He loosed a tired laugh. “Yeah. Me, too. I guess I should patch him up since he saved your stubborn, reckless ass.”

“I was hoping you would.”

Krysta helped him remove Etienne’s coat, weapons, and shirt.

Both swore when they saw just how many bullet holes he sported.

Krysta didn’t know how he could still live. The vampires she usually hunted often died from blood loss. And Etienne had lost a lot of blood.

They moved on to his shoes and pants.

Sean’s lips twitched.

“What?” she asked as she tugged off a heavy boot.

“Did you know your boy here’s ringtone is “I Feel Pretty”?

She frowned and smiled at the same time. “What?”

“His phone rang while you were in the shower.”

As if on cue, a female voice filled the air, singing, “I feel pretty! Oh so pretty! I feel pretty and witty and gaaaaaay!”

Laughing, Krysta retrieved Etienne’s phone from his pocket and opened it just as it stopped ringing.

“It must have gone to voice mail,” Sean said, peering at it.

“If it rings again should I answer?”

“And bring another vampire down on our heads? I don’t think so. At least not yet.”

They stripped Etienne down to a pair of black, silk boxer shorts.

Although he had a beautiful body, trim and rippling with muscle, Krysta had a hard time admiring it. Blood coated nearly every inch of him, having poured from so many bullet holes. Even his legs were littered with them.

Sean swore.

Krysta nodded.

None of the wounds still bled. Neither did they heal. Some of the holes even appeared to still contain the lead that had carved them.

“We need soapy water and some towels,” Sean said, staring down at his patient. “A butt-load of them.”

Krysta nodded. It was going to be a long night.

Lisette nibbled her thumbnail as she stared at the unconscious immortal male wrapped in titanium chains. Apparently he hadn’t yet awoken, so Roland and Sarah were off hunting while Lisette took second watch.

Lisette didn’t know who the mysterious immortal was, but he fascinated her.

He lay on the floor where Roland had dumped him, his wavy, raven hair shielding much of his face. A face she had not minded staring at in the least these past few weeks as she had spied upon him.

He was strikingly handsome. And so somber. Sad almost. Or maybe lonely? Ami always managed to lure a smile from him, even if only a small one.

Her eyes strayed to his wings. Those beautiful wings.

Only a few feathers peeked out from the blankets and chains.

Was he an immortal? Or was he something else? Something a little more . . . angelic?

She hadn’t posed the question to the others, knowing how ruthlessly Roland would have mocked the notion. But the idea just wouldn’t leave her.

Easing closer to the male, she cautiously leaned in and sniffed his neck.

His scent was . . .

She sighed.

So good. He smelled like she remembered her father’s country estate used to when she was a girl. Like spring rain. Fresh and clean and new.

She smiled. With a hint of the fruity lollipops Ami had given him last night.

What she didn’t smell on him was the virus. Which didn’t necessarily mean anything. As Roland had pointed out, she couldn’t smell it on Seth either. Or David. Or some of the other elder immortals who had lived a great deal longer than she had.

Her gaze returned to his wings.

Still . . .

Her cell phone chirped.

Jumping, she shook her head at herself and stepped back from the captive as she retrieved the phone.

“Oui?” she answered when she saw it was Richart.

“Have you heard from Etienne tonight?”

“No. Why?”

“He was wounded earlier, judging by the pain I felt, and I haven’t been able to reach him.”

The twins had always referred to the unique bond they shared in much the same way the fictional character Adrian Monk described his own ability: It was a gift . . . and a curse.

It sucked that they felt each other’s pain. And only pain. They never felt each other’s pleasure, which—now that she thought of it—would be awkward now that Richart had wed and made frequent love to his wife.

The bond did come in handy, however, in times like this when one might be injured and require aid.

“Did you try Cam?” Surely Etienne’s Second would know something.

“Cameron hasn’t heard from him and is making discreet inquiries.”

“Why discreet?”

“I don’t know. Something’s been going on with Etienne, something he’s been keeping from us. You’ve noticed how distracted he’s been.”

“Yes. I assumed it was a woman, but could glean nothing from his thoughts. He has kept them from me of late.”

