Darkness Rises

Chapter 5

“I feel pretty! Oh so pretty!”

Krysta jerked awake.

“I feel pretty and witty and gaaaaaaay!”

Sitting up in the director’s chair, she winced and rubbed her aching neck. She must have fallen asleep.

Her gaze went to Étienne.

He lay as he had ever since she and Sean had finished cleaning and bandaging his wounds. Still as death. The rise and fall of his chest so faint it seemed an illusion.

She reached for the cell phone she had dropped on the battered table beside her. Sean shuffled into the room, eyes puffy from sleep, boxers and T-shirt as rumpled as his short, black hair.

“How’s your head?” she asked.

“Better.”

She glanced at the phone. “It’s someone named Richart.”

“Are you going to answer it or let it go to voice mail?”

Glancing at Étienne, she answered the call.

Before she could say one word, a slew of French poured over the line. Biting her lip, she waited for it to end.

An expectant pause ensued.

Diving in, Krysta asked, “Do you speak English?”

“Yes,” the man replied in a voice and accent very similar to Étienne’s. “Who is this? Where did you find this phone?”

“In the owner’s pocket. Who is this?” she countered.

“Where is he?”

She looked at Sean, who watched her with furrowed brow. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m his brother.”

Not what she had been expecting. “Vampires have brothers?” she asked, realizing the moment she said it what a stupid question it was. Of course they did. They had all been human once. It was just hard to remember that once they turned monstrous.

Sean’s eyebrows flew up as he mouthed, “His brother?”

She nodded.

A tense silence followed.

“Hello?” she asked at length.

“If you have harmed him in any way,” the man began, his deep voice so full of menace that she felt a twinge of fear.

“I haven’t.” She thought she heard a sigh of relief. “But someone else has. And I’m a little worried that they might come after us.”

Sean nodded, sharing her concern.

They still had seen nothing about it on the news and didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Both feared it was bad.

“How sorely is he wounded?”

“I’m pretty sure he needs blood.”

“Did you give him any?”

“Um . . . no.”

“Yet you know what he is.”

“If you mean, do I know he’s a vampire, then yes.”

Another long pause. “Tell me where you are located.”

Covering the phone, she whispered, “He wants to know where we are.”

Sean looked as uneasy as she felt. “I don’t know . . .”

“Who is there with you?” Richart demanded.

“My brother.”

“Who else?”

She bit her lip. If Étienne was a two-hundred-year-old vampire and Richart was his brother, then Richart must be a vampire, too. What if Richart planned to bring a few of his bloodsucking friends? What if they didn’t share Étienne’s rare desire to protect humans?

“You hesitate,” he pointed out.

“Look, I’m just not used to trusting vampires, okay? How do I know you won’t bring a horde of others along with you and kill us both?”

“I wouldn’t need a horde of others to kill you,” he responded simply.

Crap.

“Honey,” she heard a woman say in the background with an American accent, “if you’re trying to reassure her that you won’t hurt them, saying things like that won’t help.”

Krysta raised her eyebrows.

Sean mouthed, “What?”

“I think he has a girlfriend,” she whispered.

“Étienne?”

“No.” He’d better not. “His brother.”

Wait. Why should it matter to her if Étienne had a girlfriend?

“I shall come alone,” Richart tried again. “Unarmed. You may arm yourself however you will.”

She looked at Étienne, so still and pale.

Hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake, she gave Richart their address.

Sean left the room, then returned in jeans with two holstered 9mms, socks, and sneakers.

Krysta rose and reached for a shoto sword.

Richart repeated her address. Krysta heard typing in the background.

“Here it is,” the woman with Richart said.

“Is there a satellite image of it? Or a street view?”

“The closest street view,” the woman said, “is this. A gas station a couple of miles away.”

“Thank you, my love.”

Krysta could have sworn she heard them kiss.

“Be careful,” the woman cautioned.

“Always,” he murmured. Then louder to Krysta, “One moment, please.”

“Okay.”

“What?” Sean asked, tying his laces.

“This is so weird.” She had never really thought of vampires as anything other than monsters.

A laugh came over the line. “It worked,” Richart said, with a great deal of surprise in his voice.

“What did?”

“Open your front door.”

Frowning, Krysta strode past Sean into the den and crossed to the front door.

