Darkness Rises

Page 27

She glanced back at the window. “You don’t know those guys?”
He stopped beside her and, avoiding the golden rays of sunshine that poured through the filmy curtains, peered outside.
“Careful,” she said, touching his arm and nudging him farther away from the light.
He smiled, warmed by her concern. “It’s all right. I won’t burst into flames. I’ll just sunburn in record time.”
“Will sunlight kill vampires?”
“Yes. Vampires can’t tolerate any level of sunlight. Immortals have greater tolerance to it because of our advanced DNA, but younger ones like me are still vulnerable.”
“Oh.”
He studied the faces of as many guards as he could see from this perspective. “I believe I’ve seen one or two of these men before, but have never spoken with them.”
“And yet they would die for you.”
He nodded. “It isn’t a one-way street. They know we risk our lives every night, hunting and destroying vampires who would prey upon them. There was a night not long ago when Richart, Lisette, and I, along with the other immortals you will meet later, risked our lives battling not vampires, but humans who would have killed or tortured every man you see out there.” He drew back from the window. “Couldn’t you sleep?”
She shook her head. “I always have trouble sleeping in a new place.”
“And the past few hours have been difficult.”
“Yes. So much has happened.” She shrugged. “I’m still having trouble processing it all. My mind is racing. And I keep obsessing over the stupidest things. Like how Sean and I are going to explain the crater in the living room floor and the bullet holes Sheldon said riddled every wall to our landlord.”
“Don’t worry about that. We’ll take care of it. We’re very good at cleaning up our messes.” He touched her shoulder, the silky material cool beneath his fingers, and guided her toward the sofa. “What you need right now is something that will take your mind off of everything so you can relax.” She sat down at his urging, the V-neck of her shirt giving him the briefest glimpse of shadowy cleavage. “And what I need is something to take my mind off of you in those pajamas.”
She smiled and fingered the neckline. “They really aren’t my style. I’m more of a sleep-shirt kind of girl.”
He groaned and sank onto his haunches to examine the DVDs lining the shelves beneath the large flat-screen TV. “Don’t put that image in my head.”
Krysta stared at his broad, muscled back and narrow waist, bare and totally drool-worthy, as was his chest when he faced her. “Tit for tat. I lost my ability to concentrate as soon as I turned and saw you wearing nothing but those sweatpants.”
Surely, he had heard her heart’s crazy antics.
He laughed.
She liked his laugh. Smooth and deep.
He chose a DVD and slipped it into the player. Rising, he grabbed the remote and joined her on the sofa.
And he didn’t leave any space between them. His hip pressed against hers as he draped his arm across the back cushion. “I keep telling myself to keep my distance, but . . .”
She nodded, leaning into his side. “I’m too tired to worry about it right now.” She smiled at the television. Monk?
He nodded. “It’s smart. It’s funny. And it advocates true love.”
“It’s a tragic love, though. His wife is dead.”
“Don’t most love affairs end tragically?” he asked, frowning at the screen.
“I don’t know. Your brother seems pretty happy.”
His face lightened. “Yes, he does. I didn’t see that coming.”
“If you tell me you’re psychic, too—”
He laughed. “I’m not.” Still smiling, he glanced down at her. “I didn’t see you coming either.”
Manic butterflies invaded her stomach as she licked lips suddenly gone dry.
The amber glow returned to his eyes as he followed the motion with his gaze.
The TV brightened with the menu for Monk.
He looked toward it.
Krysta sighed. She had been sure he was going to kiss her.
“I thought I would be pushing my luck if I did,” he murmured.
“Oh.” She didn’t even care that he was reading her thoughts again.
“I also thought you might need a little distance.”
She fought the urge to laugh. Their sides were glued together and his arm now rested across her shoulders, his fingers toying with her hair.
His lips twitched as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Note I said I thought you needed some distance. Tonight I find myself needing the opposite, so this was my compromise.”
She smiled. “I’ll take it.”
The show began.
“You didn’t say why you were up,” she mentioned. “Couldn’t you sleep?”
“No. Too many bodies nearby, moving and murmuring. I’m used to it only being Cam and I and sometimes my siblings.”
