by Lynsay Sands
Chapter Seven
The glowing red numbers of the digital clock on the bedside table read 12:06. Still deep night. She hadn't slept very long this time. Despite her dislike of the night shift, being on it for so long had affected her sleeping patterns, and Rachel knew right away she wasn't going to get back to sleep. Normally she'd be well into her work shift by this hour. . . and wishing she worked during the day.
Sitting up, she slid her feet to the floor and reached for the clothes lying across the foot of the bed. She had a vague recollection of Marguerite promising to collect more for her, and distinctly recalled murmuring something of an agreement to that, but she couldn't imagine why she'd agreed. She had no intention of staying here another day. She was going home.
While she had no idea what life held in store now, Bastien's explanations the night before had convinced her life had definitely changed.
Funny, while she was willing to admit that she had changed, she didn't feel any different. She still loved her family, and her goals and ambitions were the same. She wasn't really sure how she felt about being a vampire, but suspected she was going to have trouble. It was one thing to fantasize about never aging and living forever--though from what they had said, it wasn't necessarily forever-forever--but it was quite another thing to be faced with it.
Rachel had spent the night dreaming the world was moving around her at an accelerated pace. In her dream, faceless people had been milling about. They were born, grew up, and aged while she stood still, the Argeneaus at her back, none of them ever changing; watching those around them crumble into dust. And there were always others being born to take their places and die as well.
Pushing away the bleak dream and the concerns it brought to light, Rachel finished dressing. She left the room to find that, as it had been the first time she'd woken, the house was silent and still. Much to her relief, a light had been left on in the hallway though, making it easy to navigate the stairs. There was no one on the ground floor when she reached it--apparently Etienne's family had gone home. Working on instinct, she walked to the kitchen, not surprised to see the line of light beneath the door to the basement.
Rachel opened the door and headed down, determined to find her host. She was leaving. Now. Her footsteps slowed as she reached the bottom of the stairs, though, and recollections of her previous encounters with the man struck. Her earlier behavior left her squirming inside. How could she face him? She briefly considered leaving but couldn't move herself to be that rude. The man had saved her life, after all. Rachel wasn't yet sure she cared much for how he had saved her life, but save her he had. She owed it to him to at least offer thanks and let him know she was going.
Having convinced herself she could not in good conscience just flee, Rachel forced herself to continue on. The door was unlocked, and as she swung it open, Rachel noted that it was constructed wholly of metal and at least six inches thick. It made her think of a bank vault. High-tech security, she thought with distraction, then noticed Etienne sitting at the desk. He was rolling his wheeled chair between monitors, making adjustments then rolling back. He wasn't sleeping in the coffin tonight.
Her gaze shifted to that long box and she frowned at it, wondering if she would have to sleep in one as well. The idea wasn't appealing. Rachel had a touch of claustrophobia.
"Oh, you're up. "
She glanced at her host. He swung his chair around to face her and was smiling brightly. He seemed to smile a lot, she noticed. He was obviously a happy kind of guy. But then, why not? He was wealthy, good-looking, forever young, and apparently with few cares to burden him. Realizing that she was simply standing there staring, Rachel forced herself to smile and move forward. "What are you doing?"
"Working. " He turned back to his monitors and tapped a keyboard, changing the image. Rachel's eyes widened incredulously as she recognized the screen he brought up.
"Blood Lust?" she asked softly. Her eyes widened as the image finished forming. The title was made up of red letters which dripped away like blood. "Blood Lust Two!" she exclaimed. "I love the first version. I didn't know the second was out. "
"It isn't. Yet. "
"Yet?" Her gaze fixed to the monitor as the title page gave way to the production company logo; then her eyes shot to Etienne. "You aren't saying you're the creator?"
He nodded, his lips splitting in another grin.
"Wow. " She looked back at the monitor. "I had heard it was a Torontonian who designed it, but. . . " But she was rather shocked to find it was a vampire. The game was about vampires: bad ones and a lone female hunter out to destroy them.
