Cliff grabbed the other by the hair, yanked his head to one side, and started to sink his fangs into the dying vamp’s neck.
Bastien shot forward and stopped him before he could. “Don’t.”
Cliff glared up at him.
Bastien could hear Cliff’s heart racing, pumping adrenaline through his veins.
Cliff tried to shove him away.
Bastien didn’t budge. “Don’t.”
“Why? They were draining those women. Why not give them a taste of their own medicine?”
“Because Melanie is worried that drinking the blood of another vampire will increase your viral load.” He frowned. “Or is it viral count?” He shook his head. “I can’t remember. I just know she’s afraid that it will make the brain damage and madness progress faster.”
Either Bastien’s calm tone or the science jargon reached Cliff.
Dragging in a deep breath, Cliff calmed and dropped the vampire. “He’ll be dead soon anyway.”
Bastien clapped him on the back. “Good. How do you feel?”
Cliff thought about it as the vampire at their feet drew his last breath and began to deteriorate. “Juiced. Relaxed. Relieved that I didn’t lose it completely and try to bail on you or something.”
“I knew you’d keep it together.”
“Yeah, but I really wanted to bite that guy. I mean, I wanted to rip his throat out.”
“Don’t let it disturb you. I feel the same thing every night. I’m not exactly what one would call even-tempered.”
At last, Cliff laughed. “I think you would bore Melanie if you were.”
Bastien knelt before the women.
Brow creased with concern, Cliff joined him. “Are they going to be okay?”
Both females had lost consciousness during the battle, but a quick listen to their pulse told Bastien they’d survive. Neither, thankfully, would remember the vampires’ attack. With the first bite, the glands that had formed above the fangs of vampires during their transformation would’ve delivered a chemical that acted like GHB in the system.
“They’ll be fine.” Bastien drew his cell phone out and dialed the network.
“Reordon.”
“It’s Bastien. Cliff and I found a couple of vampires feeding on two human women. Can you send a cleanup crew out here to see them home?”
“Sure. Where are you?”
Bastien gave him their location.
“How do you like hunting, Cliff?” Chris asked, knowing the young vampire could hear both ends of the conversation.
Cliff’s eyebrows flew up. “It’s weird.”
Chris laughed. “I know, right? Jack will be there in ten to take care of the women.”
The line went dead.
“That was weird, too,” Cliff said as Bastien tucked away his phone.
“What was?”
“Reordon’s asking me what I thought about hunting instead of asking you if I’d lost my shit.”
Bastien shrugged. Both questions would have accomplished the same goal—letting Chris know if Cliff had lost it during the fight—but this way Chris had left Cliff’s dignity intact. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’m actually starting to like that asshole.”
“Chris?”
“Yes.”
“Reordon’s a good guy,” Cliff said slowly. “He’s been really nice to me ever since the mercenaries got their hands on me.”
“Good. He should be. You saved a lot of lives that night.”
Cliff smiled.
“So,” Bastien said, “once the cleanup crew arrives, do you want to call it a night? Or are you up for more hunting?”
“More hunting,” Cliff chose with amusing enthusiasm.
Zach perched on Lisette’s roof, waiting for her to return home.
A long sigh escaped him. The shingles beneath him were beginning to acquire a shine only wear could deliver. He would have to find a new place to sit soon or his ass would end up going through the roof.
Gargoyle duty.
The description fit. He really did feel like a gargoyle tonight. Probably resembled one, too. He hadn’t taken the time to look in a mirror before he had teleported to Lisette’s side and ended her battle with the unusually powerful vampires.
He shifted, unable to get comfortable. Most of the wounds on his body had healed. His wings would need more time, though. The immortal black sheep had done a good job of splinting them. Zach supposed he would have to find a way to repay him. If Bastien didn’t betray Lisette to Seth.
A raccoon the size of a beagle waddled across the lawn below him.
Zach’s thoughts wandered to the scene that had greeted him when he had sensed Lisette was in danger and teleported to her, fearing the Others had found her.
Something about the vampires she and the younger immortal had fought hadn’t been right. Not the lanky ones who had already fallen by the time he’d arrived, but the other two.
Mentally he replayed the scene over and over again. Two immortals working together should have had no difficulty defeating two vampires. He had seen Lisette drop five in one skirmish. Two shouldn’t have even made her sweat.
Zach had given the vampires a quick scan, wondering at first if the two weren’t immortals who, like Bastien, had been overlooked by Seth. No advanced DNA had inhabited their forms. Zach had, however, found blank spots in their minds. While the vampiric virus did cause brain damage that resulted in blank spots, the ones he had found in the muscled vamps’ minds had been different. Their blank spots could only have been caused by one of two things: either memories had been buried so deeply that they would never rise again or memories had been completely erased.
Someone with strong telepathic abilities must have buried or erased those memories.
Someone other than Zach.
Over the shuffling steps of the raccoon and the multitude of croaking frogs that lingered in a nearby stream, he heard the low rumble of Lisette’s Hayabusa.
