Darkness Rises (Immortal Guardians) (21 page)

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Authors: Dianne Duvall

BOOK: Darkness Rises (Immortal Guardians)
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“Thank you. It’s electric.”
Her eyebrows flew up. “Are you serious? I thought all electric cars looked like a toddler’s shoe. This . . . looks like money.”
He opened the passenger door for her. “I like it, too. There are zero emissions, so my sensitive nose gets a break from exhaust fumes, and I can go up to three hundred miles on a charge.”
“Daaaaaamn. I—and my bank account—really need one of these. The price of gas has been kicking my ass.”
He smiled down at her as she sank into the comfortable seat and fastened her seat belt. “You’ll get one if you come to work for us. Every job working for the Immortal Guardians comes with a low or no emission, fuel efficient car of your choice.”
“No way!”
He nodded. “Sean will get one, too.”
“Wait. We’ll each have our own car?”
“Absolutely.” He closed the door, zipped around to the driver’s side, and sank into the seat Cam had pushed all the way back from the steering wheel.
The engine started as he buckled his seat belt.
Krysta’s eyes widened, then fastened on the touch screen.
Hell, if a cool car would entice her to join them, he’d see that she got two of them. He really didn’t want her to continue hunting. She was mortal. Vulnerable. Fragile. It was only a matter of time before tragedy struck.
And he didn’t want to think about that.
Krysta strolled through Duke’s campus, Étienne at her side. Her mind raced with everything she had learned earlier. Her heart raced at his nearness.
Oddly, it almost felt as if they were out on a date.
Maybe he was just naturally gallant, opening the car door for her, often guiding her with a hand on her lower back. Even his speech sometimes seemed old worldish.
He
was
from another era.
“This is so weird,” she said.
“What is?” he asked, his sharp eyes searching every shadow.
He had said he loved strong women. Well, apparently she
adored
strong men, because in his warrior mode he was breath-stealingly, heart-racingly appealing.
Tearing her gaze away from her gorgeous companion, Krysta kept an eye out for glowing orange auras. “Me walking and talking with a man born in the nineteenth century.”
“Actually, I was born in the eighteenth century. Seventeen eighty three, to be exact.”
Unreal. She was lusting after a man born over two hundred years before
she
had been born. “So, you lived through the French Revolution?”
He nodded. “The Reign of Terror.”
Honestly she had forgotten almost everything she had learned about the French Revolution and knew only the dates (roundabout) and that thousands had died under the guillotine. She wanted to ask if
he
had lost anyone to Madame Guillotine, but thought it too morbid. “That must have been . . .”
“Bad,” he said, his face clouding.
She shouldn’t have said anything.
Then she realized . . . “You lived during Napoleon’s reign?”
He nodded. Glancing at her from the corner of his eye, he smiled faintly. “Your mouth is hanging open again.”
“I’ll bet it is.” This was so crazy. “Was Napoleon really short like everyone says?”
“
Oui
.”
“How many languages do you speak?”
“Not many. I’m fluent in half a dozen or so and know a phrase here or there in half a dozen more.”
“That many?”
“Older immortals know far more. Seth knows them all. David, too, most likely.”
“All?”
“Even those that have long since been forgotten.”
Krysta wished
she
were fluent in more than one language. She had learned Spanish in high school, but had forgotten most of it. And her college career had been cut short by a vampire attack and her resulting obsession with hunting vamps.
“Say something else in French,” she requested.
A series of lilting indecipherable words flowed smoothly from his tongue.
“What did you say?” she asked curiously.
“Something I can’t repeat without you either blushing furiously or striking me.”
“Was it naughty?” she asked with a smile.
His smile turned wicked. “Very naughty.”
Now she
really
wanted to know what he had said.
“Does it trouble you?” he asked hesitantly.
“What? You talking dirty to me in French?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “No, that I’ve lived so long.”
“No.” And she wasn’t sure why. “Maybe because you don’t look your age.”
He grimaced. “I should hope not.”
Quiet fell.
A breeze ruffled their hair. His, she knew from burying her fingers in it, was thick and as soft as silk.
“This isn’t working,” he pronounced.
Crap. She shouldn’t have brought up his age. “Why? Is it because you think I’m too young for you?”
“What?” He stopped walking and faced her. “No. I was talking about our . . . outing.”
Hunt,
he added in her head, in case someone out of sight was listening.
“Oh. Right.”
“You aren’t too young for me.”
“Of course I’m not.”
He frowned. “Do
you
think you’re too young for me?”
“No.”
“We’re both adults.”
“Yes, we are.”
“There will be cultural differences, of course.”
“Could make things more interesting.”
He looked around, eyes sharp. Returning his attention to her, he tilted his head to one side. Moonlight filtered down through the trees and highlighted his handsome face. “What do you say we do this your way?”
Krysta wasn’t sure how to answer that. Were they talking about pursuing their attraction to each other or hunting? Or both? “What exactly are we talking about?” she asked, just to be sure.
His lips twitched. “I was talking about our outing. Why? What were
you
talking about?”
Smiling, she hit him in the shoulder. “Stop teasing me.”
