Love Bites (9 page)

“A sound idea,” Lucern commented. Arching an eyebrow at Etienne he asked, “Do you think you can?”

“I can try,” Etienne decided. Then he smiled. “I'll have plenty of time to convince her while she's here.”

“If she agrees to stay,” Lissianna pointed out.

“She will.”

“She isn't a stray dog, Etienne,” Marguerite said dryly, entering the room. “You can't just keep her as you like.”

“No, she isn't a stray dog,” he agreed. “But she
is
one of us now.”

“So?” Lissianna said. “Her being one of us doesn't mean you can keep her chained up. She'll most likely want to return to her own life.”

“But she'll need to feed,” he protested.

“Yes, she will,” Bastien agreed. “And certainly we will make our blood bank open to her, if she needs it.”

Etienne's head snapped in his brother's direction. “If she needs it? Of course she'll need it.”

“Not necessarily,” Greg commented. “She works in a hospital. She can probably take care of herself.”

Etienne said nothing but felt his mouth tighten with displeasure. He didn't at all like the idea of losing her, and briefly struggled with the reasons behind it. He was thoroughly confused by his passion, for he hardly knew the woman and shouldn't feel so strongly about this—but he did. He'd like to think it had nothing to do with his body's passionate response to her when she had kissed him, or the pleasure he had felt when she'd crawled on top of him.

His gaze drifted to the door and the stairs visible beyond as his family continued to talk. Rachel would be asleep in his bed at that moment; his mother would have seen to that. It was for the best. Her body had suffered a good deal of trauma of late—a mortal wound, the turning, healing. And mentally she had been through the ringer as well. It couldn't be an easy thing to accept that your whole life had changed so abruptly.

Etienne frowned. His own life had taken a sudden unexpected turn along with hers, and he was feeling rather traumatized himself. Suddenly, he was faced with the care and concern of another being. The clos
est he'd felt to this was the protective nature of an older brother when Lissianna had been a child, but that hadn't been nearly as strong. He felt a connection to the woman sleeping in his bed, one he couldn't define or really understand. Perhaps it was because he had turned her, and that had created a bond he hadn't been warned of. Regardless, he felt his life was now interlaced with hers on many levels.

On the other hand, perhaps he simply needed to look into more of a social life. It couldn't be good for him to have gone celibate for so long.

“How long has it been?”

“Two or three decades,” Etienne answered before he could catch himself. Then he glared. “It's rude to read other people's thoughts, Mother.”

She merely smiled sweetly at him. Marguerite had a bond with each of her children, perhaps from birth. She had always been able to read their minds and such—a talent not reciprocal to her children. Each of them could read the thoughts of humans—or usually they could, Etienne corrected himself, recalling that Rachel's mind seemed sealed against him. They could also read each other's thoughts when they weren't guarded, which they usually were. But none of them could read Marguerite's.

“It's getting late and I have things to do,” the woman announced, getting to her feet. “Besides, we should leave Etienne to consider how to convince Rachel to
go along with the plan. We can meet to discuss this matter further tomorrow night.”

Much to Etienne's relief, everyone else concurred. He saw them out, closed and locked the door, then made his way upstairs to his room, unable to prevent himself.

His houseguest slept with the innocence of a babe. As she lay there curled up under his blankets in his bed, there was absolutely nothing about her to suggest the mischievous, even lusty woman who hid beneath. Etienne smiled slightly at his recollection. Rachel was a firecracker, as her red hair suggested, and Etienne was very much enjoying the show. He could hardly wait for sunset to come and a new night to begin.

The glowing red numbers of the digital clock on the bedside table read 12:06. Still deep night. She hadn't slept very long this time. Despite her dislike of the night shift, being on it for so long had affected her sleeping patterns, and Rachel knew right away she wasn't going to get back to sleep. Normally she'd be well into her work shift by this hour…and wishing she worked during the day.

Sitting up, she slid her feet to the floor and reached for the clothes lying across the foot of the bed. She had a vague recollection of Marguerite promising to collect more for her, and distinctly recalled murmuring something of an agreement to that, but she couldn't imagine why she'd agreed. She had no intention of staying here another day. She was going home.
While she had no idea what life held in store now, Bastien's explanations the night before had convinced her life had definitely changed.

Funny, while she was willing to admit that she had changed, she didn't feel any different. She still loved her family, and her goals and ambitions were the same. She wasn't really sure how she felt about being a vampire, but suspected she was going to have trouble. It was one thing to fantasize about never aging and living forever—though from what they had said, it wasn't necessarily
forever
-forever—but it was quite another thing to be faced with it.

Rachel had spent the night dreaming the world was moving around her at an accelerated pace. In her dream, faceless people had been milling about. They were born, grew up, and aged while she stood still, the Argeneaus at her back, none of them ever changing; watching those around them crumble into dust. And there were always others being born to take their places and die as well.

Pushing away the bleak dream and the concerns it brought to light, Rachel finished dressing. She left the room to find that, as it had been the first time she'd woken, the house was silent and still. Much to her relief, a light had been left on in the hallway though, making it easy to navigate the stairs. There was no one on the ground floor when she reached it—apparently Etienne's family had gone home. Working on instinct, she walked to the kitchen, not surprised to see the
line of light beneath the door to the basement.

