“Yes.”
“Every structure was leveled!”
“Yes.”
“The casualty list was—”
“I know.”
Sliding her legs off the cushions, she placed some distance between them. Her look turned uneasy. “That’s a lot of dead men, Ethan. A lot of dead humans.”
“Dead humans and dead vampires,” he corrected.
“What?”
“Shadow River infected a third of their soldiers with the virus.”
Her lips parted.
“The vampire mercenaries alternated their time between training for battle, preying upon humans, and hunting Immortal Guardians.”
“Why would they hunt you?”
“The higher-ups at Shadow River knew they would have to kill off their soldiers a year after infecting them in order to avoid the soldiers descending into madness. An uncontrollable army, after all, is of no use to anyone.”
She nodded.
“When the mercenary leaders discovered that immortals don’t suffer the insanity vampires do, they wanted to get their hands on a few of us so they could study us, dissect us, and determine the whys of it.”
“They didn’t know about your DNA?”
“No. They just knew we were different.”
She remained quiet for a long time. “The slaughter at that compound was all my dad—and everyone else I encountered who was either military or law enforcement—talked about for weeks.”
“We couldn’t afford to leave any survivors. Doing so in the past came back and burned us in a bad way.”
“But there were survivors. A dozen men—”
“Those were Chris’s men, posing as mercenaries. And there were losses on both sides, Heather. Chris lost men. Dozens were wounded. And we lost two of my immortal brethren.”
Silence enveloped them.
“Do you fear me now?” he asked hesitantly.
“No.” The inflection in her voice told him nothing.
“What are you thinking? I can’t tell if you’re angry or uneasy or . . .”
“Honestly, I’m not sure what I’m feeling right now. I’m a military brat. So it’s hard for me to hear about soldiers being slain in such numbers.”
“Those men weren’t military.”
“But they still probably had families.”
“They didn’t. Shadow River was very selective when it came to recruiting soldiers. They knew they would eventually kill every man they infected with the virus, so they couldn’t afford for the soldiers to leave behind family members who might ask questions, file wrongful death lawsuits, or bring unwanted media attention to the program. And, if it helps, Lisette and the other telepaths read the minds of many of the mercenaries and said those men would’ve sold their own daughters, if they’d had any, for a profit. They were not honorable men. They were in it for money, not country. They would have fought for whatever government or terrorist organization offered them the highest pay, even if it meant killing their own countrymen.”
A couple more minutes of tense silence ticked away as Ethan waited for her to respond.
“I know I already asked this,” Heather said finally, “but I feel the need to do it again. Are there any other revelations you’d care to make while I’m sitting down?”
He fought a smile, relieved that she still seemed to feel no malice toward him. “I think that’s enough for today.”
“Good. This is all a little hard to take in. I mean, the whole vampires-being-real thing was big enough. Immortals, and gifted ones, and Shadow River thrown on top of that kinda has things teetering toward being too much for me, at least for now.”
“I imagine so. I apologize for hitting you with all of this at once. I’m just concerned for your safety.”
“At least I understand now why you were so pissed at Chris for offering me the job.”
“You aren’t going to take it, are you?” He really didn’t want her to take it. Lisette had been right. The enemy they faced now was more dangerous than all of the enemies they had faced in the past combined simply because they had no way of knowing when or how he would strike next. Gershom was as old and powerful as Seth and Zach and, for whatever reason, was bent on triggering fucking Armageddon.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m feeling a little brain dead right now and can’t think about it, but,” she added when he opened his mouth to again try to dissuade her, “your objections and concerns for my safety will play a role in my decision when I make it.”
He supposed he couldn’t hope for more than that.
“You look beat,” she said, her lips curling up in a sympathetic smile.
He sighed. “I am.”
“Me too. I think all of the adrenaline and fear and everything else has just sucked the energy right out of me. Would you like to try to get some sleep?”
His pulse leapt as images of lying beside Heather filled his mind . . . of turning toward her in bed, pulling her to him, and—
“Your eyes are glowing again,” she whispered.
He swore and brought a hand to them as if he could rub the damned luminescence out of them. “I’m sorry. I had a fleeting image of lying in bed with you and . . .”
“Oh.” Her tone reflected surprise and he couldn’t decide what else.
“I know. But I promise I’m not a total degenerate. I’m just tired and seem to have no control over my body when I’m around you.” Lowering his hand, he forced himself to meet her gaze and almost did a double take.
A wide smile brightened her features. “That is so cool.”
He arched a brow. “What is?”
“I don’t have to guess if you’re attracted to me because it’s all right there in your eyes. And I don’t mean in a corny chick-flick kind of way. But in a Bam! in-your-face kind of way. It’s like a sexual barometer or a mood ring.”
He laughed. “Well, it’s not so cool from my perspective, because I can’t hide it. You, on the other hand, can, so I have no idea what you think of me.”
Her smile softened as she studied him. “I’m attracted to you, too, Ethan. But I’m annoyingly old-fashioned and don’t take sex as casually as most of my peers do. Feel free to blame my grandparents. I spent a lot of time around them when I was growing up.”
“I’m a century older than you, or thereabouts, so you can’t be more old-fashioned than I am.” He grimaced. “Hell. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned my age, should I?”
“Relax. You don’t look a day over sixty.”
Sixty!
She burst into laughter and patted his knee. “I’m just kidding. You know you’re hot.”
Ethan groaned. “You’re evil.”
“And you’re tired. Why don’t you sleep for a bit. I signed the confidentiality agreement, so you don’t have to worry about me trying to sneak pictures of your fangs or calling all the news outlets while you rest.”
Smiling, he shook his head. “And what will you do while I sleep?”
“Find a permanent marker and draw a mustache and bushy eyebrows on your face.”
He laughed. “I really like you, Heather.”
“I like you, too. So . . . get some sleep. The bedroom is through there.”
“What will you do while I rest?”
“Unless I’m called in to observe an interrogation, I’ll just read a book. Watch TV.” She winked. “Paint my toenails.”
“Damn, I hate to miss watching you paint your toenails.”
She laughed.
“May I crash here on the sofa beside you?” For some reason, he just wanted to be near her. Perhaps because he knew he would have no excuse to remain with her or to even see her again once the rain began to fall tonight.
She grinned. “Yes, you may crash on my sofa.”
Smiling, Ethan tugged off his boots and propped his big feet on her coffee table. Slouching down on the soft cushions, he folded his hands on his stomach and closed his eyes.
The sound of her heartbeat soothed him as her scent followed him into dreams.
Chapter Six
“Stupid weathermen,” Heather muttered. Her gaze shifted from the television screen to the large immortal warrior who slumbered on her sofa.
Ethan had slept deeply all day while she had puttered around the house, trying to stay busy so she wouldn’t just sit and stare at him.
He was incredibly handsome, with all of the heavy muscle of a cover model, but none of the soft pretty-boyishness. Perhaps it was the dark beard stubble that lent him a rugged air. Or maybe the strong, angular jaw.
She had caught up on all of the household chores she abhorred, had showered and changed, then had finally given up on trying to ignore Ethan a couple of hours ago and had reclaimed her seat beside him.
He hadn’t changed positions all day until then. She had wondered if something might be wrong, how someone with exceptionally keen hearing could sleep through all of the racket she had made washing dishes, slamming the stubborn dryer’s door, or blow-drying her hair.
But as soon as she had sat next to him, he had shifted. Drawing his legs up onto the cushions, he had curled up beside her and lowered his head to her lap, the back of his head resting against her belly. While she had stared down at him, unsure where to put her hands, he had snuggled closer and draped an arm across her legs, curling one hand over her hip.