He grinned. “Absolutely not. I’m enjoying it too much.” Again, he surveyed the campus around them. “As much as I love your delightful company, I think I should leave now. I’ve work to do and the night is passing quickly.”
“Really?”
He nodded and smiled again. “Go do your thing.”
Was he actually giving her the go-ahead to act as bait? She had assumed he intended to do all the hunting himself and was pretty much just letting her tag along.
“Okay.” Though she regretted having to give up his company.
I’ll monitor you from the rooftops,
he added telepathically.
Anytime you wish to speak to me, just direct your thoughts toward me as though I were standing before you and you were speaking them aloud and I should hear them.
Okay. Did you hear that?
He smiled.
Yes.
Can you hear everything else I’m thinking?
He was silent a moment.
No. Your barriers are still in place, so I can only hear what you wish me to hear.
Good.
He pursed his lips.
Any naughty thoughts about me floating around up there?
Many
many
naughty thoughts.
He stepped closer to her.
In case anyone is looking
. . . Resting his hands on her waist, he drew her up against him and proceeded to kiss the stuffing out of her.
Fire licked through Krysta’s veins as she locked her arms around his neck. Her heart pounded a rapid beat as he slid his hands up her rib cage, his thumbs nearing her tingling breasts.
He murmured something in French in her mind.
Say it in English,
she reminded him.
How you tempt me.
Good, because he tempted the hell out of her.
When he dragged his lips away, she was happy to discover his breathing was as ragged as hers.
“Good night,” he said, voice low and hoarse.
“Good night.”
Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips.
Krysta didn’t have to fake a stumble as she turned to walk away from him. Her knees were weak. All this time she had thought that was just corny crap found in chick flicks. She hadn’t realized passion really
could
weaken your knees.
She shook her head at herself. She was twenty-seven years old and no virgin. She should already know that, shouldn’t she?
As she walked up the sidewalk, exploring the quadrangles that hosted her favorite frat houses, she caught periodic glimpses of Étienne’s pretty white and purple aura leaping from roof to roof.
She wished
she
could do that. That would be so much fun.
Testing. Testing. Can you hear me?
she asked.
He laughed.
Yes.
When you said we’d be hunting together, I didn’t think you meant as we have been.
I may not like it, but you do make good bait.
She was getting used to hearing his warm, deep voice in her head.
Can I drunk dial you?
Her fictional drunken phone calls worked well to distract any vamps tailing her.
Anytime we aren’t hunting.
She smiled.
I’m not a big drinker.
Nor am I. Alcohol has no effect on us, so there isn’t much point.
Oh. Well, I was just going to fake it anyway.
As you have before. I admit I found your rants both credible and entertaining.
That gave her a warm feeling.
But,
he went on,
if you were to call me, the vampires would hear your conversation both down there
and
through my phone up here, alerting them to my presence.
Oh. Your ears really
are
sensitive, aren’t they?
Yes, as are vampires’.
Bummer. I was going to talk dirty to you.
Damn. I hate to miss that.
Maybe later. I could talk dirty to you mentally
, she suggested boldly.
Very tempting, but it looks like you have some nibblers.
Vampires are taking the bait?
she asked, staggering a bit to one side.
Already?
Definitely. Two approach from your five and three more from your eight.
Ooh. I like this. No more guessing how many I’ll face or trying to sneak a peek at them.
How did you live through six years of this?
I’m good at what I do.
Just don’t get cocky.
I won’t. Any sign of mercenaries?
Silence.
No. Nothing with my eyes. Nothing with the infrared. What about you? Any human auras lurking in odd places?
She paused at a crosswalk and looked around as though trying to remember where she wanted to go. The vampires scattered like cockroaches, their auras leading the way.
No. No humans.
Good.
Half singing under her breath, she led the vamps away from the frat houses, past eating establishments that would have been packed with students only a couple of hours earlier, and toward the science buildings that would give them a little more privacy and be less likely to draw the attention of anyone out and about this late.
Adrenaline surged through her veins as she ducked into a darkened area she suspected was used for deliveries and paused. It was the closest thing to an alley nearby and would have to do. Reaching beneath her coat, she drew her borrowed shoto swords and spun around. “Hi, guys.”
Those vamps who had already bent forward in a menacing crouch, intending to taunt and frighten her, frowned. Straightening, they looked at each other, then her.
She grinned. “I believe this is where I’m supposed to say: It’s on.”
Étienne appeared behind the vamps at the mouth of the pseudo-alley, swords drawn. “Actually,” he countered. “it’s not on. Did you forget we need to talk to them first?”
The vamps spun to face Étienne, drawing weapons they had thought they wouldn’t need to slaughter a drunk sorority girl.
Krysta swore. “Yes, I did. I see now why that grumpy older guy didn’t want to do this. It kinda ruins the flow of it all.”
“What the hell?” one vamp asked, looking back and forth between them.
“An Immortal Guardian,” one sneered, his eyes flashing a bright blue as they slid to Krysta. “And his mortal Second.”
The others’ eyes flared to life in a variety of colors. Some actually hissed liked movie vampires did.
Étienne raced right through their midst and planted himself in front of Krysta.

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