Her hand tightening on her sword, she glanced back.

Sean stood in the doorway of her bedroom, one Ruger aimed at the door, one aimed at Étienne.

Krysta turned the lock with the hand holding the phone and opened the door. Tilting her head back, she eyed the figure standing on the front porch.

A mirror image of Étienne stared back.

“Holy crap,” she whispered. “Richart?”

The vampire’s gaze moved past her to take in her brother and the rest of their tiny abode. He drew in a deep breath, nostrils flaring, then nodded. “May I come in?”

Swallowing, she stepped back.

Richart nodded to Sean, who nodded back, but didn’t lower his weapons.

Krysta closed the door. “Étienne is in there.”

Richart’s boots thudded loudly on the worn wood floor as he strode toward the bedroom.

Sean eased back into the room, never shifting his aim from the two vampires.

“Sean.”

“It’s all right,” Richart said, surprising her. “I understand.” Once in the room, he leaned down over his brother and drew back the sheet. “His wounds are not healing?” All were covered by bandages.

“No.”

“Étienne, mon frère?”

No response.

“How deep are the cuts?”

“Not cuts,” she corrected. “Bullet wounds.”

He looked at her sharply, then glanced at Sean. “Your weapons have not been fired tonight.”

“It wasn’t us,” Sean confirmed. “I removed the bullets, but didn’t stitch the wounds because they weren’t bleeding. I just bandaged them instead.”

“You have my gratitude,” Richart uttered with a bow. Turning back to his brother, he peeled one of the bandages back and muttered something in French.

Krysta fervently wished she knew French.

Richart took his brother’s forearm in his hands and raised Étienne’s wrist to his lips. As he parted his own, fangs descended.

“Wait!” Krysta protested.

He met her gaze. “What?”

“He’s lost enough blood, don’t you think?”

Richart considered her for a moment, then seemed to come to some decision. “Our fangs are like needles. They siphon the blood of anyone we bite directly into our veins and, if necessary, can infuse others with our blood.”

Sean lowered his aim slightly, medical curiosity brightening his face. “Really? So you can transfuse him just by biting him?”

“Yes.” Richart bent his head and sank his fangs into his brother’s wrist.

Krysta shared a Holy Crap! look with Sean.

It didn’t take long at all, which was actually frightening. If he could infuse his brother with blood that swiftly, then he could drain a human that quickly, too.

As could Étienne.

Lowering his brother’s arm, Richart systematically removed all of Étienne’s dressings. “Thank you,” he said, “for caring for him and bandaging his wounds.”

The mortal siblings nodded.

The male even holstered his weapons.

“Why did you do it?” Richart couldn’t resist asking. They clearly weren’t Seconds or other members of the human network or they would have known Étienne wasn’t a vampire.

“He saved my life,” the woman said. “I would have died tonight if it weren’t for him.”

Ah. “A vampire attacked you?”

She shared a look with her brother. “Sssssssort of. But they weren’t—”

“More than one vampire?”

“Yes. There were six. But we took care of them.”

Tossing the bandages in a nearby rubbish bin, Richart stared at her. “You fought alongside him?”

“Yes.”

“Both of you?”

“No. Just me. My brother came later and got us out of there.”

Richart stared down at Étienne. Odd that there were so many bullet holes. Vampires usually stuck to blades like the immortals, knowing—even in their madness—that attracting too much mortal attention would likely lead to their demise.

Étienne’s wounds slowly began to close and heal. Neither human expressed the amazement Richart would have expected upon seeing such.

Hmm.

Étienne looked much better, but it took longer for his wounds to close than it should have. And he wasn’t rousing.

Richart nudged him. “Étienne.”

Nothing.

The healing sleep could be deep.

Richart shoved him hard. Hard enough to wake him even from a healing sleep. “Étienne! Réveiller!”

Still nothing.

“Something is wrong,” he muttered, his concern mounting.

“I think it’s the drug,” the woman said.

Richart’s head snapped up. “What?”

“The drug.”

“You drugged him?” Fury rushed through him. Only one drug existed that could knock out an immortal like this. And, if these two possessed it, it meant they were the enemy.

An enemy who should have been destroyed months ago.

Both mortals took a cautious step back as his eyes began to glow.

The male raised his weapons.

