Love Bites (11 page)

“What woman could live without chocolate?”

Rachel glanced to the speaker—Jeanne Louise, a woman as beautiful in her way as Lissianna and Marguerite, though she looked nothing like them. Her
face was rounder, her lips a little thinner, her eyes more exotic and her hair a midnight black. She was a cousin to Lissianna and niece to Marguerite, and while Rachel liked all three women, Jeanne Louise was someone with whom Rachel was pretty sure she could be best friends. The woman worked for Argeneau Industries in their labs, and had regaled her with stories of the work she did. She'd been rather vague until realizing Rachel had no problem following what she was saying; then excited to find someone who had a working knowledge of experimental techniques and jargon, the other woman went into depth, fascinating Rachel with the tests she was performing. It seemed Argeneau Industries was as interested in medical research as anyone else.

The two women had only stopped talking once the games started, which were, much to Rachel's amazement, the usual at wedding showers. At that point, it had all seemed so pedestrian she might have forgotten the guests were vampires. Rachel sat silent for a while, simply noting the different looks and personalities in the room. The guests were all different: short women, tall women, beautiful women, homely women. As for personalities, there were a couple of sophisticated types who seemed to drawl their words and look down their noses; girl-next-door types who were sweet and kind; a few smart-girl types who looked slightly uncomfortable and spoke softly; and there was even a vampy vamp in a skintight black outfit who teased
Lissianna unendingly about the wedding night to come. It was your basic mix, just like your everyday shower.

Forgetting that Marguerite could read her mind, Rachel had been startled when the woman suddenly leaned close and murmured, “Of course it is, dear. We're normal people, just as you are.”

“Except that you're all several hundred years old and likely to get a lot older,” she'd pointed out.

“So will you,” Marguerite reminded her with amusement. “But we're all still just people. Think of us like cars. We have extra rust protection that will make us last longer, but we're still just cars in the end—with the same worries and concerns as cars without rust proofing. Besides,” she'd added, “there are a couple of girls here who are under a hundred. Jeanne Louise is only ninety-two.”

Rachel had turned to look at the beautiful lab technician and shaken her head. “She's the sexiest ninety-two I've ever seen.”

Jeanne Louise had overheard the comment and laughed.

“Besides, Black Forest blood cake doesn't sound very appetizing at all,” she was saying now.

Drawn back to the conversation at hand, Rachel sliced off a piece. “No, it doesn't. I don't know how you manage to stomach ingesting blood. Etienne says it's an acquired taste, but I seem to be having trouble.
If it weren't for the pain and weakness when I don't get it, I'd give up.”

She forked herself some cake and started to chew, then paused when Jeanne Louise and Marguerite exchanged a glance. Rachel didn't know if it was her improving instincts or not, but she was positive the women were conversing mentally. About her. Eyebrows raised in question, she asked, “What?”

“Nothing, dear.” Marguerite patted her arm and smiled. “Enjoy your cake. And here, have some tea.”

Rachel accepted the tea, and she ate and drank in silence for a moment, simply listening to the talk around her. Then she asked Marguerite, “How long did it take you to adjust to ingesting blood?”

This time she didn't mistake the glance Jeanne Louise and Marguerite exchanged. They
were
talking silently about her. Then Etienne's mother smiled and said, “I adjusted relatively quickly, dear. Right away, really. But it was different, then. There were no blood banks. We had to eat ‘off the hoof,' as we used to say.”

Rachel didn't even try to hide her horror. “Off the hoof?”

“Well…” Marguerite smiled and shrugged. “You call corpses crispy critters and such to help disassociate yourself from the unpleasantness of them being dead. We, much in the same way, had phrases and such to distance ourselves emotionally from having to feed off otherwise perfectly lovely people.”

“Oh.” Rachel nodded. She then ate in silence, her
mind consumed with the thought that people like her family and friends were now her main food source. How icky was that? It was definitely one of the negatives to this deal. She was almost relieved that biting was not allowed any longer. Biting people might be easier and make for fewer dishes, but at least the packaging allowed her to pretend she wasn't eating people. She supposed it was like the difference between buying meat in the grocery store and slaughtering your own cow.

