasn’t being pressured into it. But I actually saw this coming.”

“What?”

Krysta took a step forward. “What do you mean?”

“Occasionally I get glimpses of the future. Krysta becoming immortal was one of those glimpses, which is why I felt no guilt when I urged her in that direction by repeatedly pointing out that—because she’s mortal—she’s a liability.”

Krysta frowned. “I’ve really come to hate that word.”

Seth shrugged. “Did it help you reach your decision more quickly?”

“Yes,” she grumbled, “but I still don’t like it.”

He smiled. “Ahhhh. She already sounds like an immortal.”

Étienne laughed. “We’re all a pain in your ass, aren’t we?”

“Just so. Now, if you will forgive me, I need to return to the battle before Friedrich is overrun.” He bowed. “Welcome to the family, Krysta. If you have any questions about the transformation, what will happen or how long it will take, I’m sure Dr. Lipton would be happy to answer them for you.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Étienne offered Seth his hand. “Yes. Thank you.”

Seth shook his hand and clapped him on the back, then vanished.

Étienne met Krysta’s gaze. “Looks like we have the go-ahead.”

She nodded. “I expected there to be more to it, too. I thought we’d have to plead our case or something.”

“Seth is an enigma.”

She tilted her head to one side. “Are you sure he’s an immortal?”

“Yes. Why?”

“His aura is different.”

“How so?”

Her gaze roved him. “Your aura is a combination of purple and white that swirls and mingles, but never blends.”

“Really? Is that different from vampires’ auras?”

She nodded. “Vampires’ auras are orange. Human auras vary according to health and mood. Auras of immortals and vampires don’t.”

“So how is Seth’s different?”

“There’s no purple. It’s just pure white. Almost blindingly white. It’s actually quite beautiful.”

Étienne frowned. “All immortals have purple in their auras except for Seth?”

“Yes.”

He pondered that a moment. He had never questioned it before. Seth had gifts like all of them. His eyes glowed when he was gripped by strong emotion like theirs did. He had fangs . . . didn’t he?

Now that he thought about it, Étienne couldn’t recall ever having seen any on the eldest immortal. “Does David’s aura contain purple?”

“Yes, but only a sliver. I thought he was like Seth at first, then saw the purple.”

“Perhaps it’s just an age thing.”

“I suppose so,” she conceded. “Roland has more white in his aura than you and Richart do.”

He relaxed. “That’s it, then. And, speaking of Roland, would you like me to go ahead and give him a call?”

“Yes, please.” She crossed to him and leaned into his side. “I still wish it could be you.”

He kissed her tempting lips. “Me, too.”

His call went straight to voice mail. “Roland, it’s Étienne. Give me a call when you receive this.” He started to put his phone away, then paused. “Let me try Sarah. Those two are rarely apart. Maybe Roland is just being his usual antisocial self and not answering because he doesn’t want to talk to anyone.” He dialed Sarah’s number.

“Hello?”

“Sarah?”

“Yes?”

“Hi. It’s Étienne.”

“Hi,” she said, with what sounded like false enthusiasm. “How’s it going?”

“Good. I’m trying to reach Roland. Is he there?”

“Um . . . no. He’s . . .” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He’s avoiding you.”

“I can hear you,” Roland said in the background.

“Damn it!”

Étienne frowned. “Why is he avoiding me?”

“He’s thinks you’re going to ask him to transform Krysta.”

“I am going to ask him to transform Krysta.”

Roland’s voice came over the phone. “Not going to happen.”

The line went dead.

Swearing, Étienne dialed her number again.

“Hello?” Sarah answered innocently, as though she didn’t know who was calling.

“Put him on,” Étienne said.

Roland let loose a stream of epithets in the background.

“I’m . . . not going to repeat that,” Sarah said.

“You don’t have to,” Étienne told her. “Look, I know he’s antisocial, but—”

“It isn’t just that,” she said, lowering her voice.

“Then what?”

“He found out that . . .”

“What?” he prodded.

She sighed. “The guys on theimmortalguardians.com website are calling him The Transformer. Like the robots.”

More foul epithets from Roland. “I will not be disrespected!”

“I’m sure they don’t mean it as an insult,” Étienne lied. Roland wasn’t a favorite amongst immortals because of his . . . personality and his tendency to terrorize any Seconds sent to serve him, so any gossip that concerned him on the website tended to be unflattering.

“Yes, they do,” she said. “I’m as furious as he is. Roland should be applauded for helping those he transformed, myself included, and the guys on the net are all being dicks about it.”

Étienne’s eyebrows flew up as Roland burst into laughter in the background.

“What?” Sarah demanded. “I can’t curse? It pisses me off.”

“I understand,” Étienne said, wondering how he could spin this and change Roland’s mind. “But I don’t think Krysta should have to—”

“I’m not doing it,” Roland insisted. “Three is my limit.”

“But—”

Rustling sounded.

“Roland,” Sarah warned, her voice fading, “don’t you dare smash my—”

The line went dead.

Étienne tucked his phone away. “Roland isn’t terribly enthusiastic about the idea.”

Stepping back, Krysta smiled and shrugged. “Then it’ll be you after all. Good.”

“Give me one more chance to win him over. Everyone has been sticking pretty close to David’s when they aren’t hunting. We can go by there later and see if I can’t change his mind.”

“Okay, but I don’t think you’re going to have any luck. Everyone I talk to says Roland is as stubborn as a mule.”

“And they’re right. But Seth and David will be there and might urge him along.”

