Darkness Rises ig-4

by Dianne Duvall

  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 l
eft? 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?”