Love Bites (16 page)

He caught her blush out of the corner of his eye,
then she cuddled closer against him and said, “I find that hard to believe, Etienne. You've seen a lot of women.”

“But none of them were as lovely to me,” he assured her solemnly. “Even as a blonde.”

Rachel stopped dancing and peered into his face as if doubting him. Smiling softly, she simply said, “Thank you.” Then she grinned and added, “You're pretty hot yourself.”

“You think so?” Etienne asked.

“Oh, yes,” Rachel assured him. “You're very handsome. Sexy as hell, really. You have wicked eyes, a mischievous smile, and you're very intelligent. I've always had a weakness for intelligent men, Etienne.”

“Yeah?” He grinned. “You like smart guys, huh?”

“Mmm.” She nodded, amusement curving her lips. “Intelligence turns me on.”

“Yeah?” Etienne raised his eyebrows and smiled mischievously. “Onomatopoeia.”

Rachel blinked.

“Enkephalin.”

Rachel's bewilderment grew. What was Etienne doing? Thanks to her medical background, she knew that Enkephalin was a substance similar to morphine that could be found in the brain and was thought to help control pain response. But she had no clue why he spouted it. Before she could ask, he added, “Oxymoron.”

“Er…what are you doing?” she asked.

“Spouting big words to impress you with my intelligence.” Grinning, he asked, “Are you turned on yet?”

Rachel was so taken aback, a loud burst of laughter slipped from her lips, drawing the attention of those around them.

Etienne smiled and nodded at the other dancers, then turned back to her. He gave a sniff and feigned a scowl. “You aren't supposed to laugh at a guy when he's trying to woo you.”

“Is that what you're doing?” she asked.

“Yes. Is it working?”

Rachel chuckled and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I'm not sure. Maybe. Why don't you try a couple more big words?

“More, huh?” He wrapped his arms tighter around her. “Hmm…let's see. Ginormous. Dunnock.”

“What's that?” Rachel lifted her head to ask. It was the first word she hadn't known.

“A hedge sparrow.”

“Ah.”

“Shall I continue?” he asked.

“Please don't.”

Both Rachel and Etienne straightened in surprise at that dry request from Lucern. The dark-haired man was standing beside them on the dance floor, his solemn face pained. “I've been sent to inform you that Uncle Lucian wants a word with Rachel.”

Aware of the way Etienne stiffened, Rachel glanced at him curiously. “You have an uncle?”

“Yes.” He released a pent-up breath of resignation. “And he's a nasty old cur too.”

“That he may be, but he's also the head of the clan,” Lucern commented. “And he wants to talk to Rachel.”

“And what he wants, he gets?” she guessed.

“I'm afraid so,” Etienne said apologetically. His arm went protectively around her.

Rachel smiled reassuringly. “It will be fine, Etienne. I'm very good with people.”

“Uncle Lucian isn't people,” he said in grim tones. But, removing his arm, he took her by the elbow instead and led her across the dance floor. Lucern immediately fell into step on her other side.

Rachel smiled at the show of loyalty. She felt very protected as she was led to the head of their clan. Yet she was sure she didn't really need it. Rachel hadn't been kidding when she said she was good with people. She was quite confident that she could handle this nasty old cur just fine…and she continued thinking it right up until she was led to a table where a good-looking blond sat next to Etienne's mother.

It was the tense and anxious expression on Marguerite's face that finally shook Rachel's confidence. She had never seen it, and it didn't seem a good thing. Straightening her shoulders, Rachel forced a polite smile for the man she presumed was Etienne's uncle.

Lucian Argeneau was a very handsome man. He
was easily the handsomest man in attendance at the wedding. With his ice-blond hair and chiseled features, he would have fulfilled anyone's image of a Greek God. But, as he surveyed her, his expression was arctic, without a hint of any of the softer human emotions. If this man had ever felt anything like caring or love, those feelings had died or been killed off ages ago. The eyes he turned on Rachel were as empty as black pits.

She met his gaze and waited for him to offer a polite greeting, but there was none forthcoming. It didn't take but a moment to understand why. The man was reading her mind. That was a polite way to phrase it. In truth, he was raking her mind, searching every thought and feeling with a ruthlessness and lack of concern for her feelings that left her breathless. She could actually feel him in there, poking about and sifting through her thoughts. And he didn't care.

“You haven't spoken to her yet.” Lucian Argeneau's first words were addressed to Etienne, though he didn't take his gaze off Rachel.