Lissianna opened her gifts after the food was done. She got some lovely things and seemed to really like the cream-colored negligee Rachel had chosen for her.

Beverages were then served—the beverages Rachel had expected all along. Long-stemmed wine goblets full of blood were produced. Rachel took hers but merely held it, not wanting to gag or otherwise embarrass herself in front of these people as she circulated. They were all lovely women, and all too kind to comment on the way her teeth kept popping in and out every time she caught a whiff of blood. The tinny scent didn't appeal to her, but her teeth certainly seemed to like it. Obviously she needed to work on that problem. Etienne had insisted it wasn't as important as learning to actually consume the blood, but Rachel found it rather embarrassing today and decided to talk to him when she returned home that night.

That thought caught her by surprise and made her pause. Home? She'd meant Etienne's home, which wasn't her home. She was becoming far too comfortable there. Perhaps even too comfortable with Etienne himself. The man had saved her life in return for her saving his but, as far as she could tell, that was the only relationship they had. He certainly hadn't shown her anything but friendship and kindness.

Well, that first night he had…but then it had been her who attacked him. And, much to her disappointment, he hadn't acted interested in her since. At least while she was awake. In her dreams, the man came to her every night and tortured her. Erotic kisses and caresses he gave, and all that left her wound up and unsatisfied because they always ended abruptly before Rachel could find satisfaction. It seemed she hadn't quite got the hang of wet dreams yet. She knew they didn't leave Sylvia frustrated and wanting, so she was obviously doing something wrong. Her mind shied from completion for some reason.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Rachel. I hope we see you at the wedding. Are you going?” Jeanne Louise asked.

Rachel tore herself from her thoughts and glanced around in surprise. Everyone was gathering their things and preparing to leave. It seemed the shower was over.

“She's certainly invited,” Lissianna announced as she joined them. “And I
hope
she'll attend.”

“It depends on whether we have that other matter cleared up,” Marguerite said. Looking thoughtful, she added, “Although, if we were to change her looks somewhat and call her R. J. instead of Rachel, there shouldn't be any trouble with Greg's family recognizing her from the news footage.” She nodded. “Yes, we might manage it.”

“Good,” Lissianna said firmly. She hugged Rachel. “I'd like you to be there. I think we'll be grand friends. Like sisters.”

Rachel smiled, but she didn't miss the exchange of glances between Marguerite and Lissianna. She really had to make Etienne teach her the mind-reading business. She felt sure the silent conversations going on here were much more important than the verbal ones.

 

“Damn!” Rachel slammed the mug of blood down and glared at it furiously. She just couldn't stomach the stuff. She'd managed to work herself up to being able to gulp down a couple swallows, but the taste was so vile and the smell so putrid that her mind and stomach rebelled.

“You're doing better,” Etienne assured her. “Soon you'll be able to manage it without a problem.”

Rachel glared at him, then stood and paced to the kitchen window to glare out at the starlit night sky. She hadn't been out of the house in the two days since the shower, and it felt like that was weeks ago. She was starting to go stir-crazy, locked up in this house
all day and night with nothing to do but read and try to consume blood. She was sick of it. She needed fresh air. She could also use some damned exercise. Her nightly erotic dreams had continued, but still without any satisfaction. Every time, just before Rachel got to the point she wanted, the dream stopped abruptly. She was wound as tightly as a clock.

“I have to get out of here,” she announced, turning to glare at Etienne, as if her edginess was his fault. “I need fresh air and exercise and…I just need to get out of here. Now.”

Etienne was silent for a moment. At first he looked reluctant, but then he nodded. “I have an idea. Wait here. I'll be right back.”

Scowling, Rachel watched him hurry from the room. She very much feared he would take her for a nice moonlight walk, something sedate and stately. She didn't want sedate and stately. She needed hot, sweaty exercise to work off the sexual tension that was cramping her body. If anyone had suggested it to her before she'd been turned, Rachel would never have believed that life as a vampire could be so damned boring.

