Darkness Rises

Chapter 8

Richart, Étienne, and Sheldon crouched in the crawl space beneath Krysta’s house. Bullets still whizzed past overhead, and damned if it didn’t look like a grenade had exploded in the small kitchen. Something had blown a hole in the floor over there.

Sheldon gaped at the chaos above them.

“Can you believe this shit?” Étienne muttered.

Richart shook his head. “How much damage do they think we can take?”

“A hell of a lot, apparently, but they must know Krysta can’t.” Fury ignited within him.

The ground beneath the house was uneven, so the crawl space was about five and a half feet high on one side of the house and only about a foot high on the other.

Richart stuck close to the ground and crept over to the vertical wood slats that enclosed them. “Come here.”

Étienne crawled over to him, Sheldon at his side.

“See? There in the trees just off the yard. There. And there. They have the house surrounded.”

“Stupid bastards are risking shooting each other through the house.”

Richart chuckled. “That would be convenient.”

“There’s a farmhouse in the distance there, beyond the trees. If you teleport us there, we can come up behind them and take them out instead of bursting out of this place and giving them instant targets.”

“Sounds good.” Richart looked at him a moment. “Is Krysta the reason you’ve been so distracted lately?”

“Yes.”

“I know you’re pissed that they put her in danger, but don’t follow Bastien’s example. Try to leave a couple alive for questioning and read the mind of every man you can before you kill the rest.”

“If I must.”

The brothers reluctantly donned the head coverings, which looked like rubber ski masks, then added shades and gloves.

“I hate this shit.”

Richart nodded. “Makes me feel like I’m suffocating.”

“Let’s do this fast, then.”

“Wait,” Sheldon said. “What do you want me to do?”

Étienne and Richart looked at each other and said, “Stay here and keep them busy.”

Sheldon frowned. “Kinda boring, but I’ll make it work.”

Shaking his head, Richart touched Étienne’s shoulder.

Sunlight bathed them as they appeared beside the farmhouse. In unison, they stepped back into the shade.

As younger immortals, they could not tolerate full sunlight without wearing the protective suits the network had designed. They wouldn’t burst into flames or explode the way movie vampires did. They would instead quickly begin to sunburn, and things would go downhill from there.

Older immortals, at full strength, could withstand several minutes before they would begin to suffer consequences. David could endure several hours. Seth was completely unaffected by daylight.

Étienne envied him as he shifted in the uncomfortable suit. Damn thing chafed. “You take the west and north. I’ll come up behind them on the east and sweep around to the south.”

“Be careful.” Richart vanished.

Étienne raced eastward, entered the trees, and circled around to head back toward Krysta’s house. Whoever this new group hunting immortals and vampires was, they were well funded and large. There were at least two dozen soldiers on this side of the house, arcing around to the south.

Someone on the other side cried out.

Étienne smiled. Richart had already gone to work. And few could compete with him in combat. How could you shoot or stab what kept disappearing?

Étienne swooped down on five soldiers who seemed intent on filling this side of the house with enough holes to make the damned walls collapse. Their thoughts focused on shooting blindly into the house, wondering if anyone was actually in the house, if this was just a bullshit mission, and if the guy who had just cried out had been hit by friendly fire.

The fact that the latter didn’t seem to bother them much spoke volumes about their character.

Knowing the immortals needed information, Étienne tamped down his desire to make these pricks pay for trying to kill Krysta and knocked the first two unconscious. The other three spun around.

He caught a fleeting Holy shit! Vampires are real! thought before he accidentally hit the third one too hard and killed him.

The last two turned their weapons on him. Blood spurted from their chests as they jerked and danced like marionettes on strings and dropped their aim. One squeezed and held the trigger. A couple of mercenaries to the south cried out as they were hit.

Étienne heard Sheldon whoop and credited him with the hits. Don’t get cocky, he spoke into Sheldon’s mind. Stay low and stay mobile.

