He gave her an uneasy look. “I’m sorry. I have to do this.”
“Do what?”
He parted his lips.
She swallowed as fangs descended from his gums. Fangs he sank into the bag of blood.
Oh. Right. Gross.
I’m not drinking it, he spoke directly into her head.
She jumped. “Are you reading my thoughts again?”
No. Your face said it all.
“Oh. Sorry.”
While he continued to syphon the blood into his veins or whatever, she took his right arm and carefully raised it so she could get a look at his hand.
It was a mess of cuts and bruises and who knew how many broken bones. Her little house may be all wood and look like crap on the outside but it had been built to last. Étienne had punched through flooring and heavy support beams alike.
She looked up at him and found him watching her. “Does it hurt?”
He lowered the now-empty blood bag and gave her a wry smile. “Like a bitch.”
She grinned at his use of her words and shook her head. “You saved my life. Again.”
“After endangering it. Those men weren’t after you. They were after me.”
“And I’m expendable.”
“Apparently.”
“Who were they?” she asked.
“That’s what I intend to find out.”
Sheldon entered, his arms full of . . .
Krysta frowned. What the hell was that?
Stepping back, Étienne tossed the empty bag to John, then blurred.
Her eyebrows flew up when he stilled a second later, wearing only a T-shirt and boxers. The rest of his clothes formed a pile on the floor at his feet. “Wow.” She unabashedly ogled his powerful biceps and strong, muscled thighs dusted with dark hair.
Richart’s wife laughed.
Grinning, Étienne reached for the suit Sheldon held out to him. It reminded Krysta of a diving suit, except it appeared to have a rough texture, almost like that of a car tire.
Sheldon took another one to Richart, who rose. Both immortals blurred and donned the suits in only a second or two.
Sheldon himself donned a bulletproof vest and tugged on a helmet with a glass shield.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Richart demanded.
“With you.”
“The hell you are.”
“I’m your Second. Quit bitching and let me do my job.”
Étienne zipped from the room and returned with a mass of weapons. “Do you have any of the antidote?”
Sheldon shook his head, holstering a couple of Glock 18s with long-ass clips, then picking up an M16. “No. The threat was supposed to be over, so I didn’t reorder any when we started running low.”
The two brothers armed themselves in a blink.
“Where’s my suit,” Richart’s wife asked.
“You don’t have one,” Richart responded.
“She could use Lisette’s,” Sheldon suggested.
“No, she can’t,” Richart snapped, glaring at his Second.
“No, she can’t,” Sheldon parroted. “Because Lisette, uh, didn’t bring it back after the last time she—”
“This is still too new to you,” Richart told her. “You haven’t completed your training. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her lips. “Je t’ aime.”
“I love you, too.”
Crossing to Étienne, he clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Ready?”
Étienne nodded.
“Be careful!” Krysta blurted.
Étienne grinned as the two teleported away.
A second later, Richart reappeared, grabbed Sheldon’s shoulder, then they vanished.
Silence fell.
Krysta looked at John, then Richart’s wife. “I don’t know what’s happening.”
Richart’s wife smiled, though worry shadowed her eyes. “We don’t know much more than you do.” Rising, she approached Krysta and held out her hand. “I’m Jenna. Richart is my husband. And John, here, is my son.”
Krysta shook her hand. “Krysta.” She looked back and forth between John and Jenna, who looked as though they were about the same age. “I’m sorry. Did you say he was your son?”
Jenna laughed. “Yes. When I transformed, the virus healed all of the damage age had done to my body.” She pointed to the dark roots that stood out against her red hair. “See? No more gray. I look like a kid again.”
John shook his head and sent Krysta a wry smile. “It’s weird, right? I’m still trying to get used to it.”
Jenna motioned for Krysta to sit with her on the sofa. “Something tells me you’re the reason Étienne has been so distracted lately.”
“He’s been distracted?”
Jenna nodded. “Very.”
Good to know Krysta wasn’t the only one. Étienne had been a major player in her thoughts since that first night she’d encountered him. And her dreams. She hadn’t had many sex dreams in her life, but wow. She had had a couple of doozies since meeting Étienne.
“Oh, wait.” Jenna looked over her shoulder at her son. “John, toss me my phone.”
Krysta turned around in time to see John pick a cell phone up off the bar and sling it Jenna’s way.
Jenna caught it easily. “I’m sorry. I need to make a quick call.” She dialed and held the phone to her ear. “Darnell? Hi. It’s Jenna. Richart and Étienne are—” She tilted her head. “Oh, he did? . . . No, they made it here safely.” She looked at Krysta. “She made it safely, too . . . Our place . . . No, they put on protective suits and headed back with Sheldon . . .” She lowered the phone slightly and addressed Krysta. “Are you injured?”
“No.”
“She’s fine,” she said into the phone. “Okay. Bye.” She set the phone on the coffee table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think to ask you earlier. I’m still pretty new to this.”
“I’m totally new to this. New to the immortal thing, anyway.”
“Well, Darnell said Chris is on his way to your home with a small army. So Richart and Étienne will have help fighting whomever they’re fighting.”
Krysta nodded.
“John,” Jenna said with a smile, “you can go back to studying. They might be gone for a while.”
He nodded. “Nice to meet you, Krysta.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” she murmured, then turned back to Jenna.
Jenna smiled with pride. “He’s pre-med at UNC.”
“Oh. Great. My brother’s in med school there.” Alarm shot through her at the thought of Sean. “Oh, shit. My brother.”
Jenna leaned forward. “What about him?”
“We live together. Those men were looking for Étienne, but they found him at our house. Do you think they’ll go after Sean? Is Sean in danger?”
Brow furrowing, Jenna reached for her phone again and dialed. “Darnell? It’s Jenna again. Krysta has a brother and is worried he might be in danger . . . Oh. He did? . . . Okay, good. Thanks.”
She set her phone down again. “Chris took care of it.”
“Chris?” The same Chris Étienne expected to threaten her?
“Chris Reordon. Head of the East Coast division of the human network that aids immortals.”
Yep. Same one.
“He sent men over to guard your brother at work. No one will get near him.”
Krysta stared at her. Guard or interrogate? “Could I borrow your phone, please?”
“Of course.”
Krysta dialed Sean’s cell.
“Krys?” he answered almost immediately.
“Yeah. You okay?”
“Yeah.” He lowered his voice. “What the hell is going on? A bunch of Secret Service–looking guys showed up, pulled me aside, and said they’re friends of Étienne and are here to protect me.”
“They are.” She sure as hell hoped they were, anyway.