"I've pretty much finished Blood Lust Two, except for the final battle," he answered. "I was just about to test play it for flaws or tweaks. Care to join me?"
Rachel hesitated, but not for long. She'd thank him and leave later. The opportunity to play an unreleased prototype to the second version of her favorite game was just too tempting.
"Well, if you designed Blood Lust, I suppose you can't be all bad," she said half-teasing. Settling in the chair he rolled across the room, she watched him sit back in his own again.
"Gee, thanks. " He sounded amused. Working his keyboard, he brought up the game.
"So, is this how Pokey figured out you were a vampire?" Rachel asked. His fingers danced across the keyboard. He was very fast. She was impressed. She herself was a hunt-and-pecker when it came to typing.
"Not exactly," he answered. "Though it might have given him some help. What really gave me away was the coffin, my habit of staying out of daylight, and the fact that I never seemed to eat. "
Rachel stared at him blankly, then asked in confusion, "But how did he know all that?"
Etienne shrugged, concentrating on what he was doing. "Pudge is a techie. I think he was jealous of my success. He kind of fixated on me and tried to get me to hire him, but I prefer working alone. " He grimaced. "The fellow hounded me for over a year. He even offered to work for free. When I still refused, he started following me about, breaking into the house when I was away and so on. I think he was trying to gather information, but I'm pretty sure what he learned isn't at all what he expected. " His words were a dry understatement. "It was apparently enough to convince him that he had to kill me and finish me off the traditional way. "
He was referring to Pudge's attempt to cut off his head, Rachel supposed. "Isn't staking the traditional way to kill a vampire?"
"Staking and cutting off the head," Etienne agreed. "I suppose he decided the stake wasn't really necessary. "
"Jeez. " Rachel grimaced. What would have happened had she not jumped between Etienne and the ax-wielding Pudge? In her mind, she visualized the man holding Etienne's dangling head from one hand, and she was glad she had prevented that. "This Pudge is a bit sick. "
"Yes. I think he needs mental help," Etienne agreed. "Actually, I know he does. "
"How? I mean, aside from the fact that he's tried to kill you countless times?" she asked in wry tones.
"I can't get into his mind to wipe his memory clean or control his actions. " When Rachel's gaze narrowed with sudden suspicion, he added, "No, I can't read your mind or control your behavior either, but in your case I'm sure it has nothing to do with insanity. "
Despite herself, Rachel smiled at his teasing tone. "So, there are some people you just can't read?" When he nodded, she suggested, "Then perhaps he's just like me, one of those people. "
Etienne shook his head. "I explained it wrong. I can get into his mind, but it's such a painful procedure. " He looked away and shrugged. "His thoughts are confused and murky. Fragmented is probably the best description. I couldn't make enough sense of his thoughts to do anything with them. Whereas with you, I simply can't read your thoughts. "
"Hmm. " Rachel considered, not sure she believed him. "Your mother doesn't seem to have any problem. "
"Don't remind me. " He sounded irritated.
"Why is it that she can and you
can't?" Rachel asked, though she wasn't sure that was the case. It would be less embarrassing to believe her earlier behavior was due to his mind control. Unfortunately, she couldn't convince herself.
Etienne didn't answer. "Here we go," he said, drawing her attention to the game screen. "Level one. "
Rachel watched the opening sequence in fascination, a smile of anticipation curving her lips. She was a secret video-game junkie and her work hours made a social life somewhat difficult, and so she had been known to waste hours playing them. The fact that Etienne was the creator of her favorite game raised him in her estimation. Gorgeous and brilliant? He was looking better by the moment, and he had looked pretty darned good at the start. Even as a corpse.
They played. Etienne was a stern taskmaster. There were no cheat codes allowed, and he wouldn't even give hints on what was coming next. He also insisted they couldn't use the sissy Easy level; they started and played on Expert, working as a team to hunt out and stake various meany vamps.