“No,” the woman blurted. “We didn’t drug him. That’s what I was trying to tell you. The vampires weren’t the biggest threat tonight. It was the soldiers who arrived after we defeated the vampires.”

He swore. “Soldiers?”

“Yes.”

“Describe them.”

She did, and told him everything that had happened from the time the vampires had been defeated to Étienne being felled.

“C’est impossible,” he whispered. They had eradicated the mercenary threat. Completely. Darnell had erased all of the computer files and cyber files. Seth and David had wiped the memories of those they had allowed to live. The rest of the mercenaries had been killed.

It just wasn’t possible. They had left no dangling threads.

Immortals didn’t even carry the tranquilizer antidote with them anymore because no one was supposed to have that drug. No one but the researchers at the network, and none of them would use it against one of the immortals they aided.

The woman shifted, easing her weight off one leg. “Who were they?” She had limped when she had followed him into the room. She must have been injured, too.

“I didn’t ask your name,” he said, still reeling.

“Krysta Linz. This is my brother Sean.”

Richart performed an abbreviated bow. “Richart d’Alençon.” There was only one way to confirm that this drug was the same one the mercenaries had used against them. “Please excuse me for a moment. I will return shortly.”

Too shaken to worry about their reaction, he teleported to his home. “Sheldon!”

“Yeah?” His young Second entered Richart’s bedroom, holding a sandwich in one hand. As soon as he caught Richart’s expression, he sobered. “Oh shit. What happened?”

“Do we have any of the tranquilizer antidote left?” Richart asked as he gathered a change of clothes for Étienne.

Nodding, Sheldon set the sandwich down and left the room. Richart followed him to the bathroom in which Sheldon kept much of their first-aid paraphernalia.

A solitary autoinjector was stashed in one of the drawers.

Jenna appeared in the doorway as Sheldon grabbed it and handed it over without a word.

Richart didn’t think he had ever seen the young man look so worried. “Thank you.” He met Jenna’s gaze.

“Is it Étienne?” she asked.

He nodded. Knowing she would understand if he explained later, he teleported. Returning to his brother’s side, Richart dropped the clothing on the bed.

Krysta and Sean jumped at his reappearance.

Removing the cap, Richart pressed the autoinjector to Étienne’s neck.

“Is that an EpiPen?” Sean asked.

Richart shook his head. An EpiPen wouldn’t do squat to an immortal. They were unaffected by all but two drugs: The mercenaries’ tranquilizer and the antidote Dr. Lipton had developed to counter it.

Turning the used autoinjector over and over in his hand, he waited.

Étienne opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was his brother looming over the lumpy bed that supported him. The second was Krysta and her brother.

As the lethargy induced by the tranquilizer rapidly faded, Étienne sat up and took stock of the situation. They were in the mortals’ home, in Krysta’s bedroom. Étienne wore only his boxer shorts, a bedspread covering him from the waist down. Instead of being riddled with wounds and stained red with blood, his body was clean, healed, and carried the pleasant citrus scent he associated with Krysta.

“Are you okay?” she asked, the words leaping from her lips as if she could no longer contain them.

He nodded. His gaze went to the autoinjector Richart held. “How did you find me?” Étienne asked him.

“Krysta answered your phone.”

“Does anyone else know you’re here?”

“Jenna and Sheldon know I’m with you, but not where.”

Étienne turned to Krysta and her brother. “I assume you got me out of there. Thank you. Both of you.”

“You saved my life,” Krysta said. “Again. Thank you.”

Sean nodded. “Thank you.”

Richart held up the autoinjector and drew Étienne’s gaze. “We have a problem.”

A colossal understatement.

Étienne’s eyes widened as a thought occurred. Oh shit. We have to call for a cleanup, he told Richart mentally. If humans haven’t already found the bodies we left lying around, it will be a miracle.

Richart swore and tucked the autoinjector away. I’ll go to Chris now. He glanced out the window. The sun will rise soon. Are you coming with me? Or are you going to stay and handle this? He glanced at their audience.

I’ll stay. And do not give Chris this address. Or their names.

Étienne, they’ve seen too much.

And Jenna didn’t get an eyeful when she was still mortal?

A muscle in his jaw twitched. Jenna could be trusted.

I believe Krysta and Sean can be, too. They saved my life. If that isn’t an endorsement, what is?

