Love Bites (10 page)

Rachel managed to control herself as he found her a plate and set out her food, but then she fell on the sandwich and chips with a ravenous hunger that was almost embarrassing. She didn't stop eating until she had consumed every last crumb and drunk every last drop of pop; then she sat back and frowned. Her stomach was full to bursting, yet her brain was still claiming she was hungry.

“You need blood,” Etienne told her gently, seeming to realize her craving. “Bastien said you'd need a lot of it for a while. Your body is still changing.”

“I thought I was done.”

“Mostly done,” he corrected. “There are still a couple of things left.”

“Like what?” she asked curiously. She wondered if he would mention orgasms.

“Your senses will sharpen. Your ability to smell is already improved, but it will grow keener. And your eyesight, of course. You'll be able to to see in the dark.”

“Your mother mentioned that,” Rachel admitted. It didn't sound too bad. It was certainly better than facial lumps and bumps.

“Come.” He stood. “We'll fix you up with an intravenous.”

“I hate needles,” Rachel complained, but she got reluctantly to her feet. “I mean I
really
hate them. I practically have a phobia.”

“You need more blood. You won't feel better until you get some,” Etienne lectured. He led the way up the hall.

Rachel stuck out her tongue at his back, but she knew he was right—she needed more blood. Her body was positively clamoring for it in a way that was almost painful. It was becoming obvious that her plans to leave were scotched unless she could bring herself to down bags of cold blood, but the very idea made her shudder.

“Can't I just bite someone?” she asked. For some reason, the idea held more appeal than a cold Bag
gie—although not much more. “Of course, it would have to be someone I don't like.”

Etienne glanced back, mouth open, but paused when he caught her eyeing his neck. “Hey! I created Blood Lust, remember? Your favorite video game.”

“Yes, but you're also the one who turned me in the first place,” she reminded him.

Apparently, Etienne didn't catch that she was teasing. Guilt crossed his face, and he looked apologetic. “I am sorry about that, but I couldn't let you die.”

It was simply no fun at all to tease someone so guilt-ridden. He obviously felt bad about the whole ordeal. Shrugging, Rachel moved past him and started up the stairs. “I'll get over it. I suppose this really is better than dead, right?”

Etienne's heavy sigh made Rachel pause and turn back. She didn't like him all grim and unhappy like this. She hadn't really meant to make him feel bad. Jollying him out of it seemed the best way to fix things, so she smiled brightly and said, “So…since you don't want me to bite you, maybe I can go find my boss and bite him. He's the one who put me on the night shift for three years.”

Etienne looked uncertain. “It's daylight.”

Rachel arched her eyebrows. “I thought you said we could go out in the daylight?”

“We can, but then you'll need more blood to repair the damage sunlight does to you. Besides, biting really
is
something we try to avoid at all costs.”

“You know,” Rachel said with mild disgust, “sometimes you seem lacking in a sense of humor.” She turned to continue up the stairs. “I was kidding about the biting bit. If I can't stomach biting a Baggie, I certainly wouldn't do much better with a live person. Sheesh.”

“Oh. I thought you might be joking, but I wasn't sure.”

Rachel laughed, not believing him for a minute. It didn't really matter, though; she had only been teasing him in an effort to distract herself from the idea of having to go through the intravenous deal again.

It had always amazed Rachel's family that she could work in the medical field yet still act like a baby when it came to shots and such. She'd grown better over the years. For instance, she no longer cried like a baby as it was done. Still, shots were a stressful ordeal for her. But she had too much pride to show fear to Etienne, so she suffered his hooking her up in silence and merely closed her eyes, hoping he would think her weary and not cowardly.

“Well…”

She opened her eyes and glanced at Etienne curiously. He had finished with the IV and now stood uncertainly by the bed, looking as if he weren't sure what to do next. Noting his gaze was fixed on her lips, she had the brief thought he was debating kissing her; then he gave himself a slight shake and moved away,
muttering, “I'll be in my office. Wake me if you need anything.”