“Dude,” Sheldon said over the racket, “stay out of my head. You startled me so badly I nearly shot myself in the foot.”

In the distance, Richart laughed.

Smiling, Étienne shook his head.

A quick scan of the mercenaries’ minds as they fell and breathed their last told him nothing of their employers.

Determined to come out of this with something, he made his way to the south, taking out soldiers as he went. Thanks to the jackass who had shot his colleagues, several of the soldiers were looking his way as Étienne swept toward them. A few got in lucky shots. One managed to tranq him. But the antidote he had taken earlier, once injected, not only countered the effects of the drug already in his system, it had a prophylactic effect, protecting him from reaction to further exposure for several hours.

Fortunately for him, it still worked.

Étienne wasn’t used to taking prisoners and kept instinctively striking killing blows.

Sheldon apparently hadn’t mastered the shoot-to-wound mind-set either, killing as many as Étienne did. The boy may not be the brightest bulb, but he was damned proficient with a weapon.

Are you helping Richart at all? Étienne risked asking. His brother had not been dosed with the antidote. If he were hit with a tranquilizer dart, he would lose a lot of speed and strength. If he were hit with enough, he would go down.

“Richart doesn’t need help. He keeps popping up between two groups and the stupid bastards are panicking and shooting each other.”

Nevertheless, keep checking on him. He doesn’t have the antidote.

Sheldon laughed. “One of them just tranqed himself. Dumbass.”

Shaking his head, Étienne ignored the wounds opening on his body as bullets tore through flesh.

Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyrie” rose in the distance, the music swelling as the whup-whup-whup of a helicopter approached.

“What the hell is that?” one of the mercenaries demanded, firing his weapon at Étienne as he looked up into the trees.

Étienne smiled. “The cavalry.” He knocked the firearm from the distracted man’s hand and punched him hard enough to give him a concussion.

The man dropped like a stone. As did two of his comrades.

The branches above Étienne began to thrash and sway as a Black Hawk helicopter slowed and hovered overhead. Ropes fell to the ground. Soldiers in green camouflage tumbled from the open doors and slid down the lines to land fluidly on their feet.

A blond—just under six feet tall—issued orders with hand signals, sending half the troops to Richart’s side of the house, then leading the rest to Étienne.

And still the music roared.

Bodies in a ready-for-anything crouch, tranquilizer guns loaded with the human dose of the tranquilizer aimed and ready to fire, network soldiers nodded to Étienne as they flowed past him.

Mercenaries dropped like flies as tranquilizer darts found vulnerable throats.

Shaded by the trees, Étienne tugged off his protective shades, head covering, and gloves, and smiled as the blond strolled toward him. “You do like to make an entrance, don’t you?”

Chris Reordon grinned. “May as well have fun with it. Besides, it will help me with the coverup. Any calls the neighbors make to nine-one-one will be intercepted and they’ll be told we’re filming a movie.”

“That won’t attract spectators?”

He shrugged. “If it does, my guys will steer them away.”

The walkie-talkie on his shoulder squawked. “Location secure,” a tinny voice declared. “Targets down.”

Chris reached up and pressed a button. “Set up a perimeter and stay sharp. If they repeat last night’s performance, they’ll have a second team sweep in shortly.”

“Yes, sir.”

The network guards began to check the downed men and call out their conditions.

“Dead.”

“Dead.”

“Dead.”

“Dead.”

Chris frowned at Étienne.

Étienne pursed his lips. He thought he had left some alive.

“Dead.”

“Alive. Pulse thready. Pupils blown.”

“Same with this one.”

Chris sighed heavily.

“What?” Étienne asked, beginning to feel defensive. “What does that mean?”

“It means you hit them too hard.”

“Well, I’m not used to fighting humans.”

“You spar with Cameron all the time.”

“No, I don’t. I spar with immortals. Cam spars with other Seconds.”

“But you’ve fought humans in the past. Hell, we just fought a minor war with them.”