“Um,” Krysta broached, “what’s going on? You guys are looking kind of intense.”

Just do what you can to appease Chris when you tell him what happened.

As you wish, brother. Call me if you need me.

Richart nodded at Krysta and Sean, then vanished.

“That is so cool,” Krysta professed.

Étienne smiled. “Yes, it is. I’ve always envied him that talent.” Rising, he reached for the black cargo pants Richart had brought him and tugged them on.

Krysta, he noticed, didn’t even pretend not to watch him, her gaze roving him like fingers and making him wish her brother weren’t in the room with them.

“You can’t do it?” she asked. Had she been the one who had undressed and bathed him?

“Teleport? No.”

“Why is he the only vampire who can do that?”

“I feel pretty! Oh so pretty! I feel pretty and witty and gaaaaaay!”

Étienne raised his eyebrows. What the hell was that?

“Oh.” Krysta grabbed something off a nearby table and held it out to him. “Sorry. Here’s your phone.”

That was coming from his phone?

Sean’s lips twitched.

Étienne frowned. “Damn it. Who keeps changing my ringtone?” He took the cell. “Hello?”

“Finally!” Cam said. “Where the hell have you been? Sheldon called and said you’d been injured and tranqed. Or that he thought you had been tranqued.”

“I was, but I’m all right.”

“Where are you? Do you need me to come and get you?”

“No, I’m safe.”

“Are you sure? Because Richart called, too, and he didn’t sound too confident about that.”

“I’m sure.”

“He didn’t go into details. What’s the situation? What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing. Just sit tight. I’ll fill you in when I return home at sunset,” Étienne ordered, knowing his friend would chafe at having his hands tied.

“Fine. You’re the boss,” Cam griped. “And, Étienne?”

“Yes?”

“Richart told me to tell you Chris knows about the woman.”

Click.

Merde.

Mind racing, Étienne tucked the phone into the back pocket of the pants Richart had brought him, then reached for and donned the T-shirt.

“Who was that?” Krysta asked.

“A friend.”

Sean frowned. “Why didn’t what happened at Duke tonight make the news?”

“We kept waiting for someone to come after us or track us down,” Krysta added.

Little did she know they would if Richart didn’t succeed in cooling Chris’s temper.

Sean swore.

“What?” Krysta asked with a frown.

“I have to get ready for work.”

“Call in sick. Your head must still be hurting.”

“I can’t. We need the money and I can’t afford to lose this job if Ed gets a bug up his butt again.” Sean crossed the room, pausing in the doorway to look back at Étienne. “Harm my sister in any way and I will hunt you down and destroy you. Not a threat. A promise. And I won’t play nice like she does. I’ll do it during the day when you’re vulnerable.”

Étienne didn’t mention that he wasn’t physically weaker during the day as vampire folklore suggested. He may have to avoid sunlight, but he could still kick ass. Instead, he said. “I’ve no wish to harm her. Or you.”

Sean delivered a jerky nod, then left to prepare for work.

For several long moments, Étienne and Krysta stared at each other.

“Are you really okay?” she asked.

He nodded. “And you? You were injured.”

“I’m okay. Sean patched me up.”

And healed the worst of her wounds with his hands, Étienne assumed.

Her gaze slid to the digital clock on her bedside table. “Sean is running late. Let’s put this on hold for a minute while I fix him some breakfast. I don’t want him to go to work on an empty stomach after last night.”

And Étienne had heard enough about their financial struggles to know Sean couldn’t afford to pick something up in the drive-through on the way there.

He followed Krysta into the tiny kitchen and kept her company while she whipped up a breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and orange juice.

Sean demolished that in about a minute, then rushed out the door with a last warning look at Étienne.

“I’m surprised he left,” Étienne admitted.

Krysta shrugged. “Money has been tight. School limits the number of hours he can work and vampire hunting limits the number of hours I can work. But we’re making it.” She put Sean’s dish and glass in the sink and filled it with soapy water. “You’re worried.”

He watched her with some surprise. How had she known that?

“You were worried before the phone call, but afterward . . .” She trailed off.

“We have a problem,” he admitted. Chris knew about her. Even if Richart managed to stall him, Chris and his henchmen would come looking for her. And it would be best if Étienne were by her side when they found her.