Rachel grimaced at the idea of his sleeping in that small dark box meant for the dead, but merely murmured good night and watched him leave.

The moment she was alone, she closed her eyes to avoid looking at the intravenous. Her mind wandered, immediately beginning to pull out images and sensations from earlier. She recalled in detail those passionate moments here on the bed with Etienne, every little sensation, every indrawn breath, but when the point came where Marguerite entered the room, Rachel's mind rebelliously made up its own scenario. Instead of being interrupted, the door stayed closed and Rachel found what her hand had been seeking. In her mind, Etienne was well endowed, as he had claimed. He was also as hard and smooth as a time-tempered stone, and…

 

Etienne sighed and shifted in his coffin, his mind full of images: He was back in his room. Rachel lay atop him, her breasts revealed to his hungry gaze, her hand slipping inside his slacks to curl warm and firm around his erection. He groaned, jerking in her hold, his body responding with eagerness. When her hand slid the length of him, he had to stop her or embarrass himself.

Growling deep in his throat, he bucked and shifted, rolling her onto her back in the bed, then rolling over
her to take control of the situation. The abrupt shift startled Rachel into a gasp and made the top she wore gape open, revealing even more of her pale breasts. Taking advantage, Etienne dropped his head to lick the smooth, salty-sweet skin as he'd longed to do earlier.

Rachel bit her lip, biting back a moan and squirming, struggling to free the hands he held captured in his own. He knew she wanted to touch him back, wanted to caress him as well, but he didn't have the control at the moment to allow that—and he wanted her as excited and hungry for him as he was for her. Shifting, he took both of her hands in one of his, then reached down to remove his belt.

“I could help with that,” Rachel offered, arching restlessly beneath him. He fumbled one-handed with the chore, merely smiling and shaking his head. At last he succeeded in removing the item of clothing, then wrapped it around her trapped hands, slid the end through the buckle, and pulled it tight.

“What are you doing?” Rachel gasped as he tied the belt to his headboard. “I don't—”

He silenced her protest with a kiss.

 

Rachel arched on the bed, her mind a jumble of confusion. Somehow her fantasy was barreling out of control. Things had been fine in this dream until Etienne turned the tables on her and rolled her onto her back, but now the fantasy was taking a path she had never
expected—and she seemed helpless to stop it. Of course, Rachel wasn't sure she wanted to stop it, but the very fact that it was happening was bewildering. She was positive that she was alone in bed, dreaming, but she could feel Etienne against her in the darkness, could smell the musky cologne he wore, could taste the essence of him as his tongue thrust into her mouth. Bemused, she decided to just go with it. Allowing her mouth to widen, her own tongue slid out to join and tangle with his, and she tugged uselessly at the belt around her wrists in a vain effort to free herself to hold and touch him too.

She was gasping when his mouth left hers, panting with excitement but disappointed that he had broken the kiss…until his mouth traveled down her throat to the swell of her breast. Somehow the shirt she wore had come open, leaving her naked to his pleasure. Fortunately, his pleasure was her own. She cried out and arched back as he caressed and suckled first one breast, then the other. When he moved lower, his lips trailing down her belly, Rachel moaned and shuddered, very aware that his fingers were leading the way, trailing down over her hipbone, then down her outer leg and up her thigh.

Her legs seemed unsure what to do, and Rachel shifted restlessly beneath his caress. First her thighs pressed together, then they opened slightly, then they simply quivered and twitched beneath Etienne's fingers. Rachel wasn't much of a singer, but she sus
pected she hit a high C when his caress reached her center. She jerked, moaned, and twisted her head on the bed, especially when his mouth replaced his fingers.

She did very little thinking after that. The only cogent thought Rachel managed was that Etienne was damned good—but then, he'd had three hundred years of practice. Well, it showed. Rachel had never experienced anything like it. Etienne had said earlier that her senses weren't fully developed, but she was definitely experiencing something intense. Her pleasure was perhaps not twenty times what it had once been at its peak, but it was at least two- or threefold. It was almost scary. Almost.