“And we fought to kill. Vampires can take a punch. I can fight to wound them, crack their skulls, and they’ll recover. How the hell would I know how hard I can hit a human?”

Chris was silent for a moment. “Okay, I see this is going to be a problem.”

“Dead,” another guard called.

“Dead. Sheesh. What the hell did you do to this guy?”

Étienne winced.

Richart approached—tugging off his own shades, head covering, and gloves—and stood next to Étienne. He was pretty blood-splattered. Had he run into the same problem?

“Did you get anything from their thoughts?” Richart asked.

Étienne shook his head, frowning as Richart weaved on his feet. “Are you wounded?”

“Huh?” He glanced down. “I don’t think so. Maybe. A couple of gunshots. Why?”

Sheldon walked up, looking as though he had rolled in a puddle of mud. Reaching up, he yanked a tranquilizer dart from Richart’s upper back. “Dude, are you okay?”

Chris reached into one of the pockets on his thigh and drew out an autoinjector full of the antidote. Flicking off the lid, he jabbed it into Richart’s neck.

Étienne took his brother’s arm and steadied him until it kicked in. He gave Sheldon a once-over. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Some asshole shot the hot water tank. The water spilled down into the crawl space and muddied the shallow end. I had to take cover there after they figured out someone was shooting from the house.”

Richart straightened.

“Better?” Étienne asked.

He nodded.

“Did you leave any men alive?” Chris asked.

Richart sent him a sheepish look. “Yes, but your men seem to think I scrambled their brains.”

Grumbling, Chris took out his cell phone and dialed. “Seth? Chris. You have a minute?”

The leader of the Immortal Guardians appeared beside Étienne, pocketing his cell phone. “What’s . . . up?” He glanced around and swore. “Mercenaries?”

“Yes,” Étienne, Richart, Sheldon, and Chris responded.

Seth studied the house, the grounds, the bodies. He returned his attention to the younger immortals. “Go home. Rest. And be at David’s an hour after sunset tonight.”

Étienne looked at his brother. “Don’t you want us to stay and tell you—?”

“I know what happened. Go home. And, Étienne, when you come to the meeting tonight, bring the woman.”

Merde. Had he read Étienne’s thoughts and seen Krysta? Seth was so powerful that he could do so without Étienne even knowing it.

“What about the brother?” Chris asked. “What do you want us to do with him?”

Seth eyed Étienne. “Will you be going home or staying with Richart today?”

Étienne consulted Richart. “Can you teleport us to my place?”

“Yes.”

He turned back to Seth. “Home.”

Seth nodded and told Chris, “When her brother gets off work, provided no one comes looking for him before then, take him to Étienne’s home. Ensure you aren’t followed and can’t be tracked. Station guards outside the home and around the property’s perimeter.”

“Is that really necessary?” Étienne asked.

“Which part?”

“The guards.”

“Yes.”

He didn’t like it, but said nothing. One didn’t argue with Seth.

Frowning, Seth looked up at the helicopter, made a brief motion with his hand, and stopped the music. “Show’s over.”

Chris motioned for the helo to land.

“Go home,” Seth instructed the d’Alençons.

“Should I bring the brother to the meeting?” Étienne asked.

“Yes,” Chris answered, monitoring the cleanup.

Étienne looked to Seth.

Seth nodded.

Richart touched Étienne’s shoulder.

Krysta listened with amazement as Jenna described her recent courtship with Richart, which had been a bizarre combination of conventional and unconventional.

The tale helped calm Krysta’s nerves. As well as her fears. Jenna seemed so human. So normal. She’d been a single mom, struggling to put a son she’d had way too young through college, when she had met Richart. Her concerns seemed so not paranormal. And her love for Richart so sweet. Still fresh and new.

Krysta actually found herself envying the woman.

Very unsettling.

Richart and Étienne suddenly appeared a few feet away.

Heart slamming against her ribs—and not just because it startled her—Krysta leapt to her feet.

