“You can heal any wounds she incurs on your behalf. Cool. I say go for it. Especially if she’s hot.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
Not really. She just wanted him to find the same happiness she had.
Étienne appeared in the doorway. “How do I look?”
Krysta froze. Holy crap.
She had only ever seen him naked, in sweatpants, or in his hunting clothes. This . . .
She gave him a long, leisurely look from his neatly combed hair to his feet, encased in shiny shoes that probably cost more than a semester of Sean’s college tuition had.
His tall, broad-shouldered form was beautifully garbed in a black three-piece suit with silver pin stripes. A bright white shirt stood out starkly against his naturally tan, clean-shaven jaw. As she stared, he lifted his chin a bit and reached up to adjust a black and silver tie.
Daaaaaamn, he looked good.
“You’re drooling,” Sean drawled.
She nodded, never taking her gaze from Étienne. “Daaaaaamn, you look good.”
He grinned. “I do?”
“Really good. Like . . . edible good. In fact, Sean, if you wouldn’t mind giving us a few minutes alone . . .”
Étienne’s brown eyes flashed amber.
Sean sighed. “No offense, but this is one of the reasons I want my own place.”
She smiled, still drinking in her fiancé. “You look hot.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“It is for me,” she professed, looking him up and down again.
“I’m not overdressed, am I?”
Probably, but she wasn’t going to say anything. She wanted to spend the rest of the night, as Sean said, drooling over him. She’d just go put on something dressy herself to even things out.
“No. I haven’t changed yet. I’ll be ready in a couple of minutes.” As she moved to squeeze past him in the doorway, she rose onto her toes, looped her arms around his neck, and took his lips in a long, passionate, I-wish-I-could-strip-you-naked-and-have-my-way-with-you-right-here-right-now kiss.
He groaned when she pulled away.
“I mussed your hair,” she murmured and left him gazing after her with glowing eyes full of desire.
And adorably mussed hair.
Forty minutes later, his hair was once more tamed, she was squeezed into a little black dress and heels, and Sean wore slacks and a dress shirt. Together, the three strode up the sidewalk in front of a modest middle-class home parked on a nice-sized plot of land in the country outside of Carrboro.
When they reached the front porch, she turned to smile up at Étienne and did a double take. “Everything okay?”
“Yes,” he said, fidgeting inside his suit jacket and smoothing a lapel. “Why?”
“Your eyes are glowing.”
“They are?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Okay.” He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. His lids lifted. “What about now?”
“Still glowing.”
He swore, then closed his eyes again. Breathed deeply.
Sean caught her eye and raised his brows.
Krysta shrugged. No bulge strained against the front of Étienne’s slacks, so it wasn’t lust.
He opened his eyes. “What about now?”
“Still glowing.”
Again he swore and repeated the process.
“Sweetie, you aren’t nervous, are you?”
“Of course not.”
On the other side of him, Sean mouthed, “Yes, he is.”
This time, when Étienne’s lids lifted, they revealed warm brown eyes bereft of the glow. “Now?”
“You’re good.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
She rang the doorbell.
Footsteps approached from inside. The locks turned. The door swung open.
Krysta donned a bright smile. “Hi, Mom!”
Wings spread, Zach rode the breeze, swooping and twirling as he raced the motorcycle eating up the asphalt below.
The slender figure guiding it nearly scraped her knee on the pavement as she leaned into a curve, taking it far too fast. Her long, midnight braid flapped and danced in the wind, bouncing off the sheathed shoto swords strapped to her back.
Garbed all in black, she wasn’t wearing her long coat tonight and, no doubt, would have generated a great deal of attention if any other drivers on the road could keep up with her long enough to notice the multitude of weapons she bore.
Slowing, she turned onto David’s drive and stopped before the security gate.
Zach’s gaze lingered on her long legs, outlined nicely by fitted cargo pants, as she straddled the bike and typed in the code.
When the gate swung open, she shot forward once more.
Zach swept his wings down, propelling himself forward and following her progress through breaks in the trees that formed a canopy between them.
Completely distracted, he nearly crashed into a large owl. Feathers flew as the owl panicked. Talons threatened. Zach banked, reversed, dodged, and lost sight of Lisette. By the time he caught up with her, she had stowed her helmet away and was striding up the walk to David’s front door.
He waited until she entered, then spread his wings and gently floated down to the rooftop.
A heavy weight slammed into his middle, knocking the breath from him, breaking several ribs, and lifting him from the roof.
North Carolina vanished, replaced by icy tundra being swept clean by a blizzard.
Zach grunted in pain as his back slammed down into a glacial surface as hard as stone. Several bones in the wings he hadn’t had time to retract broke, snapping like twigs. Ice pellets peppered him, stinging like needles and abrading skin left bare save his usual leather pants.
Squinting against the white, he focused on the figure kneeling above him, face dark with fury, eyes glowing gold.
Seth.
“What—?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t know?” Seth bellowed over the howling winds. “Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?” His large hand closed around Zach’s throat and held him down.
Zach tried to teleport and couldn’t. Seth must be doing something to block or hamper his gifts.