Rachel opened the door and headed down, determined to find her host. She was leaving. Now. Her footsteps slowed as she reached the bottom of the stairs, though, and recollections of her previous encounters with the man struck. Her earlier behavior left her squirming inside. How could she face him? She briefly considered leaving but couldn't move herself to be that rude. The man
had
saved her life, after all. Rachel wasn't yet sure she cared much for
how
he had saved her life, but save her he had. She owed it to him to at least offer thanks and let him know she was going.

Having convinced herself she could not in good conscience just flee, Rachel forced herself to continue on. The door was unlocked, and as she swung it open, Rachel noted that it was constructed wholly of metal and at least six inches thick. It made her think of a bank vault. High-tech security, she thought with distraction, then noticed Etienne sitting at the desk. He was rolling his wheeled chair between monitors, making adjustments then rolling back. He wasn't sleeping in the coffin tonight.

Her gaze shifted to that long box and she frowned at it, wondering if she would have to sleep in one as well. The idea wasn't appealing. Rachel had a touch of claustrophobia.

“Oh, you're up.”

She glanced at her host. He swung his chair around to face her and was smiling brightly. He seemed to
smile a lot, she noticed. He was obviously a happy kind of guy. But then, why not? He was wealthy, good-looking, forever young, and apparently with few cares to burden him. Realizing that she was simply standing there staring, Rachel forced herself to smile and move forward. “What are you doing?”

“Working.” He turned back to his monitors and tapped a keyboard, changing the image. Rachel's eyes widened incredulously as she recognized the screen he brought up.

“Blood Lust?” she asked softly. Her eyes widened as the image finished forming. The title was made up of red letters which dripped away like blood. “Blood Lust Two!” she exclaimed. “I love the first version. I didn't know the second was out.”

“It isn't. Yet.”

“Yet?” Her gaze fixed to the monitor as the title page gave way to the production company logo; then her eyes shot to Etienne. “You aren't saying you're the creator?”

He nodded, his lips splitting in another grin.

“Wow.” She looked back at the monitor. “I had heard it was a Torontonian who designed it, but…” But she was rather shocked to find it was a vampire. The game was about vampires: bad ones and a lone female hunter out to destroy them.

“I've pretty much finished Blood Lust Two, except for the final battle,” he answered. “I was just about to test play it for flaws or tweaks. Care to join me?”

Rachel hesitated, but not for long. She'd thank him and leave later. The opportunity to play an unreleased prototype to the second version of her favorite game was just too tempting.

“Well, if you designed Blood Lust, I suppose you can't be all bad,” she said half-teasing. Settling in the chair he rolled across the room, she watched him sit back in his own again.

“Gee, thanks.” He sounded amused. Working his keyboard, he brought up the game.

“So, is this how Pokey figured out you were a vampire?” Rachel asked. His fingers danced across the keyboard. He was very fast. She was impressed. She herself was a hunt-and-pecker when it came to typing.

“Not exactly,” he answered. “Though it might have given him some help. What really gave me away was the coffin, my habit of staying out of daylight, and the fact that I never seemed to eat.”

Rachel stared at him blankly, then asked in confusion, “But how did he know all that?”

Etienne shrugged, concentrating on what he was doing. “Pudge is a techie. I think he was jealous of my success. He kind of fixated on me and tried to get me to hire him, but I prefer working alone.” He grimaced. “The fellow hounded me for over a year. He even offered to work for free. When I still refused, he started following me about, breaking into the house when I was away and so on. I think he was trying to gather information, but I'm pretty sure what he learned isn't
at all what he expected.” His words were a dry understatement. “It was apparently enough to convince him that he had to kill me and finish me off the traditional way.”

He was referring to Pudge's attempt to cut off his head, Rachel supposed. “Isn't staking the traditional way to kill a vampire?”

“Staking and cutting off the head,” Etienne agreed. “I suppose he decided the stake wasn't really necessary.”

“Jeez.” Rachel grimaced. What would have happened had she not jumped between Etienne and the ax-wielding Pudge? In her mind, she visualized the man holding Etienne's dangling head from one hand, and she was glad she had prevented that. “This Pudge is a bit sick.”

“Yes. I think he needs mental help,” Etienne agreed. “Actually, I know he does.”

“How? I mean, aside from the fact that he's tried to kill you countless times?” she asked in wry tones.

“I can't get into his mind to wipe his memory clean or control his actions.” When Rachel's gaze narrowed with sudden suspicion, he added, “No, I can't read your mind or control your behavior either, but in your case I'm sure it has nothing to do with insanity.”

Despite herself, Rachel smiled at his teasing tone. “So, there are some people you just can't read?” When he nodded, she suggested, “Then perhaps he's just like me, one of those people.”

Etienne shook his head. “I explained it wrong. I
can
get into his mind, but it's such a painful procedure.” He looked away and shrugged. “His thoughts are confused and murky. Fragmented is probably the best description. I couldn't make enough sense of his thoughts to do anything with them. Whereas with you, I simply can't read your thoughts.”