Jenna did, too. Hurrying over to her husband, she hugged him hard despite the blood that stained him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart. I just need some blood.”

Krysta had the odd impulse to do the same to Étienne, to run to him and hug him tight and tell him how glad she was to see he was okay. Or mostly okay. She couldn’t tell if any of the blood staining his weird suit was his.

She settled for crossing to stand in front of him. “Are you okay?”

He nodded.

Two more men suddenly materialized before the brothers. Krysta noticed absently that Sheldon looked as though he had been wallowing in mud. The other man . . .

She gawked. Damn. He was hot. As hot as Étienne and Richart, but several inches taller with wavy, black hair that fell past his waist. He positively oozed power. And his aura . . .

She had never seen anything like it. It was an almost blindingly bright white with none of the swirling purple that flowed through Étienne, Richart, and Jenna’s auras.

“Thanks,” Sheldon said.

The man nodded and disappeared.

Krysta returned her gaze to Étienne, whose face had darkened with a scowl. “Who was that?”

“Seth, the leader of the Immortal Guardians. The eldest and most powerful among us.”

“What is he?”

“As I said, he’s our leader.”

“No, I mean, he isn’t a vampire or an immortal. So what is he?”

“He’s an immortal.”

Krysta eyed Étienne’s aura. “He is?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand any of this.”

“I know. I’ll explain everything when we get home.”

“My home?”

“Nnnnnno. Your home is . . .”

“Shot to shit,” Sheldon supplied for him.

Richart popped the young man on the back of the head.

“Dude, I’m wearing a helmet. I didn’t even—”

Richart popped him on the head again with enough force to send him stumbling several steps away.

“Okay. That I felt.”

Étienne consulted his brother. “Can you take us both at once?”

“Let me get some blood first.”

Richart headed into the kitchen, Jenna at his side, clinging to his hand and leaning into him.

Sheldon gave Krysta a sheepish look. “Sorry about your house.”

She nodded, not knowing what else to do.

Sheldon unfastened the chin strap of his helmet and tugged it off. “See you guys at the meeting tonight. I’m gonna go take a shower.” Spinning on his heels, he trudged down the hallway and out of sight.

“What meeting?” Krysta asked.

“Seth has called a meeting to discuss what has happened and how to identify and deal with the new threat.”

“I can’t go home, can I?”

“No.”

“Great. I guess I could stay in a hotel.” It would have to be the cheapest one she could find.

“You can stay with me,” Étienne suggested. “You’ll be accompanying me to the meeting tonight anyway.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I will?”

He grimaced. “I’m afraid so. Seth has asked that you be there. And no one gainsays Seth.”

“Is he that much more powerful than the rest of you?”

“Absolutely. I’m a babe compared to him.”

Yes, he was a babe. A total babe. But not the way he meant it.

He grinned.

Krysta frowned. “Damn it! Stop reading my thoughts!”

Étienne shrugged. “I was just peeking to see how you were taking all of this.”

“Not well,” she admitted.

“Would you take it better if I told you I think you’re a total babe, too?”

“A little bit.”

He laughed and, wrapping an arm around her, drew her close for a hug.

Krysta looped her arms around his waist, surprised by how natural it felt despite the rubber suit.

“Every day you amaze me more,” he murmured. And she could have sworn he brushed a kiss across the top of her head.

“Every day you confuse me more,” she countered.

“It will all become clear soon.”

His earlier words squeezed past the confusion and concern for her brother, as well as the worry over where the hell they were going to live and how they would pay for everything. “Wait. Who is going to be at this meeting?”

“Most likely all of the Immortal Guardians in the area, as well as their Seconds.”

“What’s a Second again?”

“The human guard or assistant of an immortal. We all have one.”

“Like a Renfield?”

“I suppose so.”

“And how many Immortal Guardians are we talking?”

“Fourteen or fifteen.”

Krysta inadvertently tightened her grip on him as fear returned.