“This is great! Just what I needed.”

Etienne smiled at Rachel's excitement, leading her to an open table where they were seated. His idea was obviously inspired. He didn't usually go to the Night Club—a private club solely for vampires, open from sunset to sunrise—but he had understood Rachel's desires. He was in dire need himself. After several nights of shared dreams interrupted each time by a repeat of that first phone call, he was ready to burst.

Etienne now had no doubt that Pudge was making those nightly calls, but he didn't know what to do. He considered just leaving the phone off the hook but worried about family being able to contact him if there was an emergency. Thus, every night he had left the phone on the hook, gone to sleep, and joined
Rachel in some of the most erotic dreams he'd ever had—only to be interrupted at that crucial junction. If her frustration level was as high as his, only a visit to the Night Club would help relieve it.

At least he hoped this visit would work, for both their sakes. He had to work off some tension or he was likely to jump Rachel soon—something he didn't want to do until he had a better idea how she felt about him. Relationships were difficult when one couldn't read the other's mind. Etienne had never been one to control a woman and make her want him, but if he found a woman attractive and read her mind to find that she was equally interested, in the past he had been able to approach the situation with more confidence. With Rachel, he was feeling his way around a minefield.

Of course, he knew she was attracted to him, but he wasn't sure how much of that was just gratitude for saving her life. He wanted more than gratitude from this woman. He had decided they would do very well together as life mates, so that was what he was working toward. But he had never done that before, so he felt rather like he was stumbling around in the dark. Etienne had never felt at quite such a disadvantage before. He'd never had so much on the line. He didn't like it.

“Wow! This is a happening place!”

Etienne smiled as Rachel bounced enthusiastically in her seat, tapped her fingers and feet to the music,
and glanced around. It was obvious that she wanted—perhaps even needed—to dance. He opened his mouth to suggest just that, but then his gaze shifted over the dance floor and took in the hip-bumping and wild gyrations of the dancers. He'd been something of a dandy in his day, had kept up with the popular dances of the time, right up until he had become bored with the interchangeable women he was bedding, but when he had grown tired of that, he had cut back on the social life bit by bit until it had died altogether. He now didn't have a clue what the people on the dance floor were doing. It looked like half of them were having some sort of seizure.

“Yo! Cousin!”

Etienne glanced around at that exclamation, an affectionate grin curving his lips as he spotted his cousin Thomas. Rising he hugged the younger man and slapped his back.

“I can't believe you're here, man!” Thomas said. “Talk about a shocker! What's it been? A century?”

“Not that long,” Etienne answered dryly.

“Nearly,” Thomas insisted. Then he glanced at Rachel with interest. “You must be Rachel. Jeanne was talking about you. I'm her brother Thomas. You can call me Tom.”

Rachel smiled and accepted his hand. “You must mean Jeanne Louise. I really enjoyed talking to her at Lissianna's shower. She's your sister?” Her eyes took in Thomas's stylish hair and his tight black T-shirt and
leather pants, with amusement, Etienne hoped. “Let me guess; you're her
younger
brother? Twenty-eight or twenty-nine to her ninety-two?”

“Wrong.” He grinned. “I'm older. Two hundred and six. Mom wants to have another baby, but she has to wait another ten years or so.”

“Oh, yes.” Rachel made a face. “I forgot about the hundred-year rule.”

Thomas chuckled, then glanced over Rachel much the same way she had looked at him—only his attention was on the way her hands and feet, nearly her whole body, were moving to the music. She was pretty much dancing in place. “You're gonna be dancing on a table in a minute if someone doesn't intercede,” he teased lightly. “You look like a woman who needs to groove.”

Rachel laughed. “How very astute of you to notice.”

“What can I say? I'm an astute dude,” he teased. Taking her hand, he said, “Come on, I'll be your knight in leather pants and take you to the dance floor.”

Etienne grimaced as Rachel went off with his cousin. She hadn't even looked his way. He shouldn't have hesitated over dancing, he told himself with irritation. He should have taken her straight out there. It was what they both needed.