 

The ringing of the phone woke Etienne. His eyes shot open, his mind and body immediately alert. Although his body appeared to have been already alert, if the erection he sported was anything to go by. Forcing himself to ignore the clamoring of his body, he pushed his coffin lid open and sat up. In the next moment, he crossed the room to snatch the phone.

“Hello?” he barked, unable to hide his annoyance.

Silence. Etienne listened for a moment, eyes narrowing as the dead air stretched, malevolent and angry. Then he guessed, “Pudge?”

A click as the line went dead was his answer. Etienne set the phone back with a troubled frown. The techie hadn't called since Etienne had told him in no
uncertain terms he wasn't going to be hired; then the killing attempts had started. Yet Etienne was sure that had just been Pudge. He didn't know why the fellow had called, but he suspected it wasn't good.

He turned back to survey his coffin with irritation. The idea of getting back in wasn't appealing. His dream had wound him up. He was now too restless to sleep—at least alone in a dark, confining coffin. It suddenly didn't seem the cozy, comforting spot where he could think and plan, it just seemed cold and dark. And lonely.

Sighing, Etienne left his office and headed upstairs. He would check on Rachel and change her blood bag, then perhaps work for a while. He didn't think he'd get back to sleep anytime soon.

His guest was sound asleep when he reached her. She was also scowling. It was an expression he had seen on her face several times while awake, but he had never expected to see it while she was sleeping. What did it mean? He moved to the side of the bed rather than to the refrigerator. The scowl was one of dissatisfaction, perhaps, for the bed was a tangled mess of sheets and blankets, half kicked aside, half twisted around her body. Rachel was obviously just as restless as he. Then he noticed that her hands rested above her head—in much the same position he had restrained them in his dream. The dream that had seemed so real.

Realization struck. Doubt immediately followed,
however, and Etienne decided to test his hypothesis. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his mind…and immediately retracted his thoughts when, instead of the blank wall he usually encountered, he glimpsed Rachel's thoughts. It seemed her mind, which was firmly closed to him when she was awake, was wide open when she slept. Which meant the dream or fantasy he'd experienced had probably been a shared moment. Either he had been pulled into Rachel's dreams, or she had been pulled into his.

It didn't really matter who had started the episode, Etienne supposed. The most important fact was that, despite everything, Rachel was still attracted to him. There was no mistaking her little moans or her response to him—at least in dreams—as anything like repulsion or disgust. That was good. He was certainly attracted to her. It gave Etienne hope. Perhaps he wouldn't have to spend eternity without a life mate. Perhaps things would work out. It would take some time to find out for sure, however, and to get that time he would have to convince Rachel to remain here with him.

He supposed he could do the normal mortal dating thing: take her out, wine and dine her, seduce her. But there were complications. Pudge was one. Then, there was that she had to learn to live her life differently. Controlling her body's responses was one of the more important lessons she needed to master.

Walking to the refrigerator, Etienne fetched fresh
blood, then moved to replace the nearly empty bag on the IV stand. Once that was accomplished, he peered down at Rachel again, finding himself reaching out to brush a tress of red hair away from her face and smiling when she sighed in her sleep and turned into his touch. He would find a way to make her stay with him. He wanted to protect her, though she didn't seem the kind who would take well to coddling.

After straightening the blankets and tugging them up to cover her, he quietly left the room. He had to marshal his thoughts and come up with a convincing argument to make her stay for a couple of weeks. And he had to work on convincing her to fall in with the family's suggestion she claim Pudge had kidnapped her. Pudge was still very much a threat, and Rachel still had a lot to learn.

It was already dark out when Rachel woke up. She was used to that however, though usually only in late fall and winter when night came early. One of the things she had always hated about working nights was in the winter, coming home at seven in the morning and having to sleep away the few daylight hours available. Oddly enough, this time, sleeping so long didn't seem to bother her. She woke up refreshed and eager to start her day—or evening, as was the case.