“We?”

“You and I,” he clarified.

“Let me guess. The soldiers we killed tonight have friends who are now out for our blood.”

“Yes.” He’d have to explain all of that, too. “But that’s a whole different problem.”

She frowned. “Someone else is out for our blood?”

“No. Just yours. Figuratively speaking.”

“Your vampire friends?”

“My human friends.”

Her eyebrows rose. “What?”

“Perhaps it would be best if I started from the beginning.”

“I was hoping you would.”

“I have a question I would like to ask you first.”

“Okay.” Crossing her arms, she leaned back against the counter and stared up at him. Her hair was a little mussed, finger-combed into submission rather than brushed. Her face was free of makeup, and bore a couple of faint abrasions, one on her jaw and one on her cheekbone, both on the left side of her entrancing face.

Her slender frame was garbed in a tank top and shorts that left her arms and shapely legs bare. Without her coat and assorted weaponry, she appeared so fragile. He still found it hard to reconcile this lovely, delicate mortal with the vampire hunter he had been observing for the past two weeks.

“Why didn’t you go?” he asked, needing to know.

She tilted her head. “You mean when Sean left? Why didn’t I leave with him?”

“No. At Duke. Why didn’t you run when you had the chance?”

“After you threw me behind the building?”

“Yes. I stayed and fought so you would have time to get away.”

“That’s why,” she said, her gaze never leaving his. “You could have escaped. Even tranquilized, you probably could have gotten away fast enough to elude them.”

“They would’ve killed you had I left. And the drug had already weakened me and slowed me enough that I couldn’t toss you over my shoulder and run without risking you being shot. Or tranqed. I couldn’t let either happen.”

“And I couldn’t let them kill you. Or capture you. Or whatever the hell they planned to do to you. I couldn’t let you sacrifice yourself for me.”

And that meant far more than it should have.

He eased closer to her. “Why?”

She lowered her arms and shook her head. “I don’t know.”

He cupped her face in his large hands, heard her breath catch, her heartbeat pick up its pace just as his own did. Heat rushed through him at the simple touch. “You saved my life tonight,” he whispered.

Reaching up, she curled her small, soft hands around his wrists.

Étienne held his breath, waiting for her to pull his hands away. When she didn’t . . .

“Thank you,” he said.

As she nodded, he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers.

Fire licked its way through Krysta’s veins at the soft contact. Étienne caressed her cheeks as his silky smooth, surprisingly warm lips brushed hers.

What am I doing?

His tongue stroked her lips, tempting her into parting them.

What the hell am I doing? she repeated just before he deepened the kiss and she stopped thinking.

Her heart pounded in her chest, thudding against her ribs so determinedly she thought Étienne must feel it.

If he didn’t before, he did then as he moved forward, crowding her against the counter and pressing his large, muscular body into hers.

It felt so good. He felt so good. Tasted good. He even smelled good. Familiar. Bathed as he had been in the soap she used every day, the citrus aroma blending exquisitely with his own masculine scent.

As Étienne leaned into her, every muscle tightened, pleasure dancing through her everywhere they touched.

He slid his arms around her. Heat simmered inside her, preventing Krysta from pulling away. Her breasts pressed against his hard, muscled chest. His rippling abs melded to hers. Her hips settled against his arousal.

I have to stop, the voice of reason intruded. He’s a vampire.

His arms tightened as he continued to tease and tempt her with his tongue.

I don’t sleep with vampires. I hunt them. I destroy them. I loathe them. Damn, he can kiss. I want to tear his freaking clothes off.

Krysta almost moaned a protest when Étienne drew back. Peeling heavy lids open, she stared up at him and caught her breath.

His eyes glowed a brilliant amber. Sharp fangs peeked from between parted lips. And both totally turned her on because he looked like he wanted to devour every inch of her.

Damn.

A growl rumbled forth from deep in his throat as he lowered his head and stole another brief, hard kiss.

Oh, yeah.

Then he ruined it (and did her a favor, she would later grudgingly admit) by again withdrawing and taking three determined steps backward.

Her heart continued to pound. She noted with some chagrin that she was practically panting. And her body tingled everywhere.

That would bother her a lot more if she hadn’t noticed the large bulge straining against the front of his pants that told her more than words that he had been as affected as she had.