Rachel decided not to analyze the fact that the game was all about wiping out an evil vampire cadre. However, she couldn't help but wince every time she succeeded at dusting one of the villains. At last, Etienne noticed, and explained that these were "rogue vampires," not good ones like themselves. These guys liked to eat the old-fashioned way and took life doing it. She relaxed a bit then and really got into the game--to the point that when Etienne moved away for a minute, she hardly noticed until he set a mug by her hand.
Suddenly aware that she was thirsty, Rachel reached blindly for the mug and gulped down its contents. She then promptly spit it back. "Ewwww!" The tinny taste of cold, thick blood coated her tongue.
"Sorry. " Etienne didn't sound very sorry. He was chuckling as he took the mug and grabbed a box of Kleenex off the end of his desk. She cleaned up the blood that had not made it back into the mug. "It's an acquired taste. I should have warned you. "
Rachel grimaced and wiped her mouth. "I don't think I'm likely to acquire it anytime soon. "
"Hmm. " He looked troubled and drank from his own mug. Then, setting it aside, he said, "Well, if necessary we can feed you intravenously. "
Rachel heaved out a defeated breath. "That sounds. . . wimpy. "
He shrugged. "Inconvenient but manageable. Lissianna had to do it until recently. "
"Your sister?" Rachel was surprised. Lissianna had seemed a strong woman, not at all squeamish like Rachel was feeling.
Etienne nodded. "She's suffered hemophobia from childhood. The sight and smell of blood made her faint. The only way she could feed was biting or taking blood intravenously. "
"Biting? Wouldn't she taste it that way?"
"No. If you do it right, the teeth soak the blood in. It never touches your tongue. "
"Then why didn't she just bite bags, like you did today?"
"The sight made her faint too," he reminded. "And she can hardly go around stabbing her teeth blindly into blood bags. She might make a heck of a mess if her aim is off. Then, too, there is the smell," he added. "The moment your teeth sink into a blood bag, the scent wafts up. It's a particular smell, bagged blood. For the rest of us, it's not a problem, but it is for Lissianna. "
"I see," Rachel murmured, then became aware that he was frowning at her.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
Rachel considered. They'd been playing Blood Lust II for hours, and she couldn't even recall the last time she'd eaten. She didn't think she had since before Pudge attacked her. "I'm hungry. "
He nodded slowly. "I thought so. You look pale. Nothing will satisfy that hunger but blood. "
Rachel grimaced. "Don't you guys eat any food?"
"We. " He emphasized the word, reminding her that she was one of them now. "We certainly can and do eat food, especially while young. Children have to eat normal food as well as ingest blood to help muscle and bone grow. Those who don't are usually easy to tell--they're often stunted and emaciated. But after reaching adulthood, it isn't as necessary. After a hundred years or so, most grow tired of the hassle and sometimes even the taste, and they simply rely on blood with the occasional meal to help maintain muscle mass. Although Bastien is sure it isn't necessary. "
Rachel considered, then cleared her throat. "Well, that means I have roughly seventy years before I get tired of eating. "
Etienne managed a crooked smile. "I'll order something delivered from the deli. "
"Deli?" Rachel frowned and glanced at her wrist-watch--which of course wasn't there. "What time is it?"
"A little after ten a. m. "
"After ten?" she almost screeched. They'd played the night through and into morning. She supposed the saying was true that time flew when you were having fun. Still, it was hard to believe that they'd wasted the whole night.
"What would you like?" Etienne asked as he began to punch numbers into the phone on his desk.
Rachel thought, then asked for a Reuben, chips, and a Coke. She was really hungry, a feeling that was growing by the minute now that she was aware of it.
They played more Blood Lust II as they waited for the food to be delivered, but Rachel was distracted. She was relieved when the doorbell finally chimed, announcing the arrival of her order. Etienne excused himself and went to answer. Rachel knew he expected her to wait below in his office, but she just couldn't. Pausing the game, she followed him upstairs. She stepped into the kitchen just as he entered from the hallway, a deli bag in hand.
