“So there are more like you.”
Etienne stared at her, wanting to trust her.
A sharp pain pierced his neck.
Wincing, he reached up, felt something protruding from the skin, and removed it.
“What’s that?” Krysta asked.
His blood went cold as he stared down at the tiny object his fingers clutched.
“Is that a tranquilizer dart?” she asked, voice full of confusion.
Yes, it was. Merde.
“Run,” he ordered as weakness began to infiltrate him.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. This shouldn’t be possible.
“What?” She started to approach him.
Etienne shook his head. “Run!” He closed the distance between them, retrieved her weapons from the ground, and urged her toward the corner of the nearest building. “Call your brother. Choose a safe place for him to meet you a few blocks from here and run there. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. And don’t let anyone follow you home.”
“I don’t understand. What’s going on? Why is your accent getting thicker? What—?”
Another sting. Etienne yanked another dart from the back of his neck and swore foully. The shooters were definitely behind them.
His knees weakened. He didn’t carry the autoinjector containing the antidote anymore. He hadn’t thought there was a reason to. The human threat had been extinguished.
Hadn’t it?
“Please, Krysta. Just trust me on this. Go! Maintenant!”
As his strength waned, he shoved her hard and turned to face his attackers.
Still dizzy, Krysta stumbled and fell to her hands and knees behind the building. The weapons Etienne had thrust into her arms hit the ground a moment before gravel abraded her palms.
What the hell?
Cursing, she dusted off her stinging hands, grabbed the weapons, and spun around, ready to blister his ears.
Etienne staggered, as if he had lost his balance. Turning back to face the way they had come, he gave her his profile. His eyes flashed a brilliant amber.
Bullets slammed into his chest, the guns firing them barely making a sound. His body jerked again and again as blood sprayed from too many wounds to count.
Krysta stared in horror. “Etienne!”
The first wave ended.
He turned his head, met her gaze. “Run, damn you!” he growled. Blood poured from his mouth and down his chin. Drawing his swords, he roared and leapt forward, out of sight.
Krysta’s feet glued themselves to the ground. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
He had pushed her out of the way to save her. If Etienne hadn’t shoved her behind the building, she would have been shot to death beside him.
Her body began to shake uncontrollably.
He could have run. He could have left her there for whoever the hell it was to kill her.
Screams lit the night. The gunfire resumed.
Krysta transferred one of her swords to her left hand, drew out her cell phone, and dialed with shaking fingers.
“Yeah,” her brother answered on the first ring.
“I need you,” she hissed. “Now. Behind . . . Shit!” It took her a moment to get her bearings. “We’re in Research Park behind . . . or on the side of that Environmental Whatever Building. Just find me. Come quiet and stay low. Someone’s shooting at us.”
“What?”
“Just come now! Please! And hurry!”
Pocketing the phone, she drew in a deep breath (which wasn’t nearly as calming as she had hoped it would be), gripped her weapons, and headed for the edge of the building.
Crouching down, she peered around it.
Soldiers?
Men garbed in black camo and armed to the teeth with silencer-equipped automatic weapons were doing their damnedest to kill Etienne. Only they didn’t seem to actually want to kill him. They seemed to want to slow him down or weaken him with blood loss and whatever was in those darts.
And it was working.
Another dart hit Etienne in the throat even as he broke two soldiers’ necks.
He staggered, grabbed another soldier and sank his teeth into his throat.
Krysta’s mouth went dry.
She’d known all along he was a vampire, but seeing him drink blood . . .
The other soldiers evidently viewed their associate as expendable, because they continued to shoot.
Etienne used him as a shield while he drank and fired the man’s automatic weapon at the same time.
His victim sank to the ground, sightless eyes staring up at the sky.
Another dart struck Etienne in the arm.
He lurched sideways. Shook his head drunkenly.
Oh shit.
There were still three soldiers left.
Two moved in for the kill or to capture him or whatever the hell the plan was.
Krysta dropped her swords and drew two daggers. Without giving herself time to think, she stepped into the open and let them fly. One dagger struck a soldier in the throat. The second sank into another soldier’s heart. The third soldier turned his gun on her and fired. She ducked behind the building and hit the ground. Brick and mortar showered down on her as the high-caliber bullets passed right through the building.