“We won’t hurt you, Krysta. I know it seems like we’ve been doing a piss-poor job of it, but we’re here to help you and protect you.”

She nodded. She supposed she would just have to trust them. Go with gut instinct. Blind hope. Because what other choice did she have?

Richart and Jenna returned.

Rather than leap away from her as Krysta expected, Étienne kept one arm around her and shifted her to his side. As if they were a couple.

“Ready?” Richart asked. “I’d like to go and get back so I can rest for a few hours before the meeting.”

Étienne nodded. “See that he does rest,” he implored Jenna. “He was tranqed earlier.”

Jenna frowned up at her husband. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“I didn’t want to worry you. Besides, Chris gave me the antidote.”

She nodded at Étienne. “He’ll rest.”

“Thank you.”

Richart stepped away from his wife and touched Étienne’s shoulder.

Blackness engulfed them. A second later, the room brightened. Only it was a different room.

Krysta glanced around.

In a different house.

“See you at the meeting tonight,” Richart said.

“I’m serious about you getting some rest,” Étienne said.

Richart’s lips quirked. “As soon as I finish what you so rudely interrupted earlier.”

An instant later he vanished.

“Seriously?” Krysta said. “After being shot and hunting whoever the hell that was at my house and being tranqed, he’s going to go home and make love to his wife?”

“They’re newlyweds,” Étienne said with a shrug. “That’s actually why I wanted to spend the day here instead of there. Their relationship is still new enough that they haven’t had a chance to soundproof the walls of their bedroom, so spending the day there can be awkward.”

“I would think so. With your ears, you can probably hear everything.”

He nodded. He and Lisette had learned very quickly that, although they were always welcome at Richart’s home (the three of them had always been close and routinely slept at each others’ houses to stave off loneliness), Richart wasn’t going to let their presence dampen his amorous pursuits of his wife.

Actually, Richart was so besotted that Étienne wasn’t sure it had even occurred to him that his brother and sister could hear him making love with Jenna. This situation was new to them. Lisette was the only one of them who had ever been married, and that had been before her transformation.

Cam entered, his hair mussed from sleep. He wore his usual sleeping garb: a T-shirt and sweatpants. When he had first been named Étienne’s Second, he had slept in the buff, which Étienne had nixed when he had arrived home one night battered enough to require immediate aid. Then had come boxers, which had been replaced by the sweats and a T-shirt after Lisette and Richart had made several surprise visits.

The pants were for Lisette’s benefit. Cam couldn’t care less about either of the men catching him in his drawers.

“Came home after all?” Cam said, eyeing Krysta curiously.

“Yes. Cam, this is Krysta. She saved my life tonight and lost her home as a result. Krysta, this is Cameron, my Second.”

Cam strode forward and offered his hand. “Good to meet you. Sorry about your house.”

Krysta shook his hand. “Thanks. Étienne seems to think it would be best if I bunk here for the day. I hope you don’t mind.”

“As long as you’re on our side, you’re welcome.”

“She is,” Étienne stated.

Cam nodded. “First things first. Are you wounded?” he asked Étienne.

“Yes.”

“Let me get you some blood.” He left, then returned with two bags of blood Étienne swiftly drew into his parched veins. “The men you fought were mercenaries?”

“Yes.”

Cam slid a glance Krysta’s way. “You’re sure she isn’t one of them?”

Krysta answered before Étienne could. “Would they have tried to kill me if I were?”

“Yes. The mercenaries we fought in the past considered each other expendable.”

“Cam,” Étienne warned, “don’t press her. She isn’t one of them.”

“You’ve read her thoughts?”

Étienne shifted. “Some of them. I can’t read her at will the way I can you and most other mortals.”

Cam stared at Krysta. “Damn. Lucky you.”

Much to Étienne’s relief, Krysta sent his protective Second a wry smile. “Not when the thoughts he can read are the inappropriate ones.”