“I warned you,” Seth said. “I warned you I’ve been exercising and growing my powers while you and the Others sat on your asses. Did you think I lied?”
When Zach opened his mouth to respond, Seth lifted him and slammed him against the ice again, breaking more bones in Zach’s wings.
“Just tell me why!”
“Why what?” Zach growled as agony overwhelmed him.
Lightning streaked through the sky and struck the glacier a few yards away.
He had never seen Seth so enraged.
“Don’t fuck with me! Why did you restore Donald and Nelson’s memories? Why did you help the mercenaries prey upon my Immortal Guardians?”
Zach shook his head, unable to speak past the fingers clutching his throat.
Roaring, Seth rose to his feet and waved an arm in a circle.
The wind ceased blowing. The snow it had been carrying fluttered down to the ground, settling upon Zach and decorating his eyelashes as silence engulfed them.
Shit. Seth could control the weather?
Zach started to rise, but found he couldn’t.
Seth held him in place telekinetically, his power a frightening and tangible force. “Only you or an Immortal Guardian could have done it. And my immortals wouldn’t betray me. Just tell me why you did it.”
Zach shook his head. “Your problem, Seth,” he gasped, “has always been . . . that you think yourself . . . invulnerable. Is it . . . so hard for you to believe . . . that one of your precious . . . Immortal Guardians might have betrayed you?”
“You deny it was you?”
“I deny nothing,” he snarled, his own fury now matching Seth’s.
“So be it.”
The blizzard resumed, wind whipping Seth’s long hair.
So quickly he appeared to vanish for a moment, Seth drew a dagger and—kneeling—plunged the blade into Zach’s chest an inch from his heart.
Pain shrieked through him.
Seth leaned in close and turned the blade, heightening Zach’s suffering. “Listen closely, Cousin. This is but a tiny fraction of the power I wield. Betray me again, endanger my Immortal Guardian family again, and I will destroy you. If the Others don’t like it and choose to confront me, they will meet the same fate.”
He rose while Zach struggled for breath.
“Stay away from Ami. Stay away from Lisette. Stay away from all of us.” He shook his head, his face full of scorn as his glowing gaze raked Zach. “What a fucking disappointment.”
He vanished.
The pressure holding Zach in place fell away.
Raising a shaking hand, Zach grasped the handle of the dagger and slowly pulled it from his chest.
It fell to the ground, staining the ice red.
He tried to teleport and found he couldn’t. Seth had done something to drain his powers.
Gritting his teeth, he sat up with a growl of agony and dragged his wings with him.
A shiver shook him.
He glanced around at the frozen landscape.
No structure or shelter in sight.
For the next several hours, until his broken wings healed enough to carry him home, Zach’s only company would be the anger festering inside him.
That and the satisfaction of knowing he wasn’t the one who had betrayed Seth.
Apparently, somewhere out there, an Immortal Guardian was plotting to take down his or her illustrious leader.
Étienne stared at Krysta’s mother and felt warmth fill him, easing some of his anxiety.
Opening the door wide, she waved them inside.
She was smaller than her daughter, standing no taller than five feet. Same slender build with slightly wider hips conservatively clothed in a floral-print dress. Shoulder-length, brown hair streaked with gray framed a friendly face that was the spitting image of Krysta’s, only hers bore faint laugh lines.
“Honey!” she called over her shoulder, “they’re here!” She hugged Krysta and Sean as a man, who was at least as tall as Étienne, joined them.
He, too, bore an athletic build, garbed in slacks and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled back. His black hair was cut short and showed gray at the temples. His expression was welcoming.
Smiling, he waited for his wife to get her hugs in, then claimed his own.
Krysta gave him a hearty embrace, then stepped back and took Étienne’s hand. “Mom, Dad, this is Étienne d’Alençon. Étienne, these are my parents, Evelyn and Martin Linz.”
Her mother smiled up at him. “Call me Evie.”
When she offered her hand, he took it and brought it to his lips. “A pleasure to meet you, Evie.” He offered his hand to Krysta’s father. “And you as well, Mr. Linz.”
“Call me Martin. Nice to meet you, Étienne.”
Étienne’s mind went blank. Two hundred plus years old and he found himself tongue-tied in the face of his fiancée’s parents.
Not surprising. He hadn’t formally courted a woman since his transformation.
Evie grinned up at her husband. “He reminds me of you, honey. So handsome.”
Heat stole up his neck.
Krysta’s eyes widened. “Are you blushing?”
“No,” he denied swiftly, sparking laughs.
Evie motioned for them to continue through the living room and into the den. “Come in and make yourself comfortable. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”
Martin smiled. “Can I get you something to drink, Étienne?”
“Yes, please. Whatever you’re having.”
Krysta raised her brows. It won’t relax you. Alcohol has no affect on us, she reminded him as Martin crossed to a small bar in one corner and poured them both a Scotch.
I thought refusing would seem odd, Étienne said. And I want to appear as human as possible.
“Krysta, do you want anything?” Martin asked.
“No, thanks, Dad.”
“Sean?”