Rachel managed to control herself as he found her a plate and set out her food, but then she fell on the sandwich and chips with a ravenous hunger that was almost embarrassing. She didn't stop eating until she had consumed every last crumb and drunk every last drop of pop; then she sat back and frowned. Her stomach was full to bursting, yet her brain was still claiming she was hungry.
"You need blood," Etienne told her gently, seeming to realize her craving. "Bastien said you'd need a lot of it for a while. Your body is still changing. "
"I thought I was done. "
"Mostly done," he corrected. "There are still a couple of things left. "
"Like what?" she asked curiously. She wondered if he would mention orgasms.
"Your senses will sharpen. Your ability to smell is already improved, but it will grow keener. And your eyesight, of course. You'll be able to to see in the dark. "
"Your mother mentioned that," Rachel admitted. It didn't sound too bad. It was certainly better than facial lumps and bumps.
"Come. " He stood. "We'll fix you up with an intravenous. "
"I hate needles," Rachel complained, but she got reluctantly to her feet. "I mean I really hate them. I practically have a phobia. "
"You need more blood. You won't feel better until you get some," Etienne lectured. He led the way up the hall.
Rachel stuck out her tongue at his back, but she knew he was right--she needed more blood. Her body was positively clamoring for it in a way that was almost painful. It was becoming obvious that her plans to leave were scotched unless she could bring herself to down bags of cold blood, but the very idea made her shudder.
"Can't I just bite someone?" she asked. For some reason, the idea held more appeal than a cold Baggie--although not much more. "Of course, it would have to be someone I don't like. "
Etienne glanced back, mouth open, but paused when he caught her eyeing his neck. "Hey! I created Blood Lust, remember? Your favorite video game. "
"Yes, but you're also the one who turned me in the first place," she reminded him.
Apparently, Etienne didn't catch that she was teasing. Guilt crossed his face, and he looked apologetic. "I am sorry about that, but I couldn't let you die. "
It was simply no fun at all to tease someone so guilt-ridden. He obviously felt bad about the whole ordeal. Shrugging, Rachel moved past him and started up the stairs. "I'll get over it. I suppose this really is better than dead, right?"
Etienne's heavy sigh made Rachel pause and
turn back. She didn't like him all grim and unhappy like this. She hadn't really meant to make him feel bad. Jollying him out of it seemed the best way to fix things, so she smiled brightly and said, "So. . . since you don't want me to bite you, maybe I can go find my boss and bite him. He's the one who put me on the night shift for three years. "
Etienne looked uncertain. "It's daylight. "
Rachel arched her eyebrows. "I thought you said we could go out in the daylight?"
"We can, but then you'll need more blood to repair the damage sunlight does to you. Besides, biting really is something we try to avoid at all costs. "
"You know," Rachel said with mild disgust, "sometimes you seem lacking in a sense of humor. " She turned to continue up the stairs. "I was kidding about the biting bit. If I can't stomach biting a Baggie, I certainly wouldn't do much better with a live person. Sheesh. "
"Oh. I thought you might be joking, but I wasn't sure. "
Rachel laughed, not believing him for a minute. It didn't really matter, though; she had only been teasing him in an effort to distract herself from the idea of having to go through the intravenous deal again.
It had always amazed Rachel's family that she could work in the medical field yet still act like a baby when it came to shots and such. She'd grown better over the years. For instance, she no longer cried like a baby as it was done. Still, shots were a stressful ordeal for her. But she had too much pride to show fear to Etienne, so she suffered his hooking her up in silence and merely closed her eyes, hoping he would think her weary and not cowardly.