Cam laughed. “I’m guessing you’re the reason he’s been so distracted these last few weeks.”

Krysta smiled as she met Étienne’s gaze.

He sighed. Was everyone he knew going to say that when they met her? “This is getting embarrassing.”

She laughed.

“You could have told me it was a woman,” Cam continued. “I’ve given you an earful about Laura.”

“Do we really have to talk about this now? In front of Krysta?”

“Yes. I’m pissed about you keeping me out of the fight. And, instead of pouting, I’ve decided to irritate you.”

Étienne shook his head. “You’ve been spending too much time with Sheldon.”

“Not by choice. Do you two want something to eat before you turn in?”

“No, thank you,” Krysta said.

Étienne agreed. “Seth has called for a meeting at David’s tonight, an hour after sunset. I want to get some rest before I face the inquisition.”

Cam nodded. “I’ll keep a sharp eye out in case any of the mercenaries show up on our doorstep.”

Krysta raised her eyebrows. “I don’t see how they could. Richart teleported us.” Her face scrunched up. “It feels so weird to say that.”

Cam laughed. “Like in a B-movie, right?”

She grinned. “Yes. But he did. So I don’t see how anyone could track us here.”

Cam held up a finger. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Étienne watched him head up the hallway to the room they affectionately called the armory.

A moment later he returned, carrying a handheld metal detector. “Disarm.”

Étienne removed his weapons one by one and set them on the scarred coffee table nearby. That’s new, he spoke in Cam’s mind. A metal detector?

Yes. Chris sent it over when we were dealing with Emrys.

Krysta examined the blades piling up on the table.

Cam crossed to stand in front of Étienne. “Now. Let’s see if you’ve got any shrapnel I need to dig out.”

Shrapnel, my ass, Étienne drawled.

If you’ve got shrapnel in your ass, it’s going to stay there, Cam responded with twitching lips. I’m looking for tracking devices the mercenaries may have tagged you with and didn’t want your girlfriend to know.

She isn’t my girlfriend.

Yet.

“Is that a metal detector?” she asked, abandoning the weapons to watch Cam and Étienne.

“Yes,” Cam said, sweeping it up and down Étienne’s limbs. “Usually, the bullets will be pushed out during the healing process, but little pieces that break off can take longer. He’ll heal faster if I dig them out.”

Her brow furrowed with concern. “Oh.”

You could have told her the truth, Étienne said, uncomfortable with the lie.

No, I couldn’t. Not until we’re one hundred percent sure she’s on our side. I assumed you wouldn’t want to lie to her yourself, so I did it for you.

Thank you, Étienne said grudgingly.

Cam shook his head. You really have it bad for her, don’t you?

Yes, damn it. But keep that to yourself.

Will do. “All clear,” Cam announced.

Krysta sighed with relief.

“Can I do anything for the two of you before you turn in?”

“No, thank you,” Krysta said again.

“Reordon is going to have some men escort Krysta’s brother Sean here when he gets off work,” Étienne informed him. “They’re well trained and shouldn’t be followed, but that’s when it will happen if it does.”

Cam nodded. “Is the brother on our side?”

Étienne glanced at Krysta. “That’s yet to be decided.”

“He will be,” Krysta said, uncertainty in her voice. “Once he understands that Étienne isn’t a vampire, I’m sure Sean will come around.”

Cam frowned. “He thinks you’re a vampire?”

“Yes.”

“Then why is he being brought here?”

“To be with Krysta. He’ll be won over faster if he sees firsthand that I’ve no wish to harm her. Don’t worry, though. Chris is sending a contingent of guards to watch the house and grounds. Seth’s orders.”

The rumble of approaching vehicles swelled outside, accompanied by the muffled conversations of network guards.

“That’s them now.”

Cam nodded. “I’ll take care of everything. You say the meeting is scheduled for an hour after sunset?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be ready. You two see if you can’t get some sleep.” Cam placed the metal detector on the coffee table beside Étienne’s weapons and strode over to the front door. Opening it, he called a greeting and stepped outside to deal with their new security detail.

