"Yes. Just a dream." His voice was warm and soothing by her ear.
Rachel relaxed a little at his words, but only a little. She remained in his arms as he carried her up the second set of stairs and along the hall. At last he set her in the bed she had so briefly left.
Opening her eyes, Rachel snatched at the blankets and tugged them up to her chin. Not that she needed to be defensive. He seemed to have no interest in attacking her and he was instead walking away toward a small fridge. He bent to open it and retrieved a bag of what was unmistakably blood.
Rachel's eyes narrowed suspiciously and she tensed when her host walked back to affix the blood bag to the IV stand. "What are you doing?" she asked. She tried to snatch her arm away when he took it, but he was much stronger than she.
"You need this." He slid the tube back into the IV in her arm with the skill of a nurse. "Your body is going through changes, and healing took a lot of blood. This will ease the cramps so you can sleep again."
Rachel wanted to argue, but the moment the blood slid down the clear tube and began to pour into her body, some of the aching she had suffered since awakening began to ease. So did the odd hankering she'd been experiencing. Apparently, this was what her body had yearned for.
"You will sleep now."
It sounded more like an order than a suggestion. Never having cared much for being ordered about, Rachel wanted to argue... but she was suddenly quite weary. Her exhaustion and lassitude were growing in proportion to the blood entering her. She felt much as she did after a big carbohydrate-rich holiday meal.
"This is a dream, remember?" her host said soothingly. "Just sleep. All will be well when you wake up."
"Sleep," Rachel muttered.
Yes, sleep would be good. And when she woke up for real, she would find herself in a hospital, or perhaps snoozing at her desk. Perhaps it was all a dream--the crispy critter, the ax-wielding madman, everything. It was such a reassuring thought that she closed her eyes and let her mind drift. Rachel did have one regret just before she gave in to sleep: If it was all a dream, then the handsome, vital man who had carried her upstairs was a dream too, and that was rather a shame.
Etienne watched Rachel's face relax into sleep. She was a beautiful woman--nearly as tall as him too, which he liked--but her life had obviously been a stressful one. There were vague tension lines around her eyes and mouth. Those would disappear once she'd had enough blood, but they were signs that her life had not been an easy one. He brushed a fiery red curl away from her cheek, smiling when irritation flickered on her face and she brushed his hand away like a pesky fly.
Yes, Rachel was an interesting woman. She showed signs of being prickly. He liked prickly, and he had always enjoyed challenges.
His smile faded as he considered Rachel's reaction. She would be resistant to the change at first. The woman obviously had all sorts of preconceived ideas about his people. Lumpy faces? Bloodsucking demons? He would have to clarify matters when next she awoke. Vampire wasn't a label he liked, but it was expedient, and one most people could at least understand. It would serve as a starting point in the conversation to come.
Stifling a yawn, Etienne glanced around his room. He would have liked to remain here, didn't want to leave her alone, but sleep was creeping over him. From her pallor, he estimated she needed another two or three bags of blood, and cramps would wake her again when this bag ran out. He didn't want her wandering around weak and shaky--she could fall and hurt herself.
After a hesitation, Etienne stretched out on the bed. He crossed his ankles and clasped his hands behind his head, then turned to glance at her. He would stay, catnap, and change the bags as needed. Her restless stirring when the bag ran out would wake him to the task.
Chapter Four
The room was dark and silent, but something awakened her. Rachel lay still for a moment, simply listening, collecting her thoughts. It wasn't completely silent. Outside, it was obviously windy. She could hear the soft rush, the battering of the building and the rustle of blown branches. Those were the only sounds, however; there was nothing to signal where she was--nothing except the memories crowding her.
Those memories were horrific, not to mention confusing. They came to her in order this time. Rachel distinctly recalled Fred and Dale arriving with the burn victim and telling her she'd earned the position she'd sought. Then, she recalled her confusion at the burn victim's state and the wild-eyed madman bursting into the room. Rachel had a very clear memory of his ax slamming into her. Yet now she was feeling no pain.
She wanted to believe her feeling of health was because she'd been given some excellent drugs, but she also recalled waking up earlier, meeting the handsome blond man with silver eyes. Etienne. He was the same man who had haunted her dreams while she'd been sick the week before the ax attack. She distinctly recalled waking up and him claiming to be a vampire, then showing her his extendible teeth. Which should only convince her that all her memories were nothing more than a dream. There were no such things as vampires, after all.
Rachel shifted cautiously where she lay, mentally prepared for a burst of pain to rip through her chest from the wound she'd sustained, but there was none. The hospital had obviously given her some pretty strong drugs. No doubt those drugs were leaving her confused as well as warding off the pain she should feel.
Amazing drugs, Rachel decided. She hadn't felt this strong or healthy in years. At least, not since she'd started working the night shift.
Moving carefully to avoid disrupting the IV she could feel trailing out of her arm, Rachel sat up and blinked several times, trying to bring the surrounding dark shapes into better focus. The room seemed large in the blackness, much larger than a hospital room should be.
Rachel was frowning over this when she realized that, from the shadows and shapes she could make out in the darkness, the room very much resembled the bedroom from her dream. A light had been on then, revealing a draped bed and blue decor. She recalled creeping down through an empty house to a basement where that silver-eyed man had risen from a coffin.
Definitely a dream, she decided.
Unable to see herself in the darkness, Rachel ran her hands over her upper body. She wore no clothes, and there was no sign of injury--just as it had been in her dream. Had she been hurt at all? What was dream and what was reality?
"Oh, jeez." Feeling a little panicked, Rachel thrust the blankets aside, hardly noticing as the IV tore from her arm. She paused long enough to feel around for the bedsheet, which she had been lying on top of rather than under. Pulling it from the bed, she fashioned it around herself toga style. Again? She was suffering a definite sense of déjà vu.
Don't even think like that, Rachel ordered herself firmly, suddenly desperate to find someone, anyone, to verify what had happened. She had a vague recollection of the setup of the room, but since she had already decided it was a dream she remembered, she couldn't go by it. Instead, she crept along the bed toward the wall it should back onto, arms extended.
Once she felt the wall, Rachel eased her way carefully along it in search of a door.
The first thing she found was a piece of furniture. Actually her knee found it--with a crack to her shins. Rachel paused to rub her aching leg before she felt the outline of the item was a chair.