“No.” Etienne made the confession just as coldly.

“You didn't want to anger her,” the man went on. “You've been trying to woo her to your side in the
hope
that she would concede to your wishes.”

Rachel gave a start, her gaze shooting to Etienne only to see his expression closed. He wasn't denying the accusation, however, and she felt all her enjoyment in the evening leak out of her like air from a
balloon. Had all their laughter and passion been nothing more than a means to an end?

“You're one of us now.”

Rachel jerked her eyes back to Lucian. That comment was meant for her, and she acknowledged it with a grim nod. “Yes, I am.”

“If you want to stay one of us, you'll do what's best for the clan,” she was informed.

“Really?” Rachel asked archly. “Is this reversible, then?”

“Death is the only release.”

“Is that a threat?” she asked.

“It's a statement of fact,” he said simply. “You've been given a gift. If you appreciate that, you'll act accordingly.”

“Or?” she queried, her eyes narrowed.

“Or you'll be treated like a threat.”

“Removed?”

“If necessary.” There was no shame or apology in that statement. It was a simple fact, stated the same way he might say the sun would rise in the morning. The words were all the scarier because of that.

“I see,” Rachel said slowly, then asked, “And what is it I'm to do?”

Marguerite suddenly put a hand on Lucian's arm, and though Rachel couldn't hear it, she knew that a silent conversation took place. Whatever Etienne's mother said must have been persuasive. Lucian Argeneau nodded once, then announced, “Etienne will
tell you. And if you know what's good for you, you'll listen.”

“There you are!”

Rachel gave a start when that cheerful cry intruded. It was followed by the arrival of a slender blonde who appeared at Lucian Argeneau's side and began to pet his shoulder and arm as if he were a cat. Rachel couldn't help noticing that while the woman was petting Lucian, she was the one purring.

“Lissianna,” the blonde said, “you really should have told us what handsome men you have in your family. Your brothers are beautiful, and your cousin is absolutely scrumptious.”

Rachel was surprised to hear Lucian Argeneau referred to as a cousin until she remembered that all the older relatives had been relegated to such connections to hide their ages from Greg's side of the family. There would have been too many questions had Marguerite been introduced as mother and Lucian as uncle. As far as the Hewitt clan was concerned, the Argeneaus were made up of the younger generation with absolutely no surviving older relatives.

Rachel wasn't terribly surprised that several of the single women in Greg's family were fawning over the Argeneau men in a way that was almost painfully embarrassing to witness.

“I grew up surrounded by them, Deeanna. I hardly notice their looks anymore. I only notice them now when they act like coldhearted bastards.”

Rachel glanced over her shoulder to see Lissianna and her new husband, as well as Bastien, had joined their small party and were all standing behind her. She hadn't heard them approach. Cold fury filled the bride's face. Lissianna wasn't happy with her uncle, and she had no problem showing it.

“Come,” Etienne murmured, taking advantage of the distraction. He pulled Rachel away.

She followed in silence, her mind whirring. Etienne was wooing her to try to get her to do something. The thought kept flowing through her mind as he escorted her out of the reception hall. If there was one thing Rachel hated most in this world, it was being used.

She got into the car when Etienne unlocked the door. She did up her seat belt as he walked around the vehicle to get in, then sat in stony silence as he started the engine and began to drive.

They were headed to his house, of course, to discuss whatever it was he wanted her to do. Rachel knew this. She also knew that the conversation they would have upon reaching his home was going to be unpleasant, no doubt terribly painful. While she wasn't looking forward to it, Lucian Argeneau had made sure there was now no way to avoid it. That being the case, all Rachel could hope for was that she might escape the conversation with at least her pride. She doubted very much if her heart would survive.

 

Etienne cursed his uncle silently all the way home. The man had always been a hardass. The rest of the family had often questioned whether he even possessed a heart, but tonight had taken the cake. If Etienne stood any chance at all with Rachel anymore, he would be very surprised. Lucian had just made his life incredibly complicated.

Unfortunately, it was all his own fault, and Etienne knew it. If he had just broached the subject of Pudge with Rachel before the wedding, as he should have done, this wouldn't be a problem. But he hadn't and, now he not only had to try to convince her that claiming Pudge had kidnapped her was the smartest move, but he had to get past her anger to do it. And Rachel had a lot of anger at the moment. A lot. Tons. While he couldn't normally read her thoughts, high levels of passion apparently opened her to him like a book—and apparently not just sexual passion. Right at that moment, she was broadcasting her anger like an FM radio at top volume.

