“Let’s just run,” the second vamp hissed.

Let them live now and they will find you another night.

All of them swore.

Decide quickly, gentlemen, and don’t say anything that will indicate your impending actions. They’re listening.

The Tar Heel looked at his fellows and nodded.

One by one they all nodded back.

He turned to Etienne and gave him a thumbs-up.

Smart man. You stay here with AndrE the Giant, he said, indicating the huge, hulking vamp on the Tar Heel’s other side, and guard the woman.

I can’t believe this shit, Krysta muttered to him.

Etienne glanced at her from the corner of his eye. I’ve read their thoughts. Any intention they had of harming you is gone. He nodded to the three vamps across the alley. I’m going to meet the larger group head-on. You three meet those who are circling around to the south. Keep moving. They can’t tranq or shoot what they can’t see. Stay between them if you can and maybe you’ll luck out and trick them into killing each other. Go. Now.

Etienne blurred and shot away.

When the three vamps hesitated, Tar Heel scowled and indicated with a furious wave that they should get their asses moving.

They blurred and shot away, too.

Krysta, drew the tranquilizer gun Etienne had insisted she carry. One dose, he had told her, would either kill a human or sedate a vamp.

She eyed the vamps nervously.

They shifted from foot to foot, hands clenching and unclenching on their weapons, gazes shifting back and forth from one end of the alley to the other.

Etienne had better be right about them.

Until he had met Krysta, Etienne had not felt real fear in . . . almost two centuries. He had had some scary moments in the first years following his transformation, but nothing like this.

Krysta was wounded and bleeding and he had just entrusted her care to two vampires. He continued to monitor those vampires’ thoughts. But, if they changed their mind and either attacked her or left her to fend for herself, he may not be able to get back to her in time to save her.

The notion terrified him.

Sticking to the shadows, Etienne headed first for the building from which he knew a mercenary was playing sniper and guiding the others. He leapt up to the roof, not bothering to soften his landing.

The mercenary swung around. Eyes wide, he raised a tranquilizer gun. This was probably the bastard who had shot Krysta.

Etienne closed the distance between them and knocked the gun aside before the man could squeeze the trigger.

Wrapping one hand around the man’s throat and lifting him onto his toes, Etienne drew a tranquilizer dart—one with a human dose—from one of his pockets. “You wanted me,” he growled as the man fought his hold. “You got me.”

He shoved the dart into the man’s throat. The soldier had just enough time to realize what had happened and wet himself before he passed out.

Etienne dropped him and drew out his cell phone as he stepped off the roof.

“Oui?” Richart answered.

Etienne landed nimbly on the ground. “Mercenaries are attacking us at UNC,” he said, whisper soft. “Meet me at the northeast corner of Chapman Hall.”

Richart appeared a few feet away.

Etienne pocketed his phone and swiftly filled his brother in telepathically.

Drawing his weapons, Richart stared at him as they headed toward the larger group of mercenaries and came up behind them. You left two vampires guarding Krysta? Are you out of your fucking mind?

I hope not.

The mercenaries approached the entrance to the alley. Had they not all been edging forward with caution, they would have already reached it.

While Etienne dashed toward their front, blocking their entrance, Richart teleported directly into the middle of the group.

Etienne grinned as chaos erupted.

On the other side of Sitterson Hall, screams of pain split the night as the vampires went to work on the other group of mercenaries.

Etienne tore into the soldiers, trying to read the minds of those he killed or wounded. Most were so full of fear and hatred—almost as much hatred as he encountered in a vampire’s mind—that he couldn’t discern their leader’s name or the name of their PMC.

Bullets and tranquilizer darts flew in every direction. When one hit Etienne, he administered the antidote without missing a beat. The soldiers began to panic as their numbers dwindled and started taking out each other with friendly fire as they swung their weapons in wide arcs, trying to hit anything that moved.

Etienne lost count of the mercenaries they fought and wondered how the hell Chris would clean up something this big on a college campus. They were damned lucky it was often deserted this late.

Three mercenaries broke for the alley.

Etienne started after them, then stopped and resumed fighting when he heard Krysta fire her tranquilizer gun.

He heard one of the three vamps he had sent after the other contingent fall to a tranquilizer dart. The other two started to freak out and considered bolting.

