He glanced at the caller ID. “One moment, please.” Turning away slightly, he answered. “Oui?” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Maintenant? . . . Je suis dans le milieu de quelque chose . . .” He groaned. “Bien. Bien. Deux minutes.”
He pocketed the phone.
“Squirrels in My Pants?” she couldn’t resist asking.
His handsome face lit with a faint smile. “Inside joke. I’m afraid I must leave.”
“Places to go, vampires to party with?”
He shook his head and backed away. “Go home, Krysta.”
How the hell did he know her name?
And why did hearing him say it induce shivers of pleasure?
“No more hunting,” he ordered. Or implored.
She just couldn’t read this guy. She was attracted to him, damn it, and it was warping her judgement. So she said nothing.
“Promise me,” he insisted.
“I promise,” she said. “No more hunting.”
His handsome face relaxed into an easy grin.
“Tonight,” she added. “No more hunting tonight.” She needed to take a step back and try to absorb everything she had learned.
His scowl returned. “Stubborn wench. Until we meet again then.” He bowed. “Bonne nuit.”
His form blurred and dashed around the corner, moving so swiftly ordinary humans wouldn’t be able to follow him with their eyes. He could run past some and all they would feel or notice was the breeze his passing created.
But Krysta could follow his aura. It lit up the night.
Hurrying to the corner, she peered around the building’s edge.
Étienne was a distant, dark figure surrounded by phosphorescent, constantly shifting white and purple near the frat house.
In the blink of an eye, a second dark figure with an identical aura joined him.
She gasped. The other’s aura hadn’t approached from any direction. It—he—had just appeared out of thin air.
The stranger touched Étienne’s shoulder. Both vanished.
Her knees weakening, Krysta leaned against the rough bricks of the building beside her.
There were two of them. Two vampires with that fascinating aura she had never before beheld.
And one of them could teleport.
Or could both of them? She hadn’t heard or seen Étienne’s approach tonight. One second she had been demanding he show himself. The next he had spoken behind her.
After talking with him, she had assumed he had just jumped down from the roof. Had he instead teleported?
Was that even what it was called? Teleporting? It sounded so sci-fi. Not vampirish at all.
Sighing, she took out her cell phone and called Sean.
A moment later, their battered Dodge Shadow halted before her and the passenger door sprang open.
Her brother’s curious gaze pierced her as she sank into the bucket seat and slammed the door.
“No luck tonight?” he asked.
Kinda hard to miss the lack of blood splatter.
She shook her head.
He sent her an encouraging smile. “Maybe you killed them all.”
She laughed. “I wish.”
He began the journey home. “You must have scared them off. You haven’t gone this long without fighting one in a few years.”
She made some noncommittal sound as guilt consumed her. She should tell him about Étienne. She actually opened her mouth to do so three or four times as the engine stuttered and struggled to get them home. But what could she say? I’m being stalked by that gorgeous vampire you saw me with two weeks ago. No, he doesn’t fight me. He claims he’s protecting me. Yes, the vampire. Yes, by all appearances, he is protecting me. He keeps killing all of the vampires I hunt. No, I don’t know what his game is. And, yes, I’m attracted to him. That’s right—attracted. As in I would love to see him naked. It’s sick. I get it. He’s a bloodsucking vampire. But I can’t help it. My freaking heart pounds every time he comes near me and it isn’t from fear that he’ll kill me.
She gazed into the blackness beyond the passenger window.
There was just something about him. Something mesmerizing.
Her reflection’s brow furrowed.
Was she losing it? Was the strain of six years of battling vampire after insane vampire beginning to get to her? Or . . .
A chill skittered through her.
Was the vampires’ madness rubbing off on her? Was it contagious?
She had been bitten that one time seven years ago. She had assumed, because she hadn’t turned into a vampire overnight, that there had been no long-term damage. What if she were wrong? What if the madness that crippled vampires had slowly but surely been finding and securing a home in her?
Fear cut through her veins like diamonds.
Could it be true? Could that be it?
Even if one bite couldn’t do it, she had been exposed to their blood countless times over the years in battle. How many times did it take?