He sighed. He could always wait until Krysta drifted off, then sleep on the floor. That would probably be the more comfortable solution.
He heard bedding rustle and closed his eyes, trying not to picture Krysta sprawled across the covers under other, less appropriate circumstances.
She laughed.
Opening his eyes, he glanced at the doorway.
She was leaning over in bed, peeking at him. “Comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you.”
She shook her head. “You’re lying.”
“With good intentions.”
Still grinning, she waved him toward her. “Go ahead and come sleep in here with me.”
His body went rock hard at the notion even though he knew damned well she didn’t mean it the way he wanted her to mean it.
“I . . .” want to rip your clothes off with my teeth, so I don’t think it would be a good idea. “That’s very kind of you, but . . .” I really do want to rip your clothes off with my teeth and explore every inch of your beautiful body. “I’m fine.”
“Your legs are hanging off the end by a good foot and a half and I can’t even sleep on that lumpy piece of crap when I’m drunk.”
He smiled. “I’ve slept on worse surfaces.”
“Have you ever slept in a coffin?”
“Yes, but only as a practical joke.”
“What about in a crypt?”
“More than once when it took me longer than expected to track down a nasty vampire and I couldn’t find any other shelter before the sun rose.”
“Was the crypt more comfortable than my futon?”
He grinned. “Hands down.”
Again she laughed. “Then get in here. We’re adults. We can do this.”
He couldn’t find the strength to refuse. “Merci.” Rising, he strode into her room and circled the bed. “I’m surprised you trust me enough to sleep beside me.”
“To be honest, I am, too. You really aren’t going to bite me?”
“No.” He settled beside her on top of the covers.
“Any plans to cop a feel?”
Her scent enveloped him as he turned his head to stare at her. “Would you mind if I did?”
“I’m still considering that one.”
Yes. This was definitely a bad idea.
“What is it about you that makes me want to forget what you are,” she asked softly, “that makes me believe you are what you are and not one of the vampires I hate so much?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps the same thing about you that makes me want to believe you won’t drive a stake through my heart or chop off my head as soon as I doze off.”
Curling onto her side to face him, she raised one hand and drew delicate fingers down his cheek as her gaze roved his face. “Truce?”
“Truce.”
“Good night, Étienne.”
Heart racing, he clasped her fingers and brought them to his lips. “Good night, Krysta.”
She fell asleep holding his hand.
He wanted to stay awake and savor that. The sweetness of it. But the healing sleep swiftly claimed him.
Étienne dreamed vampires hunted him.
No. The vampires hunted Krysta. And the dream was hers. He could always tell when someone else’s dream became his because he first saw them from that person’s perspective. And he wasn’t a slender, significantly shorter woman.
Usually, he could separate himself from the dreamer and participate as he would in his own dreams. He had never been able to do that when Ami’s dreams had seized him. He had been as much a victim of the atrocities committed against her as she had in those dreams and often dreaded sleeping when he stayed the day at David’s.
As Krysta confronted the vampires and began to swing her shoto swords, Étienne left her form and joined in the fight as himself.
She grinned when she saw him. “About time!” she quipped.
Étienne laughed and engaged the vamps, who were much more organized and swung their weapons with greater control and accuracy in the dream.
A dozen vampires fell. Two dozen replaced them.
Then Sean arrived and was somehow thrust into the middle of everything.
Krysta’s brother had skills. But—without whatever edge Krysta’s ability to see auras gave her—he fared badly, accumulating wound after wound as Krysta fought to get to his side.
The more panicked she became, the more wounds she suffered and the weaker she grew.
Étienne couldn’t reach her. Every time he cut down one vampire a second took his place.
One vamp disarmed and captured Sean. Pulling him back against his chest, the vampire sent Krysta a cruel smile.
“Kill him!” the others cried.
“No!” Krysta screamed.
“Remember, the male is the one we’re after,” another voice said softly, strangely calm amidst the slaverings of the vampires. “We want the immortal alive. The human female is expendable.”
What?
“Don’t hurt him!” Krysta begged, her eyes still on her brother. “Please!”
“Rendezvous with target in one mile,” the same calm voice announced.
Étienne stopped fighting. Something was wrong.
The vampires converged upon Krysta, yelling and taunting. None spoke with the voice Étienne had heard.
The vampire holding Sean began to sing in a falsetto voice, “I feel pretty! Oh, so pretty! I feel pretty and witty and gaaaaaay!”
What the hell was with that song?
Krysta vanished.
Frowning, Étienne spun in a circle. “Krysta?”
“Étienne?”
“Where are you?” He resumed fighting, doing his damnedest to reach her brother while the vamp who held him continued to sing in that weird high voice.
“Étienne!”
He looked around, but still couldn’t find her. “Krysta?”
“Étienne! Wake up!”
He jerked awake.
Krysta knelt beside him on the bed, shaking the hell out of him. “Jeeze. It’s a good thing I didn’t want to stake you. You would have slept right through it!”
Groaning, he sat up. “I sleep deeper when I’m healing. What’s wrong?”
“Your cell phone has been ringing like crazy and that damned song is making me mental.”
When the singing started up again, he yanked his phone out of his pocket and answered.
“Yes?”
“We have a serious problem,” Chris Reordon said without preamble.
Damn it. “No, we don’t. I—”
“Richart told me you left quite a mess at Duke tonight.”
Étienne frowned. “Yes.”
“So we have a problem. I sent my cleaning crew over there ASAP and they didn’t find dick.”
Étienne stood, alarm striking. “What?”
“There was nothing. No bodies. No blood. No vampire clothing or bling. No dental fillings or caps. No humans freaking out. Nada.”
“That’s not possible. There should have been a couple dozen bodies—”
“There weren’t. There was, however, a large area of wet pavement where no sprinklers could reach. And the surveillance tapes for the security cameras in that area of the campus are all gone.”
Étienne swore.
“Exactly. Where are you? Are you still with the woman?”
“Yes, but—”
“Hang up, call Richart, and have him teleport you to safety.”
“That isn’t—”
“You aren’t getting it. The group that attacked you now has the surveillance tapes. They also have connections or they wouldn’t have been able to clean that mess up so quickly. They can use the tapes to trace the license plate on her car. They probably already know where you are. Get the hell out of there. Now.”