“No, thanks.”
Martin returned and handed Étienne a glass.
Étienne ignored the urge to down it in one gulp and, instead, sipped it slowly.
Martin sipped his own, moving to stand beside his wife. “So. Should we assume by your presence here tonight that it’s all over?” he asked them.
Étienne looked at Krysta, not knowing what he meant.
She seemed just as confused. “All what?”
He motioned to the front of the house. “Whatever inspired you to station guards around the property.”
Étienne froze.
Krysta gaped. “You knew about that?”
They nodded.
“How?”
“Honey,” Evie said gently, “you know I have strong empathic abilities. I could sense them out there.”
Merde. How were they going to explain that?
“I can’t tell you how hard it was,” Evie added, “for me to refrain from taking them some sandwiches or soda or something to help them through the long, boring hours, but they didn’t seem to want us to know they were there.”
“Uh-huh,” Krysta muttered, apparently as at a loss as Étienne.
“So? What happened?”
Krysta swallowed audibly. “There was . . . a . . . uh . . .”
“Stalker,” Étienne blurted. “Krysta acquired an Internet stalker who lost his head over her beauty and cleverness and we feared he might harm you in his desire to get to her.”
Krysta sent him a relieved smile, then nodded somberly.
Sean pursed his lips and watched his parents.
Martin looked down at Evie. “I like him. He thinks fast on his feet.”
She nodded.
They knew he was bullshitting?
Hoping Krysta wouldn’t kick his ass later, Étienne did what he had sworn he wouldn’t do tonight and read her parents’ minds. He had intended to let them get to know him the regular way without peeking into their thoughts and using whatever he found there to manipulate them into liking him. But he needed to know what it was they thought they knew.
Evie proved to be as difficult to read as her daughter. But Martin . . .
Étienne sucked in a breath.
“What?” Krysta asked.
“They know.”
“Know what?”
“Everything.”
“About us? What, are you reading their minds?”
“Yes.”
She turned to her mother. “You know we’re engaged?”
Evie’s eyes widened. “You’re engaged?” Squealing, she yanked Krysta into a hug and jumped up and down. “My baby’s engaged! Congratulations! We just thought you were lovers.”
Sean laughed.
Étienne kept his eyes on their father.
Martin knew everything. He knew Krysta had spent the last six years hunting vampires, something she thought she had successfully kept from them. He knew Sean had helped her. He knew Étienne had saved her ass. More than once. He knew they had been battling soldiers. And he knew Étienne was immortal.
Sort of. He thought Étienne was a “good vampire.”
Evie released her daughter and hugged Étienne.
Surprised, he wrapped his arms around her and gingerly hugged her back.
“Congratulations,” she said.
“Thank you.” He met Martin’s gaze. “I wanted to seek your permission before I asked her, but circumstances were such that I could not,” he admitted. And, damn it, his accent had just gotten thicker and his speech had reverted to the more formal tones of his youth.
Krysta eyed him curiously. “Everything okay?”
Hell, no.
Her mother backed away, face still bright with a grin.
“Krysta,” Étienne asked (casually he hoped), “what did you say your parents’ gifts were?”
“My
mother is empathic and my dad is precognitive.”
“He can see the future?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Because he has been seeing yours quite clearly for some time now.”
She looked at Martin. “What do you mean?”
“They know you’ve been hunting vampires.”
Her parents nodded.
Krysta shook her head. “No, they don’t. No way.”
Sean cleared his throat. “Um . . . Krysta . . . Étienne just said they know you’ve been hunting vampires and they didn’t flinch or frown or make a cuckoo sign with their fingers. They nodded. I think that pretty much confirms it.”
Krysta kept shaking her head. “No. They would’ve stopped me.”
Her mother shrugged. “Why do you think we refused to pay your and Sean’s college tuition?”
“You didn’t refuse to pay it. You couldn’t pay it. You lost everything when the stock market tanked in 2008.”
Evie waved a hand in a pshaw gesture. “Martin saw that coming from a mile away, as well as the value it would regain over the next few years. We’re actually quite wealthy now. But we knew the only way we could reduce the time you spent risking your life hunting vampires was to ensure that you had to work as many hours as possible to cover rent and help Sean pay his tuition after you dropped out your junior year.”
Martin nodded. “I didn’t foresee Michael’s death, baby. I’m sorry.” He met Étienne’s gaze. “But I did foresee Étienne and how happy he would make you.” He smiled at Krysta. “If we had come up with a way to keep you from hunting vampires, you never would have met him. So we settled for doing what we could to limit your hours, so to speak.”
“You know I’m immortal,” Étienne asked, hardly able to believe it, “and still approve of our impending marriage?”
“Yes,” he responded simply.
Evie nodded. “So?” She turned to Krysta and Sean and rubbed her hands together with anticipation. “Let’s see ’em.”
Krysta and Sean exchanged a glance.
“See what?” Krysta asked.
“Your fangs.”
The siblings looked equally astonished.
“You know about that, too?” Sean asked.
She nodded. “I’ve been trying to get a glimpse of them ever since you arrived.”
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