Hold it together, he ordered sternly, remembering Tanner—Bastien’s Second—telling them that the vampires Bastien had led had all feared him. Fall back into the alley so the others can help you, but do not let any of the soldiers harm the woman. Fail me in this or flee the battle and I will torture you myself when I hunt you down.

He was actually a bit surprised when that snapped them out of it.

Several bullets slammed into his back.

Bastards. Etienne spun around and swung a sword at the shooter. No, two shooters.

Are you leaving any alive? Richart asked dryly.

Ummm . . .

Richart laughed.

Ah, hell. Krysta has run out of darts and is leaping into the fray in the alley.

Go to her. I have this.

Another quick head count yielded few enough soldiers left here that Etienne felt comfortable leaving his brother to face them alone. Because of his gift, Richart tended to fare far better than other young immortals when facing large numbers.

Etienne raced into the alley.

Half a dozen soldiers fought there.

All four vampires remained in perpetual motion as they darted in and out and around the men, delivering cuts and gashes and fatal wounds.

Krysta hung back, a sword in the hand of her uninjured arm, waiting for an opportunity.

The vamps parted. She darted in and swung, slicing through an arm wielding a tranquilizer gun, then jumped back as one of the vamps circled around again.

Damned if it didn’t look like they were all working together. Krysta must be wondering if Hell had frozen over.

The last two soldiers gave up on following orders and trying to bring them down alive. Planting their backs to each other, they opened fire with their silencer-equipped automatic weapons. Once again, panic shot through Etienne.

Krysta.

The smaller of the two vamps he had left guarding her tackled her and took her to the ground, covering her body with his. The other three vamps and Etienne were hit with bullets as Etienne rushed forward and cleaved the soldiers’ heads from their bodies.

Both dropped to the ground.

Stark silence engulfed them, broken only by the harsh breaths of Etienne and the vampires.

Richart appeared beside him. The vampire covering Krysta clambered to his feet. Krysta rose and, staring at the vamp in utter disbelief, sidled over to the d’Alençons.

Four vampires—bleeding from multiple wounds, standing side by side, hands still clutching weapons—faced them.

The silence stretched as all waited for action.

“Thank you,” Krysta said to the one who had taken several bullets for her.

He nodded once, jaw clenching, hand not loosening its hold on his blade.

She glanced at Etienne. “Now what?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’ve never gotten this far before.” Only Bastien had ever successfully recruited vampires.

Speaking of which . . .

He sheathed one of his weapons, drew out his phone again, and dialed.

“What?” Bastien answered.

“It’s Etienne. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I have a situation and could use your help.”

Bastien grunted. “I bet that hurt.”

“Where are you?” Etienne asked, refusing to take the bait.

“In Melanie’s office at the network.”

“Richart is on his way.”

He pocketed his phone and met his brother’s gaze. “He’s in Melanie’s office.”

Nodding, Richart vanished.

The vampires gasped.

“How does he do that?” the Tar Heel asked. According to his thoughts, his name was Jeremy. He seemed to be the most lucid of the group.

“Stick around and you’ll find out.” Etienne looked at the vamp on the far right, who was considering bolting. “Don’t run. You won’t get far and having to chase you will piss me off.”

The vampire swallowed.

“Now, all four of you did me a solid,” he went on, then looked to Krysta. “That’s a saying, right?”

Though her pretty face was pinched with pain, she smiled. “Yes.”

He returned his attention to the vamps. “All of you did me a solid, so you can relax and stop worrying about me attacking you.”

Jeremy’s shoulders loosened a bit. “What about Kenny?”

“The one felled by the tranquilizer dart?”

“Yes.”

“I’m good with him, too.” Satisfied that the vamps were in line, he carefully pulled Krysta into a hug. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, leaning into him. “Do you think Richart could take me home to Sean while you guys work out whatever it is you’re going to do?”

He swore. “I should have had him do that first.”

She shook her head. “I would have missed out on the hug.”

One of the vamps—Ben, according to his thoughts—leaned toward another and whispered, “Is it me or does this look like it’s about to turn into a chick flick?”

Krysta laughed, then grunted in pain.

Etienne put just enough distance between them to peel off her coat.