With little choice when it came to wardrobe, Rachel re-donned the tight jeans and T-shirt Marguerite had retrieved for her, then raided Etienne's wardrobe for a long-sleeved dress shirt. Drawing it on over her, she tied the loose ends of the open shirt at her waist, then spent a moment in the bathroom, brushing her teeth
and hair. She considered slapping on some of the face powder and lipstick Marguerite had also been thoughtful enough to bring, but in truth she didn't need it. Her skin glowed with good health and her lips were redder than usual. It appeared there were other benefits to being a vampire—she would save a fortune on cosmetics.

Grinning, Rachel left the bedroom and jogged downstairs. Wandering to the kitchen, she didn't find Etienne there so she continued on down to the basement. The office was dim, with just the glow of screen savers on the monitors. She could see that the room was empty, though, except for the closed coffin. Etienne obviously hadn't woken up yet.

Rachel's gaze slid to the desk and the phone there. It was the only one she'd seen in the house, and she wanted to make a quick call to her family, just to let them know she was all right. She didn't like the idea of them worrying about her.

She took a step toward the phone, then caught herself. Making the phone call would wake Etienne, and if it did…Well, she wasn't sure what his reaction would be. He should awake soon, anyway. She could ask him then to use the phone. She backed silently out of the room and returned upstairs.

Debating what to do next, Rachel decided to explore. She wandered aimlessly from room to room on the ground floor, appreciating the eclectic modern style but not stopping until she came to the library.
She'd always been a bookworm. Pausing to survey the shelves and the books available, one caught her interest. She settled in one of the overstuffed chairs, tucked her feet up under her, and began to read. That was how Etienne found her.

“I thought you were still sleeping,” Rachel said as she closed her book and stood to replace it on its shelf.

“No. I went to get you some more clothes. I thought you might like a change.”

“Oh. That was kind of you.” She looked at the discomfort on his face, then the bag he carried, then back. “How exactly is it that you and your mother are getting into my apartment? Can vampires manipulate locks with their minds or something?”

Etienne grinned. “No. We've been using your keys. They were in your purse.”

“Ah,” Rachel murmured. “My purse is here. That's good to know.” She would need it when she decided she was ready to leave.

“I put it up in your room before I went out this afternoon.”

“You mean your room,” Rachel corrected Etienne, then tilted her head inquiringly. “Which reminds me, am I going to have to sleep in a coffin after the change is finished?”

“No.” He shook his head. “We don't really need them anymore. Homes in the old days were drafty, and it was hard to keep out light. Then too, there were
servants and such to be concerned with. Nowadays, a good set of blackout blinds, a lock, and an alarm system are enough to do the trick.”

“Oh, good.” Rachel moved to his side and took the bag he'd packed for her. “I guess I'll go change my top at least. That way you can have yours back.”

“Fine.” He waited until she was in the hall before he asked, “Rachel?”

She turned back. “Yes?”

“Come back when you're ready. We need to talk.”

Rachel was silent for a moment, then she nodded and walked upstairs. The serious expression on his face made her nervous. What did he want to discuss? Rachel suspected it was something she wasn't going to like. Perhaps there were more drawbacks to this whole business that hadn't yet been mentioned.

Deciding it wasn't something she was likely to guess at—and that even if she did, she wouldn't know if she was right until they talked—Rachel hurried to her room and set the bag on the bed. Sorting through what he'd brought back, she found an array of her rather limited wardrobe. Dress slacks and blouses made up the majority of it, all work clothes. With a practically nonexistent social life, she hadn't needed much else besides a robe and fluffy slippers.

Rachel chose one of the tops and changed into it, but she didn't bother to change out of the jeans. They had stretched with wear and, while still tight, were becoming comfortable again. Rachel supposed they
hadn't been all that tight to begin with, and had simply seemed so because she had become used to loose dress pants over the years. After a quick check of herself in the bathroom mirror, she took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and headed downstairs.