“Hmm.” Rachel considered, not sure she believed him. “Your mother doesn't seem to have any problem.”

“Don't remind me.” He sounded irritated.

“Why is it that she can and you can't?” Rachel asked, though she wasn't sure that was the case. It would be less embarrassing to believe her earlier behavior was due to his mind control. Unfortunately, she couldn't convince herself.

Etienne didn't answer. “Here we go,” he said, drawing her attention to the game screen. “Level one.”

Rachel watched the opening sequence in fascination, a smile of anticipation curving her lips. She was a secret video-game junkie and her work hours made a social life somewhat difficult, and so she had been known to waste hours playing them. The fact that Etienne was the creator of her favorite game raised him in her estimation. Gorgeous
and
brilliant? He was looking better by the moment, and he had looked pretty darned good at the start. Even as a corpse.

They played. Etienne was a stern taskmaster. There were no cheat codes allowed, and he wouldn't even
give hints on what was coming next. He also insisted they couldn't use the sissy Easy level; they started and played on Expert, working as a team to hunt out and stake various meany vamps.

Rachel decided not to analyze the fact that the game was all about wiping out an evil vampire cadre. However, she couldn't help but wince every time she succeeded at dusting one of the villains. At last, Etienne noticed, and explained that these were “rogue vampires,” not good ones like themselves. These guys liked to eat the old-fashioned way and took life doing it. She relaxed a bit then and really got into the game—to the point that when Etienne moved away for a minute, she hardly noticed until he set a mug by her hand.

Suddenly aware that she was thirsty, Rachel reached blindly for the mug and gulped down its contents. She then promptly spit it back. “Ewwww!” The tinny taste of cold, thick blood coated her tongue.

“Sorry.” Etienne didn't sound very sorry. He was chuckling as he took the mug and grabbed a box of Kleenex off the end of his desk. She cleaned up the blood that had not made it back into the mug. “It's an acquired taste. I should have warned you.”

Rachel grimaced and wiped her mouth. “I don't think I'm likely to acquire it anytime soon.”

“Hmm.” He looked troubled and drank from his own mug. Then, setting it aside, he said, “Well, if necessary we can feed you intravenously.”

Rachel heaved out a defeated breath. “That sounds…wimpy.”

He shrugged. “Inconvenient but manageable. Lissianna had to do it until recently.”

“Your sister?” Rachel was surprised. Lissianna had seemed a strong woman, not at all squeamish like Rachel was feeling.

Etienne nodded. “She's suffered hemophobia from childhood. The sight and smell of blood made her faint. The only way she could feed was biting or taking blood intravenously.”

“Biting? Wouldn't she taste it that way?”

“No. If you do it right, the teeth soak the blood in. It never touches your tongue.”

“Then why didn't she just bite bags, like you did today?”

“The sight made her faint too,” he reminded. “And she can hardly go around stabbing her teeth blindly into blood bags. She might make a heck of a mess if her aim is off. Then, too, there is the smell,” he added. “The moment your teeth sink into a blood bag, the scent wafts up. It's a particular smell, bagged blood. For the rest of us, it's not a problem, but it is for Lissianna.”

“I see,” Rachel murmured, then became aware that he was frowning at her.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Rachel considered. They'd been playing Blood Lust II for hours, and she couldn't even recall the last time
she'd eaten. She didn't think she had since before Pudge attacked her. “I'm hungry.”

He nodded slowly. “I thought so. You look pale. Nothing will satisfy that hunger but blood.”

Rachel grimaced. “Don't you guys eat any
food
?”

“
We
.” He emphasized the word, reminding her that she was one of them now. “We certainly can and do eat food, especially while young. Children have to eat normal food as well as ingest blood to help muscle and bone grow. Those who don't are usually easy to tell—they're often stunted and emaciated. But after reaching adulthood, it isn't as necessary. After a hundred years or so, most grow tired of the hassle and sometimes even the taste, and they simply rely on blood with the occasional meal to help maintain muscle mass. Although Bastien is sure it isn't necessary.”

Rachel considered, then cleared her throat. “Well, that means I have roughly seventy years before I get tired of eating.”

Etienne managed a crooked smile. “I'll order something delivered from the deli.”

“Deli?” Rachel frowned and glanced at her wrist-watch—which of course wasn't there. “What time is it?”

“A little after ten
A.M
.”

“After ten?” she almost screeched. They'd played the night through and into morning. She supposed the saying was true that time flew when you were having
fun. Still, it was hard to believe that they'd wasted the whole night.

“What would you like?” Etienne asked as he began to punch numbers into the phone on his desk.

Rachel thought, then asked for a Reuben, chips, and a Coke. She was
really
hungry, a feeling that was growing by the minute now that she was aware of it.

They played more Blood Lust II as they waited for the food to be delivered, but Rachel was distracted. She was relieved when the doorbell finally chimed, announcing the arrival of her order. Etienne excused himself and went to answer. Rachel knew he expected her to wait below in his office, but she just couldn't. Pausing the game, she followed him upstairs. She stepped into the kitchen just as he entered from the hallway, a deli bag in hand.