A yelp split the night.
The bullets stopped.
“Krysta!”
Relief poured through her at the raspy call, bringing tears to her eyes. “Etienne!”
Scrambling to her feet, she peered around the corner of the building.
Every soldier was down.
Etienne still stood. Barely. Blood saturated his clothing. Dozens of holes perforated his shirt and coat and pants.
He stumbled forward a step and dropped to his knees.
As Krysta limped toward him, she looked around, praying no more soldiers would leap out of the darkness and start shooting.
“C-call your brother,” he wheezed. Fumbling in his pocket, he muttered something in French.
Just as she reached him, he collapsed backward onto the pavement.
Something clunked to the ground by his hip. A cell phone.
“He’s on his way,” she said, kneeling beside him. “Can I call someone for you?”
She picked up his phone and heard the telltale squeak of their car’s brakes, though her brother approached as quietly as he could.
Etienne closed his eyes and mumbled something else in French.
“I don’t understand.” Damn it. Why hadn’t she studied French in high school?
“Krysta?” Sean whispered.
“Over here!” she hissed as loudly as she dared, terrified that more men might be lurking nearby.
Nearly silent footsteps approached. “Oh shit,” her brother swore. “What the hell?”
“Come help me,” she ordered. Tucking Etienne’s phone in his coat pocket, she scooted around to cup his broad shoulders.
“Those don’t look like vampires,” Sean said as he joined her, his eyes on the fallen soldiers.
“They aren’t. They’re humans, and they tried to kill us.”
“Us?” He looked down at Etienne. “Is that . . . ?”
“Yes. Grab his feet.”
“No way. He’s a vampire.”
“And he saved my ass. Again. Come on. Grab his legs. We need to get the hell out of here before more of those guys come along.”
Etienne’s head lolled as they hefted his heavy form and began carting him to the car parked behind the building.
“Is he dead?” Sean huffed.
Etienne wasn’t disintegrating, so . . . “No. They drugged him with something.”
“And shot him all to shit?”
“Yes.”
“Who the hell are they?”
“I don’t know. But he does. As soon as he saw the tranquilizer dart . . .” She shook her head. “He knew what was coming.” Crap, he was heavy. “I didn’t hear anything or see anything. All of a sudden he just shoved me behind the building. Then they opened fire and he fought them.”
“Why didn’t he just run? They’re human. They’d never catch him. And they can’t shoot what they can’t follow.”
She met his gaze and said nothing.
“What? You’re saying—”
“He fought them to buy me time to get away. They would have killed me, Sean. They would’ve shot me, too. They tried to shoot me.”
He looked as confused as she felt.
Together they managed to cram Etienne’s long, muscled body into the backseat.
Sean slammed the door. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Wait.” Running back to the soldiers, she paused and swallowed hard. Creeping forward, she leaned down, grasped the bloodied handle of one of her daggers, and yanked it out of the dead soldier’s throat. The other’s lifeless eyes seemed full of accusation as she pulled her dagger out of his chest.
When she turned around, she found Sean staring at her somberly.
“Krysta, did you . . . ?”
She couldn’t meet his gaze. Limping forward, she circled the car. “Just get us out of here.”
The silence that filled the car as they drove away hurt more than her throbbing head did.
Tonight she had done something she never would’ve thought she could do. Something she didn’t know how she could justify.
Tonight she had killed humans to protect a vampire.
“He’s too long for the futon. Put him on my bed.” Krysta raced for the bathroom while Sean carried Etienne into her bedroom. Grabbing the vinyl shower curtain, she yanked it down and hurried after him.
“Wait.” She jerked the top covers back, spread the curtain over the bed to protect the mattress from bloodstains, covered it with a sheet, then stood back. “Okay.”
Sean dumped Etienne on the bed.
Etienne didn’t move.
“Are you sure he’s still alive?” Sean asked.
Biting her lip, Krysta leaned down and pressed two fingers to Etienne’s blood-slick throat. A long moment passed in which her heart slammed against her ribs and Etienne’s didn’t appear to do anything at all. “I don’t feel anything.” Throat thickening, she feared she might burst into tears.