Silence fell. Krysta stared up at Étienne.

Awkward.

He smiled. “Not really.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“You projected that one.”

“I don’t know how that works and am too tired to try to figure it out.” Fatigue clawed at her, leaving her weary enough not to put up any more of a fight if he read her thoughts.

Étienne closed the distance between them. “Let’s try to get some sleep.” Resting a hand on her lower back, he guided her into a hallway. “You can have my sister Lisette’s room. I never know when she’ll drop in, so I always keep it ready for her.”

She nodded, full of ambivalence.

On the one hand, she was relieved that he hadn’t asked her to sleep with him. She may have known him, in a manner of speaking, for a couple of weeks, but she didn’t know him. Not really.

Nor did she fully trust him yet.

On the other hand, it had been nice, falling asleep beside him earlier. And this had been a hell of a day. Or night. Or whatever. Not only had her beliefs concerning the paranormal world and its inhabitants been rocked off of its foundations, she had killed two men. And she had nearly been killed herself by a whole host of others. Men not vampires.

And she had lost everything. From the sounds of things, the little house she and Sean rented had been completely trashed. The contents destroyed along with it. How were they going to bounce back from this? They lived paycheck to paycheck.

And what would happen to her when she went before all those immortals at the big meeting ahead of them? What would they do to her?

Étienne paused before an open door that led down into a basement. “After you.”

“This is so surreal,” she muttered as she tromped down the stairs.

It wasn’t what she expected. She had thought it would be cold and dark and damp. Instead, the basement looked remarkably like the first floor, just without windows.

Again, Étienne placed a hand at her back and guided her to the first door on the right. “You and Lisette are of a similar size, so please feel free to delve into her closet and borrow whatever you will.”

“Thank you.” When he reached in and turned on the light, she studied the room.

It was pretty. Expensive hotel room pretty. She would have thought anyone two hundred years old would furnish their home with big, bulky antiques. But this room, and the rest of the house, was quite modern. Clean. Almost minimalist, with none of the froufrou stuff that professionally designed rooms featured in magazines all seemed to boast.

“Is it to your liking?” Étienne asked, brow furrowed. He actually seemed worried that it may not appeal to her.

“It’s the nicest place I’ve ever stayed,” she admitted.

He smiled. “I hope you’ll be comfortable. I’ll be across the hall if you should need anything.”

She nodded, suddenly feeling lost. “Thank you.”

Étienne took her hand and drew her into a hug, one she very much needed in that moment. “Don’t lie awake all day, trying to figure everything out. There will be time enough for that tonight.”

Easier said than done, but she’d try.

He drew back. Reaching up, he curled his hand into a loose fist and stroked her face with the backs of his fingers.

“Are you messing with my head, Étienne?” she asked.

“No.”

“You aren’t brainwashing me and tricking me into believing you’re a good guy?”

“I’m not powerful enough to brainwash you. I can search others’ thoughts. I can catch yours every once in awhile. But I can’t alter them. The elders can, but not I.”

“Then why do I feel like I’ve known you for a lot longer than I have?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. But I feel the same way.” Lowering his head, he touched his lips to hers.

Her heartbeat picked up, surely drawing his notice. It really sucked that he knew how much he affected her while she was left in the dark.

He captured one of her hands and pressed it to his chest.

Beneath the rubber and all of that hard muscle, his heart raced as swiftly as her own.

When he raised his head, his brown eyes bore a faint amber glow. “This has all been as much of a surprise to me as it has been to you.”

She nodded, incapable of doing anything else.

“No one has ever tempted me more.”

She swallowed.

“Right across the hall,” he murmured, backing away from her.

“Good night,” she said, surprised she could sound so normal when such upheaval teemed within her. “Or rather day.”

“Sleep well.”

Passing through the darkened doorway across the hall, he flicked on the light and closed the door.