The hem of Richart’s long coat fluttered as his brother’s car skidded to a halt inches away.
The driver’s door flew open and Étienne leaped out, weapons at the ready. “Merde! How many were there?” he asked with astonishment.
Richart turned in a circle, taking in the rapidly decomposing remains of the vampires the duo had defeated. “Thirty-four by my count.”
Étienne gaped at Marcus. “And you took them all out by yourself?”
Marcus shook his head. “We took them all out.”
As one, Richart and his brother shifted so they could better see the injured woman, who seemed to want to lose herself behind Marcus.
“Two defeated thirty-four?” Richart said with a shake of his head. It was an unheard of feat. Richart would have thought only Seth—the eldest and most powerful immortal and leader of the Immortal Guardians—would have been capable of such. “Incredible.”
Étienne nodded, his gaze pinned to the woman.
Small, attractive, and blood-splattered, she boasted red hair that must have been dyed. All immortals had black hair.
Well, all but a couple who had brown hair.
“I didn’t know Seth had called in another immortal,” Étienne said, drawing the same conclusion Richart had. “Pleasure to meet you. I am Étienne d’Alençon, and this is my brother Richart.”
Was that jealousy Richart saw flare in Marcus’s eyes?
“Ami isn’t an immortal. She’s my Second.”
Richart felt his jaw drop. “She’s human?” he asked incredulously.
How had one immortal and one human stood against so many vampires?
Once again, he took in the multitude of corpses littering the field.
Vampires had not even attacked in these numbers when Bastien, an immortal who had thought himself a vampire for two centuries, had raised an army and waged war with the Immortal Guardians a couple of years ago.
What the hell was going on?
Chapter Two
Jenna was beset by nerves all day as she anticipated her date with Richart.
It hadn’t taken her long to tidy the apartment. Once done, she rearranged the kitchen cabinets and drawers, placing the nicest of her mismatched dishes and glasses in the front and on top.
She couldn’t remember a time when money hadn’t been tight. Her parents had kicked her out when she had turned up pregnant at sixteen. Her boyfriend’s parents had declared their child-rearing days over and done little more than give Jenna and Bobby, John’s father, first and last month’s rent on their first apartment. The two had married and worked their asses off, but—unable to afford health insurance—had accrued thousands of dollars in debt thanks to the medical bills pregnancy and giving birth had generated. Debt they had still been struggling to pay off when Bobby had been killed in a car accident three years later.
So nice dishes and pretty glasses had been beyond her budget.
Hell, the only furniture she had owned for years—other than baby furniture—had been throwaway pieces other tenants had left out by the Dumpster and an inflatable mattress.
But eventually, she had paid off the debt and managed to put away a little extra here and there until she had acquired enough to furnish the apartment with something that wouldn’t embarrass John when he invited friends over.
Or her. Richart had said he wouldn’t pursue anything amorous tonight, but she was nevertheless glad she had an actual bed in case something developed between them later.
Butterflies flocked to her stomach. She hadn’t had a date in . . .
Hmm. She drew a blank on that one.
Debbie had set her up on a blind date a couple of years ago that had gone rather well, Jenna thought, until she had mentioned having a son who planned to go to medical school. Her date had apparently mentally jumped ahead to marrying her and having to shell out a couple hundred thousand dollars in educational fees for a son who wasn’t his and had run, not walked, in the opposite direction.
Dating wasn’t easy for single moms.
The phone rang.
Jenna jumped. Shaking her head at herself, she answered. “Hello?”
“Hello.”
Her heart began to pound at the sound of Richart’s deep, silky voice. “Hi.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Much better, thank you.” Well . . . a little better, anyway. Though her stomach remained unsettled, she felt somewhat confident that she would be able to eat whatever meal he prepared without projectile vomiting it on him afterward.
“I’m glad to hear it. I thought I would run some dinner ideas by you and see what you think would be the most gentle on your stomach.”
So thoughtful. “Okay. What did you have in mind?”
Richart began to list entrées he could prepare for her. Clearly the man could cook.
Jenna didn’t know how half of the dishes he mentioned were prepared or if she even had the pots and pans needed to do it, so she went with the safest option. “How about the light salad and fettuccine Alfredo?”
“As you wish,” he responded cheerfully. “I shall see you tonight.”
When Jenna opened her door shortly after sunset, Richart smiled and decided that he loved yoga pants and tank tops. The soft gray pants hugged full hips and slender thighs before falling in straight lines to a pair of sneakers. A white tank top clung to a narrow ribcage, minuscule waist, and br**sts he thought would fit perfectly in the palms of his hands, which tightened around the handles of the shopping bags he carried.
“I took you at your word and stayed in my comfy clothes,” she said with a hesitant smile, stepping back and motioning for him to enter.
“I like your comfy clothes,” he professed, inhaling her sweet scent as he strode past into the small living room. Jenna plus a hint of the chocolate-raspberry soap she used. A delectable combination.
She had even worn her hair down. At work she usually pulled it back with clasps or ties or put it up in a ponytail. Tonight it fell freely in shining waves as red as the sky at sunset, tumbling across her shoulders and tempting him to comb his fingers through it.
No touching, he admonished himself. At least, no touching that might lead to more touching. She’s ill and you’re immortal and haven’t told her. Nor do you plan to tell her. So, what the hell are you actually doing here?
Giving in to weakness.
He hadn’t felt this drawn to a woman since before his transformation. She made him forget the dark violence that was such a large part of his existence and made everything somehow less tedious, so he actually looked forward to rising each day, eager to see her again.