“You snooze, you lose, cousin.”
Those laughing words reminded Etienne that he was in a vampire haven where several of the more powerful vampires could read his thoughts. Including his cousin. He had
obviously become too used to his own company, where guarding his thoughts wasn't necessary.

Irritated with himself, Etienne firmly slammed his mind closed to keep others from probing his thoughts. Then he settled back in his seat, watching with irritation as Thomas and Rachel began to have their own seizures on the dance floor.

 

“So, how are you getting along with Cousin Etienne?”

Rachel smiled and shrugged. “Fine. He's a nice guy.”

“Oh, man!” Thomas grabbed his chest as if she'd stabbed him. “Nice? That's the kiss of death.”

Rachel laughed at his dramatics, even more amused when he arched one eyebrow several times and said, “That makes it obvious my cousin isn't making moves. He needs a poke, I think. Come on, let's poke him.”

Much to Rachel's confusion, Thomas's idea of poking Etienne was to pull her into his arms and begin dancing in a slow style to the hiphop beat around them.

“Er…Thomas, have you noticed this is a fast song?” Rachel had to yell to be heard over the music.

His hands slid down her back to rest on her behind. “Yeah. Etienne's noticed too,” he yelled back, drawing her closer still and laughing. “Here he comes! Definitely poked! You can thank me later, dudette—I'll be your knight in shiny leather any day.” He gave her
a slap on the behind, then unhanded her as Etienne appeared. With an innocent expression, he yelled, “Cutting in?”

Etienne's answer was a smoldering look that made Rachel incredulous. Had she wondered if he was interested in her? The jealousy and anger on his face seemed to suggest that he was. Yet he hadn't acted anything but friendly when they were alone.

She didn't get the chance to ponder the matter further. Etienne ignored the fast-paced music just as Thomas had, and pulled her into his arms. She hadn't thought it possible, but he actually held her closer than his cousin, and whereas Thomas's hands had rested lightly on her rump, Etienne took a firm grip, steering her around the dance floor. Rachel was plastered against his front, intimately aware of every bump and curve in the man's physique in a way that was breathtaking. After only a couple of moments, she was feeling hot, breathless, and in desperate need of a drink.

Much to her relief, when she suggested it to Etienne, he concurred at once. He escorted her back to their table. Thomas had apparently decided to join them. He was seated there and grinned at them widely when they arrived.

Etienne scowled at the younger vampire as he pulled out Rachel's chair—a gesture she hadn't experienced in her whole life of modern dating. He said, “Behave. I'll be right back.”

Rachel watched him leave with surprise. He disappeared into a door marked with the international symbol for a man. The bathroom.

“Drinks, people?”

Rachel peered uncertainly at the waitress smiling at her. Then her gaze drifted helplessly to Thomas. “I'm not sure what they have,” she admitted, feeling a little lost. It being a vampire bar, she presumed they served blood here. But did they serve other drinks?

“Allow me,” he suggested. Rachel would have been relieved by the offer, except for the way the man was grinning. “Two Sweet Ecstasies and a Virgin Mary.”

“What's a Virgin Mary?” Rachel asked suspiciously as the waitress walked away. She supposed that the Sweet Ecstasies were for the men and the Virgin Mary for her. Thomas's answer corrected her misconception.

“Blood, Worcestershire and Tabasco sauce with a squeeze of lemon. I like hot and spicy,” he said with a grin.

“Oh,” Rachel said faintly. The drink sounded disgusting. She was almost afraid to ask what was in the Sweet Ecstasy.

“Sometimes it's better not to know.” Thomas leaned forward so that he wouldn't have to yell. He had obviously read her thoughts. It was rather annoying not to be able to have a thought of your own without people listening all the time. Rachel was much more comfortable with just Etienne, who claimed not to be
able to read her mind. If he was lying and really could, at least he was polite enough not to comment.

“It doesn't matter,” she answered Thomas. “I should have warned you not to bother if all they serve here is blood. I haven't quite mastered the technique of ingesting it yet.” She shuddered at the very thought.