"Well. . . "
She opened her eyes and glanced at Etienne curiously. He had finished with the IV and now stood uncertainly by the bed, looking as if he weren't sure what to do next. Noting his gaze was fixed on her lips, she had the brief thought he was debating kissing her; then he gave himself a slight shake and moved away, muttering, "I'll be in my office. Wake me if you need anything. "
Rachel grimaced at the idea of his sleeping in that small dark box meant for the dead, but merely murmured good night and watched him leave.
The moment she was alone, she closed her eyes to avoid looking at the intravenous. Her mind wandered, immediately beginning to pull out images and sensations from earlier. She recalled in detail those passionate moments here on the bed with Etienne, every little sensation, every indrawn breath, but when the point came where Marguerite entered the room, Rachel's mind rebelliously made up its own scenario. Instead of being interrupted, the door stayed closed and Rachel found what her hand had been seeking. In her mind, Etienne was well endowed, as he had claimed. He was also as hard and smooth as a time-tempered stone, and. . .
Etienne sighed and shifted in his coffin, his mind full of images: He was back in his room. Rachel lay atop him, her breasts revealed to his hungry gaze, her hand slipping inside his slacks to curl warm and firm around his erection. He groaned, jerking in her hold, his body responding with eagerness. When her hand slid the length of him, he had to stop her or embarrass himself.
Growling deep in his throat, he bucked and shifted, rolling her onto her back in the bed, then rolling over her to take control of the situation. The abrupt shift startled Rachel into a gasp and made the top she wore gape open, revealing even more of her pale breasts. Taking advantage, Etienne dropped his head to lick the smooth, salty-sweet skin as he'd longed to do earlier.
Rachel bit her lip, biting back a moan and squirming, struggling to free the hands he held captured in his own. He knew she wanted to touch him back, wanted to caress him as well, but he didn't have the control at the moment to allow that--and he wanted her as excited and hungry for him as he was for her. Shifting, he took both of her hands in one of his, then reached down to remove his belt.
"I could help with that," Rachel offered, arching restlessly beneath him. He fumbled one-handed with the chore, merely smiling and shaking his head. At last he succeeded in removing the item of clothing, then wrapped it around her trapped hands, slid the end through the buckle, and pulled it tight.
"What are you doing?" Rachel gasped as he tied the belt to his headboard. "I don't--"
He silenced her protest with a kiss.
Rachel arched on the bed, her mind a jumble of confusion. Somehow her fantasy was barreling out of control. Things had been fine in this dream until Etienne turned the tables on her and rolled her onto her back, but now the fantasy was taking a path she had never expected--and she seemed helpless to stop it. Of course, Rachel wasn't sure she wanted to stop it, but the very fact that it was happening was bewildering. She was positive that she was alone in bed, dreaming, but she could feel Etienne against her in the darkness, could smell the musky cologne he wore, could taste the essence of him as his tongue thrust into her mouth. Bemused, she decided to just go with it. Allowing her mouth to widen, her own tongue slid out to join and tangle with his, and she tugged uselessly at the belt around her wrists in a vain effort to free herself to hold and touch him too.
She was gasping when his mouth left hers, panting with excitement but disappointed that he had broken the kiss. . . until his mouth traveled down her throat to the swell of her breast. Somehow the shirt she wore had come open, leaving her naked to his pleasure. Fortunately, his pleasure was her own. She cried out and arched back as he caressed and suckled first one breast, then the other. When he moved lower, his lips trailing down her belly, Rachel moaned and shuddered, very aware that his fingers were leading the way, trailing down over her hipbone, then down her outer leg and up her thigh.
Her legs seemed unsure what to do, and Rachel shifted restlessly beneath his caress. First her thighs pressed together, then they opened slightly, then they simply quivered and twitched beneath Etienne's fingers. Rachel wasn't much of a singer, but she suspected she hit a high C when his caress reached her center. She jerked, moaned, and twisted her head on the bed, especially when his mouth replaced his fingers.