After Seth’s unjust accusation—and the torture Zach had endured as a result of Seth’s stealing his powers and planting a Come and Get ’im, Boys sign on Zach’s head for the Others—Zach had thought it would be fun to watch some unknown immortal with aspirations of grandeur try to destroy his or her leader and usurp his command.
The betrayal would tear Seth up inside.
Watching his Immortal Guardians suffer on his behalf would kill him.
Revenge would be so sweet.
Unfortunately, Zach had neglected to consider that Lisette would be caught in the crossfire. That she could suffer or be destroyed, too.
His pulse picked up as she turned onto her drive and headed toward the house.
The thought of offering Seth aid—look what the hell it had gotten Zach in the past—really chapped his ass. But Lisette . . .
A low sound rife with frustration vibrated his chest.
Damn it, he was going to have to say something. Either that or watch over her twenty-four hours a day until whatever happened happened. He wouldn’t let her come to harm. And Seth could go fuck himself if he didn’t like it.
Silently, Zach watched as she parked the Busa. Removing her helmet, she stowed it away, tilted her head back, and looked right at him. “What are you doing up there?”
He would’ve shrugged if his wings hadn’t been aching so much. “Waiting for you.”
“Why didn’t you wait inside? You should be resting.”
“I am resting.”
She pursed her lips.
“Being in your home when you were gone felt . . . wrong,” he admitted. Being in her home at all had felt wrong. Her home was warm and comfortable and welcoming. He could practically hear all of the laughter she and her brothers and their Seconds had shared beneath this roof.
That was foreign to him.
She waved him down. “Well, I’m home now, so let’s go inside.”
A strange fluttery feeling invaded his stomach and chest.
Zach teleported to the ground, appearing a
few feet away from her.
“You’re scowling,” she said.
Was that why her pulse had picked up? Did she fear him?
Zach endeavored to smooth his brow.
A tentative smile curled her full lips. “Better.” She motioned toward the steps that led up to the front porch. “Shall we?”
Still he hesitated.
Following her through that front door would be tantamount to giving up any plans for revenge. He couldn’t involve himself further in Lisette’s life and sit back and watch Seth fall. Lisette would gladly die trying to protect her leader.
The silence stretched.
Stepping closer to him, she reached out and took his hand.
Zach’s heart began to slam against his ribs as Lisette twined her slender fingers through his.
Her hand was so small and delicate within his. Her touch warm.
Giving his hand a light squeeze, she offered him a shy smile, turned, and led him into her home.
Chapter Five
Lisette wondered at her daring.
She could hear Zach’s heart pounding in his chest, nearly drowned out by her own heart’s attempts to burst from her breast. Did he feel the same thing she did? That sort of nervous, yet delicious excitement that she hadn’t felt since she was a girl embroiled in her first infatuation? It had been so long, she had almost forgotten how wonderful it was. How alive it made her feel. How . . . happy?
Zach was so much older. So powerful. He had no doubt seen and done things she couldn’t even imagine. Why would her touch make his pulse race?
Fatigue and weakness must surely be the cause.
“Have you eaten?” she asked him, trying hard to sound nonchalant.
“No.”
She glanced down at her bloody clothing, stiff and crusty in places where the wind had dried it on her way home. “Give me a minute, then I’ll fix us both something tasty.”
His fingers tightened around hers momentarily. Then, releasing her hand, he nodded.
“Make yourself at home.” Dashing downstairs, she entered her bedroom, tugged off her clothes, then slipped into the shower. Hot water sluiced down over her, rinsing the blood from her body. As steam rose around her, she tugged the tie from the end of her braid and unwound it.
She heard no movement above. Was Zach so quiet that even her sensitive ears couldn’t detect him?
Hell, for all she knew, he could be in her bedroom right now, peeking into the bathroom.
Spinning around, she rubbed the foggy condensation from the shower door and peered through the glass.
No tall, dark form blocked the doorway.
Grabbing the soap and washcloth, she gave her body a quick scrubbing.
Seconds later, the hot water rinsed the frothy lather from her skin and left her clean once more. A quick towel dry, followed by a frustrating competition between her comb and the tangles in her long, wet hair, and Lisette found herself standing before her open wardrobe, vacillating over what she should wear.
Something pretty? Or the usual combat-ready clothing?
Sighing, she chose the latter. She was already feeling oddly unsure of herself. Why wear something that might not inspire the response she wanted and would make things worse?
She refused to contemplate exactly what response she was hoping for and donned clean hunting togs. Black pants that rode low on her hips. A black T-shirt. She even added the socks and boots.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she shook her head. As a mortal and the daughter of a French aristocrat, she had worn corsets and layer upon layer of clothing, had stuffed her feet into fashionable shoes that had pinched and mangled her toes, had spent hours styling her hair since she had lacked the easy-to-use styling products available today, and more. It had been miserable. It had been ridiculously time-consuming. And she had looked lovely.
Now this. Most nights she didn’t mind dressing like a man, which was what wearing pants had been considered in those days. It was a hell of a lot more comfortable and far less trouble. But every once in a while, she missed feeling pretty and feminine.
Turning away from her reflection, she left the bedroom.