Thomas considered her for a moment. Rachel suspected he was sifting her brain for what might be the problem, then he nodded. “Don't worry about it. My sister-in-law had the same problem. We found a fix. I'll show you when the waitress brings the drinks.”

Rachel felt a moment's hope that he really might have a solution; then her thoughts turned to wondering what was in the Sweet Ecstasies he had apparently ordered.

“They have all sorts of drinks here,” Thomas said, obviously reading her thoughts again. “Some are mixed drinks like the Virgin Mary, which is straight blood with something added, and others are specialty bloods. Like Sweet Tooth.”

“Sweet Tooth?” Rachel asked.

“Mmm.” He nodded. “The blood of diabetics. Aunt Marguerite really likes those,” he added before continuing. “Then there is high iron or high potassium blood. Oh, and High Times. That's a drink made from the blood of pot smokers.”

“No way!” Rachel gaped at him.

“Sure. Get the buzz without the damage to the lungs that smoking causes.” He chuckled at her expression.

Rachel stared at him for a moment in disbelief, then asked, “So, do they have one with a high alcohol content?”

“Oh, yeah. It's called Wino Reds. Etienne's dad was big on that drink.
Real
big.”

The way he said it made Rachel ask, “An alcoholic?”

“Yeah.” He nodded solemnly. “We have alcoholics and druggies just like the regular population. We just have to consume it through blood.”

“Alcoholic vampires,” Rachel muttered, hardly able to believe it.

“I'll tell you a secret.” Thomas leaned across the table again so that their heads almost met. “They were all worried about Lissi following in her father's footsteps for a while.”

“No.” Rachel sat back in shock. “Etienne's sister?”

“Yes.” He nodded solemnly. “She was a hemophobic from childhood on.”

“Yes. Etienne mentioned that. So, was she drinking to get over it, or—”

“No. She didn't drink. At least not the way you mean. Lissianna had to live at home and take her blood intravenously for the first couple hundred years. It was so bad she couldn't even hook herself up. Marguerite had to control her mind and put her to sleep to do it. But then, when old Claude died—”

“Claude?” Rachel interrupted.

“Marguerite's husband. He drank too much Wino
Reds, passed out with a lit cigarette in his hand, and burned to death.”

“So fire can kill us?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah. Fire. Having your head cut off and destroying or stopping the heart too,” he informed her. After a moment, to be sure she didn't have any more questions, he returned to the story. “When Claude died so suddenly, Lissianna was really shook up. You know, death happens so rarely to us that it shakes everyone up. Anyway, she decided she needed to be more independent. She needed to ‘live her life,' she said. So she took social work at the university, got a job in a local shelter, and moved out on her own.”

“How did she feed if she—”

“That was the problem. We're not allowed to bite as a rule, but in some instances—emergencies, for instance—it's allowed. And because of her hemophobia, Lissianna was allowed.” He glanced toward the men's room door, but there was no sign of Etienne. Thomas turned back and continued. “The concern was her choice of victim. She chose clients of the shelter. They were close at hand and easy to prey on. The problem was, a lot of them were alcoholics or druggies. Lissi tried to avoid those, but sometimes…” He shrugged.

“Her family worried, obviously,” Rachel murmured.

Thomas nodded. “About a year ago, Marguerite decided enough was enough and kidnapped a human psychologist to treat her hemophobia.”

“Kidnapped?” Rachel gasped.

Thomas laughed. “It's all right. Lissianna freed him…eventually. The psychologist was Gregory Hewitt.”

“Her fiancé?” Rachel shook her head.

“Telling family secrets, Thomas?”

Rachel and Thomas started guiltily as Etienne dropped into the seat next to her.

“Well, she's practically a member of the family, isn't she?” Thomas answered defensively.

Rachel glanced from one man to the other as they stared at each other. There were undercurrents here she didn't understand, and she had no idea what Thomas meant. Was she now considered a member of the family because she was a vampire? They had obviously taken her under their wing to train and assist with the change, but did she now have a new family? One that would long outlive the family she had been born into?

“Here we go!” The arrival of the waitress brought an end to the uncomfortable moment. “Who gets the Virgin Mary?”