“That many?”
“Older immortals know far more. Seth knows them all. David, too, most likely.”
“All?”
“Even those that have long since been forgotten.”
Krysta wished she were fluent in more than one language. She had learned Spanish in high school, but had forgotten most of it. And her college career had been cut short by a vampire attack and her resulting obsession with hunting vamps.
“Say something else in French,” she requested.
A series of lilting indecipherable words flowed smoothly from his tongue.
“What did you say?” she asked curiously.
“Something I can’t repeat without you either blushing furiously or striking me.”
“Was it naughty?” she asked with a smile.
His smile turned wicked. “Very naughty.”
Now she really wanted to know what he had said.
“Does it trouble you?” he asked hesitantly.
“What? You talking dirty to me in French?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “No, that I’ve lived so long.”
“No.” And she wasn’t sure why. “Maybe because you don’t look your age.”
He grimaced. “I should hope not.”
Quiet fell.
A breeze ruffled their hair. His, she knew from burying her fingers in it, was thick and as soft as silk.
“This isn’t working,” he pronounced.
Crap. She shouldn’t have brought up his age. “Why? Is it because you think I’m too young for you?”
“What?” He stopped walking and faced her. “No. I was talking about our . . . outing.” Hunt, he added in her head, in case someone out of sight was listening.
“Oh. Right.”
“You aren’t too young for me.”
“Of course I’m not.”
He frowned. “Do you think you’re too young for me?”
“No.”
“We’re both adults.”
“Yes, we are.”
“There will be cultural differences, of course.”
“Could make things more interesting.”
He looked around, eyes sharp. Returning his attention to her, he tilted his head to one side. Moonlight filtered down through the trees and highlighted his handsome face. “What do you say we do this your way?”
Krysta wasn’t sure how to answer that. Were they talking about pursuing their attraction to each other or hunting? Or both? “What exactly are we talking about?” she asked, just to be sure.
His lips twitched. “I was talking about our outing. Why? What were you talking about?”
Smiling, she hit him in the shoulder. “Stop teasing me.”
He grinned. “Absolutely not. I’m enjoying it too much.” Again, he surveyed the campus around them. “As much as I love your delightful company, I think I should leave now. I’ve work to do and the night is passing quickly.”
“Really?”
He nodded and smiled again. “Go do your thing.”
Was he actually giving her the go-ahead to act as bait? She had assumed he intended to do all the hunting himself and was pretty much just letting her tag along.
“Okay.” Though she regretted having to give up his company.
I’ll monitor you from the rooftops, he added telepathically. Anytime you wish to speak to me, just direct your thoughts toward me as though I were standing before you and you were speaking them aloud and I should hear them.
Okay. Did you hear that?
He smiled. Yes.
Can you hear everything else I’m thinking?
He was silent a moment. No. Your barriers are still in place, so I can only hear what you wish me to hear.
Good.
He pursed his lips. Any naughty thoughts about me floating around up there?
Many many naughty thoughts.
He stepped closer to her. In case anyone is looking . . . Resting his hands on her waist, he drew her up against him and proceeded to kiss the stuffing out of her.
Fire licked through Krysta’s veins as she locked her arms around his neck. Her heart pounded a rapid beat as he slid his hands up her rib cage, his thumbs nearing her tingling breasts.
He murmured something in French in her mind.
Say it in English, she reminded him.
How you tempt me.
Good, because he tempted the hell out of her.
When he dragged his lips away, she was happy to discover his breathing was as ragged as hers.
“Good night,” he said, voice low and hoarse.
“Good night.”
Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips.
Krysta didn’t have to fake a stumble as she turned to walk away from him. Her knees were weak. All this time she had thought that was just corny crap found in chick flicks. She hadn’t realized passion really could weaken your knees.
She shook her head at herself. She was twenty-seven years old and no virgin. She should already know that, shouldn’t she?
As she walked up the sidewalk, exploring the quadrangles that hosted her favorite frat houses, she caught periodic glimpses of Étienne’s pretty white and purple aura leaping from roof to roof.