He cleared his throat. “I’m not a vampire.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I’m not a vampire.”

“Said the man with the glowing eyes and glinting fangs. Not to mention the super speed and strength.”

“Vampires are not the only preternatural beings who boast such characteristics.”

Oh, shit. There were other preternatural creatures out there?

He shook his head and motioned to the futon. “Will you sit with me so I might explain?”

Krysta nodded, a bit dazed, and followed him over to the futon.

They sat simultaneously and turned toward each other, knees touching.

She liked that their knees touched. Liked the casual contact as much as she had liked the kiss. And wondered where exactly along the way she had lost her damned mind.

Vampire. Vampire hunter. Remember? she mentally chided herself.

“I’m not vampire,” he repeated, stretching an arm along the back of the futon. “I’m immortal.”

Krysta stared at him. Weren’t all vampires mostly immortal? Unless slain, that is? They didn’t age or get sick, after all, and could withstand a lot of damage that would kill humans. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is that vampires are human before their transformation. I and my immortal colleagues, on the other hand, were like you.”

Her heart, already misbehaving from their recent make-out session, began to beat a little faster. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m human.”

“No, you aren’t. Or rather I assume you aren’t because your brother isn’t. Is he your full brother or your half brother?”

“My full brother. And he’s human. We both are.”

“No, you aren’t. You’re different.”

How did he know that? She hadn’t said or done anything to reveal her peculiar gift. And tonight was the first night he’d had any direct contact with Sean.

Wasn’t it?

A gentle smile curled his lips. “Don’t look so panicked, Krysta. If with anyone, your secret is safe with me. I’m just like you. Or I was once. Born with special talents and abilities ordinary humans don’t posses. In centuries past, we called ourselves gifted ones.”

“Gifted ones,” she parroted. Other than her brother and her parents, she had never met another gifted one before.

“My brother,” Étienne continued, “was born with the ability to teleport. Yours was born with the ability to heal with his hands.”

“How do you know that?”

“I followed you home that first night and watched him heal the worst of your wounds with a touch.”

“What, like through the window?” she demanded. What the hell else had he watched, the perve.

His face creased with a disgruntled frown. “Yes, but I’m not a perv. I didn’t watch you shower or anything. I just needed to know who you were. You tried to kill me, remember, and thought me one of the vampires you hunt.”

She frowned. He had kind of nailed the perv thing right on the head. How had he known what she was thinking? Her face wasn’t that expressive, was it?

“My sister and I were both born with the ability to read others’ thoughts,” he admitted.

Her mind went blank, then filled with a maelstrom of reactions and concerns and freak-outs.

He could read her thoughts? He had been reading them all along?

Fury, alarm, and a ridiculous feeling of betrayal barreled through her. “You read my thoughts?” she came close to yelling. He must know, then, that he had intrigued her from the first night they had met. That she thought about him all the time. That she had, not five minutes ago, wanted nothing more than to strip him naked and roll around in bed with him.

The snake!

He held up both hands in a placating gesture. “Not all of them. Not even most of them. Just a few here and there.”

Her face must be turning as red as a raspberry because he seemed quite desperate to assuage her anger.

“Some gifted ones, like yourself, have a natural defense and are difficult to read,” he claimed.

“How difficult,” she snarled, ready to kick his ass if he gave the wrong answer.

“Very difficult,” he hurried to reassure her. “Extremely difficult. Sometimes I can’t read you at all. Other times I only catch a word or two.”

A word or two. That could be less incriminating, she supposed. Maybe her mind was closed enough that he didn’t know she was attracted to him.

“Well, no. I knew that,” he said.

Mouth falling open, she stared at him in dismay. Hell. Did she have no secrets from him?

“You have many secrets from me.”

“Stop reading my thoughts!”

“I’m sorry. It’s just . . . you’re broadcasting them rather loudly at the moment and . . . There is no reason to feel embarrassed, Krysta.”

“Easy for you to say! You weren’t caught mentally checking out my package!”

A startled laugh escaped him before he hastily quelled it. “You’re attracted to me. I know that. But I’m attracted to you, too. I have been ever since the first night I saw you when you stumbled out of that damned frat house, pretending to be drunk, turned your face up to the sky, and seemed to look right at me.”