Etienne parked in his driveway and shut off the engine, then sat still for a moment while Rachel undid her seat belt. When he made no move to get out, she paused and waited with what might have seemed patience—if he weren't being blasted by her thoughts.

“I didn't sleep with you to convince you to do what we wanted,” he said finally, since that seemed to be the fear she broadcasted most strongly.

“Then why
did
you sleep with me?”

He wasn't fooled by her calm tone. She didn't believe him and was still furious. Etienne was silent as he sought an answer to her question. Why had he slept with her? That had to be one of the stupidest questions a woman could ask. Or perhaps it wasn't with a normal man. One of them might have answered, Because you were willing, or simply, why not? But Etienne had long outgrown the stage where he would sleep with anything that moved. Sadly, sex had turned out like food over the ages—thrilling and exciting at first with its variety, but then more of a bother than anything. Or so he had thought until Rachel. Then his appetite had been revived and he had wondered, what bother?

Just the memory of the heated moments between them was enough to arouse him. Hell, he was sporting wood now at just the thought. But how did he explain all that in a way she would believe? He glanced down at his lap, then to Rachel, and inspiration struck. Reaching out, Etienne caught her hand, drew it across the car, and placed it firmly over his suit pants. “Because you do this to me.”

Rachel snatched her hand away as if she'd been burned and scrambled out of the car.

“Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best argument,” Etienne muttered. The car door slammed. Obviously, for all his three-hundred-plus years, he hadn't yet lived long enough to understand women.

“Rachel!” Etienne slammed the car door and hurried up the sidewalk to his front door.

“Don't even talk to me,” she snarled.

Yep. She was pretty mad. Etienne caught up to her on his front porch and grabbed her arm to turn her toward him. “You didn't let me finish.”

“Finish?” she echoed with disbelief. “What is there to finish? I got it. I gave you a boner. But you men get erections at the drop of a hat. I've heard some of my male co-workers talking. ‘Close your eyes and they're all Marilyn Monroe, right?'” She slammed a fist into his front door. “Open this damned thing.”

Deciding it might be better to finish the conversation inside, Etienne pulled out his keys and quickly unlocked the door. She immediately shoved it open.

“Rachel,” he tried again as they went inside. “It isn't like that with me. It might have been at one time, but that was long ago. I—Where are you going?”

She started upstairs, not even bothering to answer him but breaking into a jog that had her on the upper landing in a heartbeat. Frustration welling up within him, Etienne hurried after her, chasing her along the hall to his bedroom.

“Look, there was a time when I would have slept with anything that moved,” he admitted as he followed her. “But I'd been celibate for at least thirty years before you came into my life. Sex just wasn't exciting anymore. You changed all that for me.”

“Glad I could be of service.”

Etienne winced. The woman had a razor for a tongue when she was angry. He liked it. “Look, I…What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I'm doing?” she asked with feigned sweetness. She began shoving her clothes back into the bag his mother had used to transport them.

“It looks like you're packing.”

“Got it in one. You're so clever. Care to throw out a couple of big words to impress me?”

Had he just thought he liked her sharp tongue? Etienne glared at her. “You aren't going anywhere. We have to resolve this. We also have to discuss Pudge.”

“Ah ha!” She turned on him with cold satisfaction. “I just
knew
that was what it was all about. Pudge! You
want me to lie and claim he kidnapped me.”

“It's the best way to deal with the matter,” he said solemnly.

Rachel snorted in derision. “You mean, it's the most expedient for you people. But he didn't kidnap me. He didn't even really try to kill me. I just got in the way.”

“He's dangerous, Rachel.”

“Oh, please. Your uncle just finished threatening me with extinction. He would terminate Pudge in a heartbeat.”

“Yes, he would,” Etienne agreed. “But my family prefers to use death as a last resort. And in this case it isn't necessary, for a simple lie would see Pudge alive and well but locked up and no longer a threat. Or would you prefer to see him dead?”

He felt a modicum of satisfaction at the guilt that crossed her face. He'd scored a point. Bravo for him.

“I can't lie, Etienne. I mean that literally. I'm a rotten liar. I kind of grimace and get this nervous giggle.”

“You could at least try. You hold the man's life in your hands. You can lie and see him alive, or you can refuse and force his termination.”

Rachel gaped. “Now I'm responsible for his life? Like it's my fault? Next you'll be blaming me for starting Armageddon.”

