Even facing multiple vampires and mercenaries didn’t make him nervous. So what was up?
The two continued to arm themselves for the night’s hunt while she awaited his response. Cam was training with Sean in the home gym down in the basement.
Sean hadn’t been as pissed as she had thought he would be when she had transformed. He actually had seemed relieved that she would now be much safer when hunting.
Étienne cleared his throat and opened his mouth. Let it hang open. Closed it and turned back to the cabinet in which he kept his many daggers.
“Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad,” she coaxed. “Can it?”
He gave her a quick glance from the corner of his eye. “Do you have enough daggers?”
“Just tell me what it is!” she blurted, then clamped her lips shut. “I’m sorry. It’s just that imagining whatever catastrophe might make you nervous is beginning to make me nervous.”
“It isn’t a catastrophe,” he muttered. “Or wasn’t. I seem to be making it one. Cam warned me I would, damn him for being right.”
She pursed her lips.
Crossing to him, she took the dagger from his hand, slipped it into its sheath and turned him to face her. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”
He smiled. “Have I mentioned how much I like it when you call me that?”
She smiled. “Yes. So, what’s up?”
He leaned back against the cabinet and crossed his arms over his chest. “I talked to Chris earlier. He mentioned assigning you your own Second now that you’re immortal and said he has a couple of houses in mind for you and Sean to choose from.”
“Oh.” Her stomach sank. She had thought . . .
Well, she hadn’t thought. Not about this.
When she and Sean had first moved in, living with Étienne and Cam had been a temporary arrangement. She had even mentioned staying in a hotel. But then she had gotten to know Étienne and fallen hard for him. They had made love and admitted their feelings for each other. He had transformed her and helped her adjust to her new condition. They had spent nights hunting together and days . . .
She hadn’t slept in “her” bedroom in weeks. She spent the days with him in his. The subject of moving out had just never come up.
“I don’t want you to go,” he said.
Relief left her buoyant. “I don’t either. I mean, we never talked about it and I don’t want to push you into anything you aren’t ready for—”
“I love you, Krysta.” He straightened and took her hands. “I don’t think I could sleep without you beside me. I don’t want to sleep without you beside me. And I want you to be right there with me every evening when I wake up.”
“Me, too.”
He pulled her into his arms and claimed her lips in a kiss that seemed to carry with it everything she felt herself: relief, excitement, lust, love . . .
“Too bad we have that meeting tonight,” he said, trailing heated kisses down her neck.
Her pulse leapt. “We’re both immortal now. Can’t immortals have quickies?”
He laughed. “Immortals give quickies a whole new meaning. But . . .” He drew his hands up her sides and brushed her breasts with his thumbs. “I like to savor you.”
“That disappoints me and excites me all at the same time.”
He brushed her lips with his once more. “So you’ll stay with me? You’ll live here with me?”
“Yes.” Happily.
“How would you feel if I told you that I’m an old-fashioned guy—”
“I already knew that.”
“—and wish to marry you and spend the rest of eternity as your husband?”
She stopped breathing. “You want to marry me?” Marriage was big for immortals. For them, ’til death do us part could mean hundreds, even thousands, of years.
“More than anything,” he vowed, the sincerity in his voice unmistakeable.
Krysta threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.
“Is that a yes?” he asked, sliding his arms around her and burying his face in her hair.
“Yes. A very enthusiastic yes!”
He hugged her close and said with some regret, “I wanted more time to woo you.”
She grinned. “To what me?”
He popped her lightly on the butt. “Stop mocking me.”
She laughed. “I can’t help it. It’s fun.”
Straightening, he brushed her hair back from her forehead and cupped her face in his large hands. “I wanted to spend months courting you properly. I planned to spend months courting you properly once we’d quashed this latest threat. But Chris kept mentioning the damned house . . .”
“Étienne, you have been courting me.”