She did very little thinking after that. The only cogent thought Rachel managed was that Etienne was damned good--but then, he'd had three hundred years of practice. Well, it showed. Rachel had never experienced anything like it. Etienne had said earlier that her senses weren't fully developed, but she was definitely experiencing something intense. Her pleasure was perhaps not twenty times what it had once been at its peak, but it was at least two- or threefold. It was almost scary. Almost.
The ringing of the phone woke Etienne. His eyes shot open, his mind and body immediately alert. Although his body appeared to have been already alert, if the erection he sported was anything to go by. Forcing himself to ignore the clamoring of his body, he pushed his coffin lid open and sat up. In the next moment, he crossed the room to snatch the phone.
"Hello?" he barked, unable to hide his annoyance.
Silence. Etienne listened for a moment, eyes narrowing as the dead air stretched, malevolent and angry. Then he guessed, "Pudge?"
A click as the line went dead was his answer. Etienne set the phone back with a troubled frown. The techie hadn't called since Etienne had told him in no uncertain terms he wasn't going to be hired; then the killing attempts had started. Yet Etienne was sure that had just been Pudge. He didn't know why the fellow had called, but he suspected it wasn't good.
He turned back to survey his coffin with irritation. The idea of getting back in wasn't appealing. His dream had wound him up. He was now too restless to sleep--at least alone in a dark, confining coffin. It suddenly didn't seem the cozy, comforting spot where he could think and plan, it just seemed cold and dark. And lonely.
Sighing, Etienne left his office and headed upstairs. He would check on Rachel and change her blood bag, then perhaps work for a while. He didn't think he'd get back to sleep anytime soon.
His guest was sound asleep when he reached her. She was also scowling. It was an expression he had seen on her face several times while awake, but he had never expected to see it while she was sleeping. What did it mean? He moved to the side of the bed
rather than to the refrigerator. The scowl was one of dissatisfaction, perhaps, for the bed was a tangled mess of sheets and blankets, half kicked aside, half twisted around her body. Rachel was obviously just as restless as he. Then he noticed that her hands rested above her head--in much the same position he had restrained them in his dream. The dream that had seemed so real.
Realization struck. Doubt immediately followed, however, and Etienne decided to test his hypothesis. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his mind. . . and immediately retracted his thoughts when, instead of the blank wall he usually encountered, he glimpsed Rachel's thoughts. It seemed her mind, which was firmly closed to him when she was awake, was wide open when she slept. Which meant the dream or fantasy he'd experienced had probably been a shared moment. Either he had been pulled into Rachel's dreams, or she had been pulled into his.
It didn't really matter who had started the episode, Etienne supposed. The most important fact was that, despite everything, Rachel was still attracted to him. There was no mistaking her little moans or her response to him--at least in dreams--as anything like repulsion or disgust. That was good. He was certainly attracted to her. It gave Etienne hope. Perhaps he wouldn't have to spend eternity without a life mate. Perhaps things would work out. It would take some time to find out for sure, however, and to get that time he would have to convince Rachel to remain here with him.
He supposed he could do the normal mortal dating thing: take her out, wine and dine her, seduce her. But there were complications. Pudge was one. Then, there was that she had to learn to live her life differently. Controlling her body's responses was one of the more important lessons she needed to master.
Walking to the refrigerator, Etienne fetched fresh blood, then moved to replace the nearly empty bag on the IV stand. Once that was accomplished, he peered down at Rachel again, finding himself reaching out to brush a tress of red hair away from her face and smiling when she sighed in her sleep and turned into his touch. He would find a way to make her stay with him. He wanted to protect her, though she didn't seem the kind who would take well to coddling.
After straightening the blankets and tugging them up to cover her, he quietly left the room. He had to marshal his thoughts and come up with a convincing argument to make her stay for a couple of weeks. And he had to work on convincing her to fall in with the family's suggestion she claim Pudge had kidnapped her. Pudge was still very much a threat, and Rachel still had a lot to learn.