“Well, if you live long enough you just might be the cause of it,” he snapped.

“Oh!” She turned back to slam some more clothes
into her bag. “You're
so
charming. It's a wonder you
weren't
able to woo me into doing what you wanted.”

“I never asked you to ‘do what I wanted.'” Etienne ran a hand through his hair with frustration. “And this is exactly why. I didn't want to ruin what was happening between us.”

That caught her attention, and Rachel stopped packing. She even turned to stare at him. “What?”

“I like you, Rachel. And I want you. Constantly,” he added dryly. “I wasn't sleeping with you to get you to do what I wanted about Pudge. In fact, our…relationship is the reason I didn't push the Pudge issue. My family kept urging me to. Bastien even did it in front of you the day we were locked out in the garden, but I couldn't do it. I didn't
want
to. I kept putting it off. Unfortunately, I put it off long enough that Uncle Lucian caught wind of it, and now it
is
a serious issue.”

Rachel shifted on her feet, her mind in an uproar. She distinctly recalled Bastien's asking Etienne if he'd talked to her about…. He'd never finished the statement; Etienne had interrupted, assuring the man that he would. But he hadn't. Not that day or the ones that followed. Perhaps he was telling the truth. She wanted with all her heart to believe he cared about her, but her mind was in such turmoil she didn't know what to think. She needed time away from him. His nearness had the unfortunate side effect of confusing her.

Etienne added to her confusion by pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “I don't think I'll ever be able to resist
you, Rachel. You stir my blood like no other woman has managed to do in three hundred years. You make me hunger. You're beautiful.”

He drew her into his arms, and Rachel was helpless to resist. She would think in the morning, she promised herself as she kissed him back. Everything would be clearer in the morning.

 

Etienne was a beautiful man. Rachel had known that from the beginning, but lying there watching him sleep by the light spilling out of the bathroom, she took the time to look him over minutely.

Etienne had made love to her through most of the rest of the night. Rachel had fainted as usual, but with her thoughts troubled as they were, she hadn't slept long. She had never been able to sleep at such times. It was now ten in the morning and she was wide awake, her thoughts awhirl as she stared at her lover.

He claimed to like her and to be truly attracted to her. Rachel had no problem believing the former—she thought of herself as a likable sort. But attracted to her? Did he really find her beautiful and desirable? She sighed and rolled onto her back to stare at the shadows spilling across the ceiling. Rachel could look in the mirror and see that she looked better than ever thanks to the turning, but she didn't really feel attractive inside.

She'd been the tall girl during her school years, the gawky carrot top more prone to being teased than
flattered and asked out on dates. Her fiancé Steven had been her first real boyfriend, and that hadn't been until University. With him, she'd finally felt pretty and wanted…until she'd caught him in bed with her roommate.

She hadn't had much success with dating since. Some of that could no doubt be blamed on the hours she worked, but not all of it. No, Rachel wasn't confident in her attractiveness. The last few weeks had been like some sort of dream come true, having a handsome, sexy man like Etienne paying attention to her. But dreams were hard to believe in, and it was far too easy to believe he had been wooing her to get what he wanted.

Etienne sighed and shifted in his sleep, drawing her attention. Her gaze drifted over his naked body, pausing at the sheet twisted around his waist. The man was a distraction even now. She needed time away. Heck, maybe she needed therapy.

Grimacing at the thought of how that would go, Rachel eased out of bed and began to gather her clothes. She'd go walk through his garden or something. It would mean consuming more blood later, but she could do that easily enough now that she could use straws.

She would rather go home. It was her safe haven from the world, where she had always done her thinking. She also would have liked to at least call her family, so that they wouldn't be left worrying—but she
was reluctant to risk either just yet. Not until she'd resolved all this.

Rachel managed to collect her clothes and make it to the bathroom without waking Etienne. Once the door was closed, she relaxed a little and quickly dressed. She ran a brush through her hair, washed her face, and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

“Pudge kidnapped me,” she said experimentally. Her lips immediately twitched into something between a grimace and a grin. A nervous giggle slipped from her throat.

Rachel's shoulders slumped. She'd always been a rotten liar. It was inconvenient at times, but mostly made life simpler. If you didn't lie, you never got caught. Honesty was the best policy. Those were phrases she'd had drummed into her head repeatedly as a child. Rachel had always believed them. But now, faced with the problem of Pudge, she couldn't help thinking that in this instance a lie would serve everyone much better. And that included Pudge.