And usually did so when he took a lover. Not that such had happened often over the past two centuries. Immortal/human love affairs never ended well.

“Should I call Seth?” he asked, that question telling her more than anything else how concerned he was.

“Would you have wanted Seth to hunt you down when you were with Jenna, recovering from your wounds the time you were tranqed?”

“No.”

“Then there’s your answer. Give it a little more time. If Etienne was wounded badly enough, he may simply be sleeping too deeply for the phone to awaken him.”

“You’re right, of course.”

“Call me when you hear something. And tell Jenna hello for me.”

“I will,” he said, a smile entering his voice.

Lisette had only recently met her new sister-in-law and had never seen her brother as content and quick to smile as he had been with the former single mother. Not since his transformation anyway.

Guilt, an ever-present companion, stirred.

Lisette ended the call and returned her cell phone to her pocket.

Sighing, she focused her attention once more on the prisoner.

And found him staring up at her with piercing brown eyes.

Chapter 5

“I feel pretty! Oh so pretty!”

Krysta jerked awake.

“I feel pretty and witty and gaaaaaaay!”

Sitting up in the director’s chair, she winced and rubbed her aching neck. She must have fallen asleep.

Her gaze went to Etienne.

He lay as he had ever since she and Sean had finished cleaning and bandaging his wounds. Still as death. The rise and fall of his chest so faint it seemed an illusion.

She reached for the cell phone she had dropped on the battered table beside her. Sean shuffled into the room, eyes puffy from sleep, boxers and T-shirt as rumpled as his short, black hair.

“How’s your head?” she asked.

“Better.”

She glanced at the phone. “It’s someone named Richart.”

“Are you going to answer it or let it go to voice mail?”

Glancing at Etienne, she answered the call.

Before she could say one word, a slew of French poured over the line. Biting her lip, she waited for it to end.

An expectant pause ensued.

Diving in, Krysta asked, “Do you speak English?”

“Yes,” the man replied in a voice and accent very similar to Etienne’s. “Who is this? Where did you find this phone?”

“In the owner’s pocket. Who is this?” she countered.

“Where is he?”

She looked at Sean, who watched her with furrowed brow. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m his brother.”

Not what she had been expecting. “Vampires have brothers?” she asked, realizing the moment she said it what a stupid question it was. Of course they did. They had all been human once. It was just hard to remember that once they turned monstrous.

Sean’s eyebrows flew up as he mouthed, “His brother?”

She nodded.

A tense silence followed.

“Hello?” she asked at length.

“If you have harmed him in any way,” the man began, his deep voice so full of menace that she felt a twinge of fear.

“I haven’t.” She thought she heard a sigh of relief. “But someone else has. And I’m a little worried that they might come after us.”

Sean nodded, sharing her concern.

They still had seen nothing about it on the news and didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Both feared it was bad.

“How sorely is he wounded?”

“I’m pretty sure he needs blood.”

“Did you give him any?”

“Um . . . no.”

“Yet you know what he is.”

“If you mean, do I know he’s a vampire, then yes.”

Another long pause. “Tell me where you are located.”

Covering the phone, she whispered, “He wants to know where we are.”

Sean looked as uneasy as she felt. “I don’t know . . .”

“Who is there with you?” Richart demanded.

“My brother.”

“Who else?”

She bit her lip. If Etienne was a two-hundred-year-old vampire and Richart was his brother, then Richart must be a vampire, too. What if Richart planned to bring a few of his bloodsucking friends? What if they didn’t share Etienne’s rare desire to protect humans?

“You hesitate,” he pointed out.

“Look, I’m just not used to trusting vampires, okay? How do I know you won’t bring a horde of others along with you and kill us both?”

“I wouldn’t need a horde of others to kill you,” he responded simply.

Crap.

“Honey,” she heard a woman say in the background with an American accent, “if you’re trying to reassure her that you won’t hurt them, saying things like that won’t help.”

Krysta raised her eyebrows.

Sean mouthed, “What?”

“I think he has a girlfriend,” she whispered.

“Etienne?”

“No.” He’d better not. “His brother.”