“Maybe not this time, but . . .”
Perhaps she finally realized Sean was right.
The sounds of battle came over Richart’s line, carrying to Étienne’s sensitive ears.
“Yes?”
“Seth. Richart. Are you busy?”
“One moment.” The clang of metal striking metal reached them, accompanied by howls of pain. Many howls of pain. Then silence. “Not right now, no. What do you need?”
Étienne fought a smile.
“Sean collapsed after healing Krysta. Could you—?”
Seth appeared beside Richart, pocketing his phone. “Let me guess. Roland still hurls daggers at you whenever you teleport to his home.”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to have to talk to him about that.”
Richart looked at Étienne. “I’m going to head back to UNC.”
He nodded.
Richart vanished.
Seth approached the other side of the bed. “So. What happened?”
Krysta sniffed. “He was just finishing up healing the worst of my—”
“Not that,” Seth interrupted, resting a hand on Sean’s chest. “How were you injured?” His hand began to glow.
Chapter 14
Krysta stared.
Sean’s pale face rapidly regained color.
Seth removed his hand.
“That’s . . . that’s it?” she asked incredulously. It had only lasted seconds and Seth didn’t show any signs of fatigue at all.
“Yes,” he answered simply.
Unsure whether to believe him, she leaned down and pulled up Sean’s shirt. No wounds marred his skin where hers had opened on his flesh. No bullet wounds. No gashes. No bruises. Only dried blood. “That’s amazing.”
I told you he was powerful, Étienne said.
I know, but . . . damn. “Why isn’t he waking up?” she asked.
Even though Seth had healed him, Sean didn’t stir.
“He expended all of his energy to heal you. He needs rest, so I commanded him to do so.”
“Uh-huh. And, despite the whole unconscious thing, he’s obeying you?”
“It wasn’t that kind of command. You might say I forced sleep upon him.” Seth crossed his arms over his chest. “One more time. What happened?”
Krysta and Étienne took turns telling him what had happened.
The powerful leader of the Immortal Guardians did not seem pleased.
“First,” he said, “you two need to abandon your doubts and insecurities and just get together already. You’re so perfect for each other that you’re finishing each other’s sentences.”
Krysta looked at Étienne, who seemed as taken aback as she felt. “Really?”
“We finish each other’s sentences?” Étienne asked.
She hadn’t realized it either.
“Yes. Second, you left two vampires guarding Krysta?”
Étienne nodded. “It was a risk I had to take. Their thoughts indicated they could be trusted to at least do that much. They were scared shitless and looked to me to get them out of there alive.”
Krysta held up an index finger. “I personally didn’t think I needed a guard.”
“You did,” Seth said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Have Chris outfit you with a pair of Glock 18s with thirty-round clips like Lisette. Guns may not be your weapon of choice for taking out vampires, but they are good for holding off humans. You also should consider, once more, serving as a Second until this new mercenary threat has been extinguished.”
“No, thank you.”
He raised an imperious eyebrow. “You can see vampires coming and know their movements before they make them. But the auras of humans offer you no such warning, do they?”
“No,” she muttered, reluctant to admit it.
“I know you don’t like to hear it, but you are a liability, Krysta. Étienne already has to divide his attention between fighting and reading the minds of as many opponents as he can. Keeping an eye or ear out for you, too, distracts him even more. He could have been hurt far more seriously than he was tonight as a result.”
Her stomach sank as she turned to Étienne. “You were hurt?” Krysta gave him a quick once-over, but there was no way to know how much of the blood painting him was his. And his coat had already sported several bullet holes before the night had begun because he had neither replaced nor mended it after his last encounter with mercenaries. “Where? What happened?”
He glared at Seth. “I’m fine.”
Seth shook his head, strolled around, and placed a hand on Étienne’s chest. That hand began to glow as he healed Étienne’s wounds. “He was shot multiple times by the mercenaries and suffered a few deep gashes at the hands of the vampires before they decided to join forces with you.”
She hadn’t known. She hadn’t even guessed. How many of those injuries had he incurred while he was looking out for her? While he was distracted, listening to ensure the vampires hadn’t either turned on her or abandoned her?
“Don’t,” Étienne said.
“Don’t what?” She looked from him to Sean, lying so still on the bed.
“Krysta,” Étienne said.
All she could do was stare at him, feeling sick inside.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Cam look back and forth between them and clear his throat. “I, uh, I’m going to go see what the word is on the vamps you recruited tonight.” He backed out of the room.
Seth’s hand ceased glowing as he dropped it from Étienne’s chest. “And I am going to go see if you left any mercenaries alive.”
“I did.”
“Then I have some minds to read. Hopefully, when I’m finished, we will know who we are dealing with and how they learned about our existence so we can end this.”
He vanished.
When Étienne walked toward her, Krysta held up a hand to keep him at bay.
Étienne took that hand and carried her palm to his lips for a kiss. “Don’t.”
“You already said that.”
“You’re still doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“Beating yourself up. You were injured, too, you know.”
“But that wasn’t your fault,” she said, throat thick.
“Wasn’t it? How long did we walk and watch that campus? The mercenaries were likely there the whole time. But I forgot to use the damned infrared scope to check shadows too dark for my eyes to pierce.”
“Because I distracted you.”
“Because I’m accustomed to not needing it, to depending upon my own enhanced vision. Had I been more thorough, I would have known they were there, summoned aid, and captured them all alive without you suffering a single injury.”
“My being shot wasn’t your fault.”
“And my being shot wasn’t yours.”
“Sean collapsing was.”
“Sean knows his limits.”
“And I pushed him to those limits. You aren’t going to make me feel better about any of this.”
Étienne sighed. “Fine. Then make me feel better about it.” Tugging her hand, he brought her close and wrapped his arms around her.
Krysta leaned into him, locking her arms around his waist.
“I should be angry at you, but not for any of the reasons you think,” he muttered, resting his cheek on her head.
“Why?”
“You actually made me understand Bastien,” he grumbled.
“How so?” she asked, tired, lost.
“Bastien is not my favorite person. Despite what I learned about him recently, I have not been able to abandon my dislike for him entirely because he killed a friend of mine two hundred years ago. But there was a night—before I met you—when he thought the woman he loved had been killed and went berserk in the true sense of the word. He painted UNC red with blood and was coated with it himself by the time I came upon him. I thought he had gone mad. He was, for all intents and purposes, gone, wanting only to kill and punish. And, tonight, when I saw those bullets strike you, I wanted the same. I knew exactly how he felt.” His arms tightened around her. “I wanted to kill every mercenary, then kill every vampire for distracting me so much that I didn’t hear the damned mercenaries’ approach until it was too late. But I couldn’t. I had to think of the fucking greater good,” he said with such disgust that she found a laugh. “I had to take some of them alive.”