Turning away from the mirror, Rachel moved to the door and eased it open. Her gaze shifted immediately to the bed. Etienne was still lying in the same position as when she'd left. Smiling at how adorable he looked lying there with his hair all ruffled, his chest bare, and the sheets tangled around his waist, she turned off the light and eased into the room, then tiptoed to the door to the hall.

She felt like a thief sneaking out of the room and
creeping to the landing, but she continued to tiptoe all the way down the stairs. She had just reached the door to the kitchen when she heard the soft screech of protesting wood. Pausing in the kitchen doorway, she peered around the room. It was a moment before she noticed movement at the window, then she froze like a deer in headlights. The window had been pushed up, and someone was even now climbing in. They had one leg in and were maneuvering the rest of their body behind.

Heat prickled up the back of her neck, adrenaline pumped through her, and Rachel did what came instinctively—she ducked out of sight into the first available hiding spot, the hall closet. She was easing the door closed before she realized what she was even doing. It wasn't until she felt relatively safe in her hiding place that her brain seemed to engage, and she realized that she, Rachel Garrett, now a vampiress extraordinaire, was hiding from a common thief.

Rachel felt the fear run out of her like water from a glass. What on earth was she doing? She was a vampire. She could handle this cretin. Heck, she'd give him a scare he'd never forget. Teach him a lesson he'd never forget, either, she thought with amusement. Starting to ease the door back open, she only had it a few inches when the burglar straightened and she saw his face. Rachel paused again as recognition struck her. Here was the man from the morgue, the
khaki-clad maniac who had tried to hack off Etienne's head.
Pudge.

That was enough to make her ease the door closed again. This was no regular burglar; this was a man who knew Etienne and his family. He knew about vampires, and how to kill them. And that was no doubt what he was here to do, she realized. Panic immediately set in on her again, and Rachel spent a moment trying to think what to do. Her plans to slip out for a solitary walk were definitely out. She had to get upstairs and warn Etienne. And she had to do so before Pudge got to him.

Too late for that, she realized as Pudge moved past. She'd have to follow him and take him by surprise.

Rachel heard the creak as he started up the stairs, and she knew it was safe to come out of her hiding place. The stairs curved up to the right, so it was safe to leave the closet. When she stepped out into the hall, it somehow seemed darker than it had moments ago. The sun was still shining brightly, however, its rays coming through the windows made dust motes dance in the air. She would have to avoid it.

Pushing all thoughts away as inconsequential, she started to follow Pudge, then paused and peered back into the closet for a weapon. The best she could come up with was a mop and a broom. Rachel considered ransacking the kitchen, where she would at least be able to find a sharp knife, but she feared she didn't have time. Besides, she had seen enough of Pudge to
know that he was armed to the teeth. The man had been carrying a rifle, a holstered gun, a knife long enough to almost be a sword, and various other articles. She figured nothing short of a bazooka would even things out at this point.

Snatching the mop because it at least had a sturdy wooden handle, compared to the flimsier thin aluminum handle of the broom, Rachel hurried through the hall. She raced as quickly and quietly as she could up the stairs.

The upstairs hall was empty when she reached it, which was hardly reassuring. She wasn't sure if it meant the man knew exactly which room was Etienne's and had already entered, or if he was searching each room individually and was presently out of sight. He might come out behind her and take her by surprise.

Praying that he was in one of the other rooms and would stay there long enough for her to get to Etienne, Rachel screwed her courage to the sticking place and scampered up the hall on tiptoes. At the door to Etienne's room, she paused to glance back at the empty hall, then quickly opened the door. She was just in time to see Pudge raising a stake high over his head. Rachel did the only thing she could think to do at that point: she let loose the loudest, longest shriek she had ever managed in her life and charged forward.

Pudge paused, shocked eyes jerking around to her
and her mop, then just as quickly back to Etienne, who started awake crying, “What? What is it?”

Much to her horror, Pudge then plunged the stake down.

The sound Rachel released was full of fury, and came from a place she didn't even know existed within her. It sounded to her ears like a primal growl, almost a roar, as she swung her mop at the back of the man's head. Unfortunately, he saw and managed to duck.

Rachel had used enough force that she over-balanced. By the time she regained herself and swung back, Pudge was launching himself at her in a football tackle. His head hit her in the abdomen and knocked the breath out of her, and she stumbled backward onto the carpet, where the wind was knocked out of her again. They both slammed into the floor.