Upstairs she found Zach in the same place she had left him. While only a few minutes had passed, she had nevertheless expected him to at least seat himself in the living room.
“When I said make yourself at home,” she said, striding toward him, “I meant for you to have a seat in the living room and make yourself comfortable.”
He glanced at the living room. “Oh.”
She waited for more.
Nothing came.
He reminded her a bit of Roland in that moment. Maybe he was antisocial, too. Or, for whatever reason, simply wasn’t comfortable in social situations. He wouldn’t be the first shy immortal she had met. Alleck, the German immortal who visited the network periodically at Seth’s request to compare notes with Melanie, was about as shy as they came, and he was hundreds of years old. “Do you have a taste for anything in particular?” she asked as she headed into the large kitchen. She had a feeling if she hadn’t asked the question, he would have continued to stand near the front door.
Slowly, he followed. “No.”
She paused, fingers curled around the refrigerator door handle. “Do you need blood? I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask earlier.”
“No, thank you.” He frowned. “Did you give me blood while I was unconscious?”
“No. Should I have?” she asked, unable to abandon the suspicion that he wasn’t an immortal. Not like her and the rest of the Immortal Guardians anyway.
“No.” He had the most deliciously smooth, deep voice. “I’m an elder. I don’t need blood to heal.”
Which told her nothing. Seth didn’t need blood to heal either. She tried to recall if she had ever seen David infuse himself with blood and couldn’t.
Opening the door, she considered the packed-from-top-to-bottom refrigerator’s contents. (Tracy always kept it full enough to feed at least half a dozen.) Her brothers were big men, but weren’t big meat eaters. Étienne had once complained that he could eat a whole cow and still be hungry afterward. So they preferred vegetables and fruits that were more filling. Lisette was a carbohydrate fiend. She simply could not get enough pastas, breads, potatoes, etcetera. And fighting vampires burned a lot of energy.
“Would pasta be okay?” she asked. “Tracy just made a huge pot of chunky veggie pasta sauce, so it’ll be a quick and easy fix.”
Zach didn’t respond.
Glancing over her shoulder, she found him staring at her. “Zach?”
“I shouldn’t be here.”
She couldn’t place his accent. It was similar to Seth’s, which neither she nor her siblings had ever been able to identify. Eastern European? Egyptian? South African? Russian? She just couldn’t tell.
But Zach’s was a little softer, almost British.
“I thought we had already covered that,” she said.
“The Others will be looking for me.”
She drew the big pot of sauce from the fridge and set it on the stove. “Are you going to tell me who the others are?”
“No.”
“Because you’re the big, strong, silent type?” Common traits found in immortal males.
“Because they’ll kill you if they find out you know.”
A sobering thought. She turned on the burner.
“They’ll likely kill you if they find out you aided me as well.”
Well, hell. She had just thought he didn’t share because he liked his privacy.
“I shouldn’t have come here. I don’t even remember how I got here last night.”
“I’m not sure how you did either. I was asleep and only heard it.” She began filling a second pot with filtered water. “It sounded like you fell out of the sky, hit the roof hard, then rolled off onto the ground. I don’t know how you could have flown with your wings as damaged as they were, so maybe you teleported and miscalculated.” Richart had done that several times when
he was sorely wounded and couldn’t think straight. Not that long ago, when drugged by Dennis, her brother had accidentally teleported to his mortal girlfriend’s apartment instead of David’s house and outed himself as an immortal.
“I should go,” Zach announced.
Denial gripped her. “Can’t you just—I don’t know—block them or keep them from finding you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you doing it now?”
“Yes.”
“Then I don’t see any reason for concern. If they were going to find you, they would’ve done it while you were unconscious and would have already come and gone, wouldn’t they?” And slain them both, judging by his grim expression.
“I would’ve thought so, yes.”
“Then relax.” Lisette gestured to the table in the breakfast nook. “Have a seat. This won’t take long to prepare. And you must still be weary.” Shutting off the water, she set the pot on the stove and turned on the burner beneath it. Next she took down a big box of uncooked rigatoni from an upper cabinet.
“Why are you doing this?” Confusion colored Zach’s voice.
Lisette set the pasta down and gave him her full attention. “Doing what?”
He hesitated. “Helping me. Being . . . kind to me.”
Why indeed? She kept getting deeper and deeper and deeper into this . . . whatever this was. “You saved my life.”
His lips tilted up in a faint smile that seemed to reflect cynicism, relief, and disappointment all at once. “Ah. You feel obligated. I understand now.”
“Not obligated,” she corrected. “Grateful. And . . .”
“And?” he prompted.
“Don’t you know?” she asked curiously. “Haven’t you looked into my thoughts?”
“No.”
Interesting. Seth and David seemed to lack any reservations when it came to reading the minds of their charges. And, if she were honest, she and Étienne intruded on their friends’ thoughts far more often than they should. One would think Zach, perhaps the antithesis of Seth, would possess even fewer scruples.
Or did he lie?
Could he be testing her to see if she would tell him the truth?
Hell, what did she have to lose at this point?
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