Predatory (Immortal Guardians #3.5)(68)

“Okay.”

“May I have your phone number so I may call you tomorrow to obtain your address?” He didn’t wish to frighten her by admitting he already knew it.

She recited it quickly. “Be careful,” she added as he bowed and backed away.

Warmth filled him. “Feel better,” he replied, earning another smile.

It took Chris longer than anticipated to trace the call, which came from way out in the boonies. Étienne violated just about every traffic law to get the two of them there as quickly as possible. When the car flew over a hill and Richart spied the battlefield ahead, he teleported himself the remaining distance and drew his swords.

Gaping, he took in what must be three dozen shriveling-up vampire corpses scattered across a blood-soaked field. “Merde!”

The threat, it would seem, had been annihilated. All the vampires had been taken out by . . .

His gaze strayed to a battered-all-to-hell black Prius upon which sat a small female figure, nearly hidden behind the irate, eight-hundred-plus-year-old British immortal who stood protectively in front of her, eyes blazing amber fire.

“Really?” Marcus bellowed. “You show up now?”

“The call didn’t come from your phone,” Richart explained. “So Chris didn’t know you were the one who needed help or where to send us until the GPS identified your location.”

“I dialed the number,” the woman murmured, voice pained, “but the vampires attacked before I could say anything.”

Marcus nodded, the eyes he trained on Richart still furious. “It took this long for him to track our location? I thought that shit worked faster than that.”

“No, it took this long for us to get here. You are way out in the sticks, you know.” Richart eyed the two of them curiously.

Marcus continued to stand protectively in front of the woman, one hand tucked behind him, resting on her legs.

Interesting.

Marcus’s scowl deepened. “Why didn’t you just—”

“I’m not as powerful as Seth. I can only teleport to places I’m familiar with, and I’m new to the area.”

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.