“If you say so.”

“Maybe I’ll buy Sarah a new phone as a peace offering,” he mused.

“What happened to her old one?”

“I’m pretty sure Roland just destroyed it.”

“Yeah. Good luck changing his mind.”

“Come on, Roland,” Étienne urged. “Do it for me.”

Leaning against the bar that separated David’s dining room and kitchen, Roland crossed his arms over his chest. “And I owe you what?”

Richart, Jenna, Lisette, Tracy, Sheldon, and Cam formed a horseshoe around them. Ethan, Edward, Yuri, Stanislov, and their four Seconds stood just behind them and watched over their shoulders.

Étienne swore silently. “Then do it for Krysta.”

“And I owe her what?”

Patience fraying, Étienne gestured to Jenna and Richart. “You turned Jenna for Richart.”

“I turned Jenna because she’s my descendant.”

Cam looked at Jenna and Richart. “Is that why Richart keeps calling you Gramps?”

Roland glared daggers at Richart.

“How do you know Krysta isn’t your descendant?” Étienne asked. It was a stretch, but . . .

“Because I keep track of them,” Roland responded.

Sarah stood sentinel beside her husband and frowned at their audience. “You see? I told you he has a big heart. He’s been watching over them all this time.”

“Keeping track isn’t the same as watching over them,” Roland murmured.

Sarah elbowed him. “Give me my moment, honey. I’m defending you.”

He smiled.

“Roland,” Étienne said, “you must understand my position. I want Krysta to be as strong as possible so she’ll be as safe as possible.”

“I’m an Immortal Guardian,” Roland said, unmoved. “I hunt and destroy vampires. I am not a transformer.”

A few snickers sounded.

Étienne growled in frustration and dragged his hands through his hair.

Marcus smiled and shook his head as he looked at the immortals around him. “I told you not to fuck with him. What if you’re the next one who falls in love with a gifted one? Wouldn’t you want him to transform her, as Étienne does, so she would be stronger and safer? You all just screwed yourselves for a laugh.”

That sobered them up. As many immortals as there had been falling in love lately, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

“I’ll do it,” Sarah said.

Roland’s head snapped around. “What?”

She shrugged. “I’ll do it. I’m as strong and as fast as you are.”

“Awesome!” Sheldon exclaimed, drawing everyone’s gaze. “Chick-on-chick action!”

Cam popped him on the back of the head.

Étienne rolled his eyes and returned his attention to Sarah. “I appreciate the offer, but you aren’t a healer.”

“Oh. Right. I was thinking of the strength part and forgot it might be because he’s a powerful healer.”

Seth and David entered from the kitchen, carrying huge platters of baked cornish hens and filling the room with a mouthwateringly delicious aroma.

Étienne abandoned trying to convince Roland and turned to Seth. “Couldn’t you transform her, Seth?”

“No.” He placed the platter on the ever-growing dining table and turned to face them. “Nor can David.”

David nodded as he did the same.

“Why?”

“We’re older and more powerful than all of you,” Seth reminded him. “We don’t know which of those factors—age or being a powerful healer—causes immortals turned by Roland to be stronger than expected. However, since David and I possess both, chances are excellent that Krysta would be as strong and as powerful as we are if one of us transformed her.”

Sarah arched an eyebrow. “So? What’s wrong with that?”

Jenna crossed her arms over her chest and nodded, chin rising.

“Don’t even go there,” Seth said. “It isn’t a misogynistic thing. I don’t know a single immortal male who isn’t drawn to strong women.”

“Yourself included?” Sarah asked.

“Of course.”

“You hear that, ladies?” she said, a speculative gleam entering her eyes. “We need to find Seth a good, strong woman.”

The women responded with amusing enthusiasm.

“Do you like your women tall or short?”

“Slender or full-figured?”

“She’ll have to be a gifted one, so she can be transformed.”

“Or an immortal. There are other female immortals, aren’t there?”

“I’m sure there are.”

“Hey, I bet we could get Chris to give us a list of them.”

“Or maybe we could ask around on the website. Is there a Personals section on the website? We could post a single and looking for ad for him.”

Seth turned a little green and looked to their husbands. “Um . . . a little help?”

The men raised their hands in a What can we do? It’s out of our hands gesture.

“Anyway,” Seth hurried to interrupt them. “We can’t have a youngster running around with the power we wield. I know we make it look easy, but David and I have had thousands of years to accustom ourselves to it and learn control.”

Étienne sighed. So much for Krysta being as strong as possible. He met her gaze and found excitement rather than disappointment there.

“Looks like it’s going to be you,” she said with a grin, adding several tiny hand claps. “Yay!”

He laughed and shook his head. “I’ll let you choose the time and place.”

“Actually,” David spoke up, “you should do it here, where I can be available to assist you.”

Sarah nodded. “He helped me when I transformed. I don’t remember much about it beyond being submerged in a bathtub full of ice and water with Roland and seeing David leaning over me, but I know he helped me.”

Krysta bit her lip. “How bad does this whole transformation thing get?”

Sarah came forward and stood next to her. “I’ll tell you all about it after dinner.”

“Thank you.”

The front door opened. Bastien, Melanie, and Sean entered.

Étienne took Krysta’s hand. “You really aren’t disappointed?”

She shook her head and squeezed his hand. “You know why I wanted it to be you.”

He did. And recalling it made him hard again, so he hurriedly escorted her to the table, where everyone gathered around to enjoy the sumptuous meal Seth and David had miraculously found time to prepare.