“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 Étienne’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 Étienne 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.#p#分页标题#e#
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 Étienne 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 Étienne’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 Étienne, 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 Étienne was wounded badly enough, he may simply be sleeping too deeply for the phone to awaken him.”