Rachel tried to mentally prepare herself for whatever unpleasantness Etienne might wish to talk about, but since she wasn't sure what it was, she couldn't really do much.

 

Etienne paced the library, his mind racing, trying to line up his arguments. He figured that once he convinced Rachel to stay, he would have the time necessary to work on the Pudge matter. Despite her protest, he didn't think it should be too difficult to convince her to claim the man had kidnapped her—it was in her own best interest too.

Etienne decided it would be best to start by sympathizing with her. Rachel would be concerned about her job and the possibility of losing it. She would be worried about her family, her friends, and their fears and worry over her. She might even have a boyfriend out there, anxious about her well-being.

The thought caught Etienne by surprise. Until that moment, he hadn't even considered that there might be a rival for her affections. It didn't make him very happy to consider it now, but it was definitely something he needed to know.

After explaining that he understood her concerns,
Etienne would then point out that, while these were all valid concerns, the main concern was Rachel's health and well-being—as well as that of his people. He would point out that her immediate return to work and home might threaten her welfare. First, there was Pudge. The man would know she was one of them now if she returned healthy, and that would make her a possible target. Then there was her inexperience and lack of control. Should her teeth pop out, or her hunger overcome her while at work, her change would be revealed, threatening both her and his family. Worse, unable to control minds yet, Rachel wouldn't even have a chance to repair the damage she would cause. And then there was the blood issue. Not being able to feed herself was a major problem.

“Here I am.”

Etienne turned from the window and looked at Rachel. She had kept on the jeans, but had changed her top to a green blouse that brought out the color of her eyes. She looked gorgeous. Breathtaking. Every argument Etienne had lined up in his head now marched gaily out of it, leaving him rather lost.

“You wanted to talk?” Rachel prompted, moving farther into the room as he merely stood staring at her.

“Yes. Talk,” Etienne agreed, but that was as much as he could manage. He felt like someone had pole-axed him.

Why? It wasn't like it was the first time he'd seen the woman. He'd been aware of her beauty from the
first. Perhaps the attraction was from the uncertainty on her face and the way her eyes held mild anxiety. Or the way she caught her lower lip with her teeth to worry it. Then again, it might be the fact that, instead of the covered T-shirt, she was now wearing a blouse with the top two or three buttons undone. That exposed cleavage he had licked in his dreams—or their shared dream.

“Didn't you want to talk?”

Etienne gave himself a mental shake. “Yes. Yes, I…Look, I know you're probably upset not to be able to contact your family and friends and boyfr—Do you have a boyfriend?” he interrupted himself.

“Not at the moment,” Rachel said.

“Oh, good.” He grinned.

Her eyebrows rose. “Why is that good?”

“Why?” Etienne was stumped for a moment, then settled for, “Well, it's one less worry, right?”

She nodded slowly, looking perplexed.

“Well, anyway.” He cleared his throat. “I know you're upset about this, but—”

“But I have to learn to feed before I can leave here,” she interrupted.

“You do?” he asked with surprise. Then he corrected, “I mean, you realize that?”

“Of course. It wouldn't do for my teeth to pop out at work, or for me to take a bite out of a family member, coworker, or our priest.”

“No. No, that wouldn't be good,” he agreed, grin
ning with relief. She was being very sensible.

“So we should probably get down to the business of teaching me to feed.”

“Yes.” He nodded but just stood there, staring at her until she arched her eyebrows.

“Where should we do it? The kitchen?” she asked.

“Yes, of course.” Etienne forced himself to move forward, but his mind was racing. She seemed determined to conquer this problem, which was good, but he'd rather she didn't resolve it too quickly. He wanted to keep her in his home for a while.

There were ways to delay her managing to ingest blood, but it meant he'd have to put in a call to Bastien. “Why don't you sit down and relax a while?” he suggested, pausing at the door. “We have to wait on an order of blood to be delivered anyway.”

