Melanie wadded up the empty packages and tossed them into a wastebasket on the other side of the room.
“Nice,” Sean praised with a smile.
“Thanks. I imagine you have some questions.”
“About a hundred of them.”
Smiling, she motioned to a couple of chairs over by a desk. “What would you like to know first?”
He waited for her to sit, then seated himself beside her. “Well, I’ve always wanted to know why I can heal with my hands.”
She dropped the rest of the candy packages on the desk and leaned forward, her face lighting with interest. “You can heal with your hands?”
He nodded.
“That’s wonderful. Two gifted ones who are descendants of a powerful healer just came to our attention recently, but neither can heal with their hands.”
Cliff dragged a chair over to join them. “So, you can just lay hands on a wound and heal it?” He sat down. “That’s so cool. I wish I could do that.”
Stuart nodded as he pulled up another chair. “Me, too.” Seating himself, he surreptitiously reached toward the candy on the desk.
“Touch it and die,” Melanie warned without looking at him.
He snatched his hand back.
“Now,” she said. “You can heal with your hands because your DNA is very unique. Every human has forty-six DNA memo groups that provide the blueprint for his or her existence.”
“Okay,” Sean said.
“Gifted ones have seven thousand.”
“Awesome!” Stuart said. “I don’t know what that means.”
Sean wasn’t sure he did either. “Why?”
She shook her head. “We aren’t sure.”
Fascinated by the information he proceeded to acquire, Sean spent the next several hours alone in a room, conversing with a beautiful immortal and two curious, genial vampires with a fondness for practical jokes.
It was the strangest night of his life.
Étienne smiled faintly. He and Krysta sat on the edge of Davis Library’s roof at UNC Chapel Hill. It had taken some coaxing to get her to do it, and then to relax. Like many humans, she had a fear of heights.
It isn’t so much a fear of heights, she had said, as a fear of plunging to my death.
I won’t let you fall, he had vowed.
It meant a great deal to him that she had believed him, sitting down, then shakily scooting to the edge and dangling her legs over the side.
Tranquility embraced them, broken by a dog bark here, a cat yowl there, or the occasional vehicle passing on the street.
They had been hunting and training together for almost two weeks now while Sean studied with Dr. Lipton. Étienne had not enjoyed anything so much in decades.
Moments like this were his favorites.
Her shoulder pressed against his arm. Her scent enveloped him, mingling with the chicken sandwiches Cam had made them. Her mere presence provided a balm he hadn’t realized he had needed. Calming. Comforting. Dispelling the emptiness inside him.
“I love hunting with you,” she said, reaching for the bottle of tea on her other side.
His pulse leapt.
“I haven’t eaten this much or this well since I lived with my parents,” she continued with a wry smile.
He laughed. For a moment, he had thought—
Her eyes widened as alarm rippled across her moonlit features. “Oh, crap. My parents!”
“What about them?”
“What if the mercenaries go after them to get to me. Or to get to you through me?”
He waved a hand. “Chris took care of that when you and Sean moved in with me. Your parents are heavily guarded at all times.”
“Really?” Frowning, she took another bite and chewed it thoughtfully. “I’m surprised they haven’t called. What did they say about it? I haven’t talked to them in almost three weeks. Mom has a knack for sensing when something is wrong and I didn’t know what to say to her when she asked what was up.”
“They don’t know about the network guards. Chris’s men are in stealth mode.”
She took another bite.
He liked that she had a strong appetite. He didn’t know why he enjoyed watching her eat so much, but he did. Perhaps because he knew she and Sean had had some lean times.
“No one has approached my parents? No mercenaries? No suspicious characters?”
“No one.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“We don’t know. None of us have encountered any mercenaries since they hit your house. We don’t know if that means they’re regrouping, or have given up, or what. We don’t know who these mercenaries are, how large their PMC is, who leads them . . .”
“What’s a PMC?”
“Private Military Company.”
“Oh.”
“If they’re a small group, perhaps we did enough damage to make them rethink things. If they aren’t, they’re probably plotting something.”
“Hmm.”
More quiet, comfortable, soothing.
“This sandwich is really good.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”
“There are definite perks to hunting with you.”
And there were perks to hunting with her. Like spending hours and hours together every night. Getting to brush up against her and steal kisses and—
Think about something else. Something guaranteed to keep you from getting turned on. “Your parents,” he blurted.
Raising her eyebrows, she finished the last bite and tucked the empty tea bottle into their dinner bag. “What about them?”
“Which one of them is a gifted one?”
“Both.”
“Really?” That was pretty rare in this century. “That must be why your gifts and your brother’s are stronger than that of other gifted ones in your generation.”
She nodded. “My mom can feel other people’s emotions and my dad can sometimes see the future.”
“Bastien can feel other people’s emotions.”
“The immortal everyone hates?”
“Yes.”
“Sean likes him.”
Étienne sighed. “Bastien has his moments.”
Several minutes passed.
Krysta looked at her watch. “We still have a few hours of hunting left and nothing much is happening. You want to make out a little?”
He laughed in surprised delight. “You’re a saucy wench, aren’t you?”
“Hey, when I want something, I go for it.”
His body hardened. “And you want me?”
“Yes.” She studied him intently. “Your eyes are glowing.”
“I want you, too.”
A breeze ruffled her hair, bringing with it the scent of blood.
He swore. “But, yet again, it looks like it’s time to go to work.”
“What is it?”
“Vampires, heading this way from the north.”
He stood, brushed the crumbs from his lap, then held his hand out to her.
She curled her small fingers around his and stood, hastily moving away from the roof’s edge. “Thank you.”
He brought her hand to his lips for a kiss.
She smiled. “You are so hot.”
“Don’t distract me, minx.”
She laughed. “Are we going to do this your way or my way?”
They had alternated between using Krysta as bait and hunting Étienne-style, which pretty much just entailed patrolling this campus or that and pouncing on any vampires they found.
Both got the job done. Unfortunately, neither reduced the danger to Krysta. No matter how many vamps they fought or how the battles began, she ended up wounded and in need of her brother’s healing hands. Both siblings seemed pleased, insisting she suffered far fewer wounds when she fought with Étienne. But it frustrated him that he couldn’t prevent the injuries entirely.