Her mind quieted. “Really?”

“Yes. And now I can’t read what you’re thinking at all, so if that offends you . . . Well, I won’t apologize for it. You’re a strong, beautiful woman who knows her way around a blade. I find that”—he drew in a deep breath as his eyes traveled over her with a heat that scorched her—“incredibly appealing. But I will apologize for whatever discomfort it causes you.”

How the hell was she supposed to respond to that?

Best to just change the subject and try not to broadcast her thoughts, whatever the hell that meant. “Tell me again how immortals differ from vampires.”

He did, beginning with gifted ones and blowing her mind. She and her brother and parents had always known they were different. But they hadn’t known why. They hadn’t realized they possessed advanced DNA.

And she hadn’t known that vampirism was caused by a virus.

“So the virus causes brain damage and madness in humans, but not in gifted ones?”

“Correct. Our advanced DNA protects us.”

“Where does the DNA come from?”

“We don’t know.”

Recalling all of the times she had been splattered with vampire blood, the time one had bitten her, and the long, wet kiss she had just shared with Étienne, she asked uneasily, “How contagious is this virus?”

He smiled. “Fleeting contact with it won’t transform you. A few drops of vampire blood mingling with yours in a wound won’t infect you. And you can’t get it from a kiss. Or from sex.”

That was nice to know for future reference.

“You can only be transformed in two ways: By having most of your blood drained, then being infused with the blood of a vampire or immortal. Or by being fed from and exposed to the virus in small amounts repeatedly.” He frowned. “Have you ever been bitten by the vampires you hunt?” The idea seemed to upset him.

“Only once.” And it hadn’t been a vamp she had been hunting.

Darkness swept his visage as his brown eyes flashed bright amber once more. “Describe the vampire who bit you.”

Why should it thrill her that he wanted to hunt down the vamp who had sunk his filthy fangs into her?

“No need,” she assured him. “I killed him myself.”

A slow smile lit his face as he wagged his head back and forth.

“What?” she asked.

“I like you more with every tidbit I learn about you.”

She smiled. “You’re pretty likable yourself.”

“Now that you know I’m not a vampire?”

“You were likable even as a vampire. It was very annoying.”

He laughed, flashing those pearly fangs.

If he was infected with the same virus that vampires were, then he must need blood. She had even seen his brother bite his wrist and infuse him with her own eyes. “If you hunt vampires who prey upon humans, does that mean you don’t . . .”

“Kill humans myself?”

“Yes.” She hadn’t wanted to ask, in part because she wasn’t sure she would like his answer.

“I don’t feed from humans or prey upon them as vampires do. But, as you saw tonight, I will kill any human who threatens me or mine.”

Which had it been tonight, she wondered, me or mine? Then called herself a fool. “But, you do need blood?”

“Yes. I assume Richart gave me blood while I was unconscious?”

She nodded. “He, ah, bit your wrist and fed you or whatever.”

“Normally we receive sustenance from blood bags. The humans who work with us also donate blood regularly, so we don’t feed directly from humans unless extreme circumstances drive us to do so.”

Drinking blood. Gross.

“We don’t drink the blood,” he said. “Our fangs carry it straight to our veins.”

Right. That’s what Richart had said. “Are you reading my thoughts again?”

“No. Your face sort of scrunched up with disgust.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.” It wasn’t his fault he needed blood.

He smiled.

Damn, he was handsome when he smiled.

Hell, he was handsome when he didn’t.

Étienne leaned forward a bit. “Listen, about the humans who aid us . . .”

It was so weird, hearing that there were other humans out there who knew about all of this. “Yes?”

“Their top priority is to protect us, to protect immortals, or Immortal Guardians as they call us.”

Wasn’t that sort of backward? The weaker mortals protecting the powerful immortals? “They protect you?”

“Yes. They have a vested interest in doing so. After all, we’re the only thing keeping vampires from slaughtering humans unchecked. And we’ve been fighting to protect humans for millennia. So, the network—”

“The network?”

“That’s what we call the organization of humans who aid us. The network not only provides us with blood, it protects our identities and keeps the general public from finding out that vampires, immortals, and gifted ones exist. Our ability to hunt and destroy vampires would be severely inhibited, if not halted altogether, if mankind learned about us and began to hunt us.”