“I thought you had lots,” she said with surprise.

“No,” Etienne lied. “We used the last of my supply last night. I had to change your bag several times.”

“Oh.” Rachel sighed. “Okay. I'll read a while.”

Smiling, Etienne left her to it and hurried out of the room.

 

“Oh, God!” Rachel spat the blood back into the mug and pushed it away with disgust. “How do you drink this stuff? It's disgusting! Gross! It smells like skunk! Are you sure it hasn't gone bad?”

Etienne tried not to look guilty. The blood hadn't
gone
bad. It was bad blood. It was basically reject
blood—a combination of the thick clotty blood of cigarette smokers, the skunky corpuscles of pot smokers, and a trace of the blood of patients on Valium. It was nourishing enough and wouldn't really hurt her, but it was vile to consume and had the unpleasant side effects of wooziness and nausea.

Not knowing what he was giving her, Rachel was of course putting her physical response down to a psychological aversion to the idea of drinking blood. Etienne didn't correct her misconception. He was also insisting she be able to consume it from a glass rather than a bag, telling her she had to be prepared for all occasions before she would be ready to leave and rejoin the world. During the last two days, since the reject blood had been delivered, Rachel had tried three times a day to consume the bad mix, only to spit it back up. After each attempt, they either played his latest game or talked, or simply sat reading together in the library.

Other than the unpleasant attempts with the blood, it had been a nice couple of days. Unfortunately, to keep her from being suspicious, Etienne had been forced to drink the bad blood too. He wasn't sure how he had managed without gagging.

“Well, I suppose that's enough for today,” he said empathetically. “You gave it a good go. Maybe tomorrow—”

“Tomorrow is going to be just like today,” Rachel predicted gloomily. “I'll never get used to this stuff.”

Etienne was searching his mind for some way to cheer and encourage her—and maybe even distract her so that he could avoid finishing the mug he had poured for himself—when the doorbell rang.

He wasn't surprised to find his mother on the doorstep. He
was
surprised when the first words out of her mouth weren't a greeting.

“Where is Rachel?” she asked.

“Right here.”

Etienne glanced over his shoulder to see Rachel approaching. “Is something wrong?” she asked, looking anxious.

“No, no. I just thought you might be getting a little housebound and would want to get out,” Marguerite said lightly. She ran her eyes over the outfit Rachel wore. “That will do, dear. Would you like to come play?”

“I don't think—” Etienne began.

Rachel stepped to his side and interrupted. “Where exactly?” she asked.

“To Lissianna's wedding shower, dear. Our side of the family only. It will give you the chance to meet other young women like yourself.”

Etienne felt his hopes for the evening dissolve into a pang of loneliness.

 

“What's this?” Rachel asked with suspicion. Lissianna's friend Mirabeau held out a plate containing what looked very like a slice of cake.

“German seven-layer chocolate cake, dear,” Marguerite answered.

“
Real
cake?” Rachel asked. She accepted the plate and murmured a thank-you to Mirabeau.

“Of course.” Etienne's mother chuckled. “What were you expecting?”

“I don't know,” Rachel admitted with a wry twist of her lips. “Black Forest blood cake?”

Marguerite and the women around her burst into gales of laughter. “Isn't she adorable?” Etienne's mother asked when it died down. Rachel blushed, for there was general agreement voiced.

She'd had a surprisingly good time at the shower so far. Marguerite had taken her to a special salon to purchase a gift for Lissianna, insisting on paying for it herself when Rachel realized that she hadn't brought her purse. Actually, despite Etienne's claim that he'd put it up in the room she was using, she had yet to see it. But then Rachel hadn't really looked; she hadn't needed it for anything since being turned. She had decided she would have to look around when she returned to the house, because she wanted to repay Marguerite right away. The woman had been incredibly sweet, and Rachel didn't want to take advantage of her kindness.