“Ah.”
A moment passed.
“And,” he continued, “I found myself obsessing over a thought.”
“What thought?”
“That, had I not arrived when I did last night, you likely would have died.”
“At Duke?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t refute it. He was right. Even had the mercenaries not shown up with guns blazing, she couldn’t have defeated that many vampires on her own.
“Doesn’t it bother you?” he asked.
“That I could have died?” she countered. “Of course. A lot. But I know every time I go out hunting that my death is a possible outcome.”
“Then why the hell do you do it?”
She thought a moment. “Because it needs to be done. Because it’s worth the risk. Because I promised myself a long time ago that I would kill every vampire on the planet or die trying.”
“It’s personal.”
“Yes.”
He said nothing, just returned his gaze to the screen.
“You aren’t going to call me a fool or demand I stop?”
“You aren’t a fool. I understand a need for vengeance.”
“And the other?” she asked.
“I believe I already tried to convince you to stop hunting. I don’t have the energy tonight to bang my head against a brick wall.”
She laughed. “To be continued, then?”
He smiled. “To be continued.”
She tore her gaze away from his handsome profile and stared at the screen. “Have you seen this episode?”
He nodded. “It’s one of my favorites.”
“I saw it once a few years ago, but can’t remember how the husband did it. Don’t tell me.”
He curled his hand over her shoulder and drew her a little closer. “I won’t.”
Resting her head in the crook of his shoulder, she drew her legs up onto the sofa and relaxed against him.
Etienne heard the front door open and close and didn’t bother to open his eyes. Cam had been coming and going throughout the afternoon, as quietly as a mortal could, so as not to disturb the duo slumbering on the sofa.
Krysta would have to watch the Monk episode they had begun another time. She had fallen asleep only fifteen minutes into it.
Unwinding at last himself, Etienne had lain back on the sofa, drawn his legs up, and managed to spoon his body around her without landing them both on the floor.
Damn, it felt good. Even better than holding her hand had as they had slept beside each other at her house.
He had really needed this. The more he thought about what had happened at Duke, the more panicked he felt. That many vampires would have defeated her and ended her reign as North Carolina’s—if not the world’s—most successful mortal vampire hunter. And, if by some miracle they hadn’t, the mercenaries who had come later would have likely thought her an immortal and tranqed her with a dose that would’ve been lethal to her.
Either way, she would have died.
Tightening his hold, he buried his face in her hair and breathed in her scent.
Something sharp pricked his neck just beneath his chin.
He stilled, opened his eyes.
Sean stood over them, his face set in stone, with one of Etienne’s own daggers in his hand, angled to slit Etienne’s throat.
Easy, Etienne spoke into his mind.
Sean’s eyes widened. “How did you do that?”
I’m telepathic. Speak softly so you won’t wake her. She had difficulty falling asleep.
“And you thought feeling her up would help?”
He sighed. If we’re going to do the keep-your-hands-off-my-sister thing, let me put her to bed first. Her bed, he stressed before Sean could suggest otherwise.
Sean withdrew the blade.
In one fluid motion, Etienne rose with Krysta in his arms. She stirred, but didn’t awaken.
Sean frowned. “What did you do to her? She’s usually a light sleeper.”
“Nothing. She’s just exhausted. Too little sleep and too many adrenaline rushes.”
Frowning, Sean followed him down to Lisette’s room, where Etienne laid Krysta on the bed and drew the covers up to her chin.
He turned to her brother and abandoned all hopes of getting any sleep today. “Let’s return to the living room, and I’ll bring you up to speed.”
Krysta was a nervous wreck on the ride to the meeting.
Cam drove while Sean sat in the passenger seat, scowling out the window.
Her brother wasn’t taking this very well. He was worried about her, afraid Etienne was screwing with her head (even more so now that he knew Etienne was a telepath), afraid the whole immortal versus vampire thing was bullshit, even though the concept of both being caused by a virus intrigued the medicine lover in him.
Krysta didn’t blame him. He had only had twenty-four hours to try to figure this out while she had known, or suspected, for two weeks now that Etienne was different.
And there was also the whole attraction thing that softened her toward Etienne.