“But wouldn’t they help you if they knew? Why would you think they would . . . ?” A sickening dread soured her stomach as she recalled the way those soldiers had gone after Étienne earlier. “Is that what happened at Duke? Humans found out about you?”

He nodded. “We dealt with another such threat recently, but quashed it. I’m certain we quashed it. The attack tonight should not have happened. Should not even be possible. No mortals outside of the network should know about us.”

“Except, those solders did. And . . .” Oh, crap. “I do.”

“Precisely.” He shifted the arm resting on the back of the futon and cupped her shoulder in his large hand. The warmth of it still caught her off guard. She had assumed vampires—and immortals now that she knew about them—would be cold to the touch.

“The network is going to want to talk to you,” he told her somberly. And the concern on his face made her nervous. She had thought vampires were the biggest threat to her. His face said something different.

“You say talk,” she voiced. “I hear interrogate and make disappear.”

“It won’t be like that.”

“Are you sure? Because you look worried.”

“I’m not worried.” He looked away, muttered something in French, then turned back to her. “All right. I won’t lie to you. I am worried. The head of the East Coast division of the human network can be ruthless when it comes to protecting us from perceived mortal threats.”

Alarm rose. “You aren’t reassuring me. Are you saying I should run? That we should run? Because Sean knows about this, too.”

“No, don’t run. It wouldn’t do you any good. Chris could find a white dove in a blizzard.”

“Who is Chris?”

“Head of the network.”

“Great.”

“I don’t mean to scare you, Krysta. As long as you don’t view us, Immortal Guardians, as the bad guys and start hunting us, then everything should be fine. In fact, once Chris finds out you’re both gifted ones and that you can successfully hunt vampires, he will likely want to recruit you.”

That was a lot to take in. And could potentially be a good thing. How cool would it be to have other people working with her to eradicate the vampire menace? And to maybe even get paid for it?

Paid. Awesome.

“That sounds pretty good, actually.”

“Yes, it does,” he agreed. “You and Sean would fare much better if you worked for the network and had their support.”

“Then why don’t you look happy about it?”

“Because until he assures himself that you and your brother pose no threat to us, Chris will be a hard-nosed bastard and I don’t want him to upset you.”

Étienne was upset because he didn’t want her to be upset?

That was so sweet. It made her feel all mushy inside. And made her wonder . . . “Why?” she asked. “Why would it bother you so much if I were upset?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head and fingered a strand of her hair. “Because I like you far more than I should.”

Her heart began to pound once more. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

And she thought it wasn’t? She had spent the past six years hunting down and destroying men infected with the same virus that infected Étienne. She was pretty much going on faith here that he wasn’t like them, though his words and actions were pretty damned convincing. Plus . . .

He was immortal.

She was mortal.

Liking each other too much could have some serious consequences.

He gave her a faint smile. “You mimicked my thoughts so closely I may as well have spoken them aloud.”

“Stop reading my thoughts,” she murmured without heat or anger.

“Stop broadcasting them,” he said, equally hushed. “You haven’t told me your gift, Krysta.”

She did not want to go there. “Could we maybe save that for another time?” Everyone she had ever told (outside of her family—and there had been precious few) had thought her a nutcase.

“If you wish. But you will receive no mockery or condemnation from me when you do. I’ve dealt with the surreal and paranormal all of my life. Very little surprises me anymore.”

“Fine.” Hoping he would be the one person who wouldn’t think she either needed a straitjacket or was bullshitting, she drew in a deep breath, ordered herself not to feel hurt if he laughed, and said, “I can see auras.”

“Auras. The glowing colors some say surround people? Those are real?”

She breathed a little easier. He sounded curious, not doubtful. “Yes.”

“How does that help you hunt?”

“What do you mean?”

“The only mortals who can hold their own in battles with vampires are gifted ones whose particular talents give them some kind of edge. How does reading auras help you?”

She hesitated, wanting to tell him, but . . .

He smiled. “Not quite ready to trust?”

“This is all a lot to take in. I just don’t want to—”

“Don’t worry,” he said, touching her shoulder again. “I understand and can wait for you to tell me in your own time.” He winked. “No need to share all of our secrets at once.”

Which implied he thought they would be spending more time with each other and could share secrets later.

The notion pleased Krysta far more than it should.