"I know," Etienne said soothingly. He'd never seen his mother so annoyed. She had been sweet and nice to Rachel, ignoring the wet-dream comment and acting as if she hadn't just walked in on an awkward moment. Presenting Rachel with a tote bag filled with clothes collected from her apartment, Marguerite had then suggested Rachel might be more comfortable in them than Etienne's cast-offs. Then she had asked Rachel to come below when she was ready.
Next, she had ushered Etienne out of the room, her silence along the hall and down the stairs warning him that she was more than a little peeved. Now, in the living room, he tried to defend himself. "I tried to convince her it wasn't a dream. I really did."
"Well, you apparently failed," Marguerite snapped. "The girl thinks she's having an erotic dream, for God's sake!"
"An erotic dream?" Bastien echoed. His tone was half-amused, half-horrified.
"Fascinating." Lucern--a carbon copy of Bastien, except taller--pulled a pen and pad out of his pocket and jotted something down.
Etienne glared at his older brothers, then took a deep calming breath. Turning back to his mother, he said, "She's really resisting the idea of being a vampire. I mean, really resisting, Mother. She's twisting her brain and contorting her thoughts in the most convoluted ways to avoid accepting it."
"Perhaps you haven't presented it properly."
That deep male voice drew Etienne's attention to the bar, and he raised an eyebrow in surprise at the couple standing there. The man had spoken, but Etienne's gaze found his sister first. Except for the fact that she was blond, Lissianna was an exact replica of their mother. She always looked beautiful, but now, as she crossed the room toward him with a drink, she positively glowed. Being engaged obviously agreed with her.
Etienne glanced at the man following her. Gregory Hewitt. Tall, dark-haired, and good-looking, Lissianna's fiancé smiled at him in greeting.
"I didn't realize you two were coming over," Etienne said. "I thought you were busy with wedding preparations."
"Never too busy for family," Lissianna murmured. She hugged him. "Besides, I had to meet your life mate."
Etienne slumped. His life mate was fighting him tooth and nail--when she wasn't doing completely outlandish things like insisting this was all a wet dream and jumping him.
"As I said," Gregory reiterated, slipping his arm around Lissianna. She released Etienne and stepped back. "Perhaps you simply haven't presented it in the right light."
"Of course he hasn't," Lissianna agreed, smiling. "Once she knows all the benefits, she'll take to it fine."
"I told her the benefits," Etienne insisted.
"Bet you didn't tell her all of them." Lissianna's grin somewhat soothed his irritation at her questioning his abilities.
"Bet I did," he countered.
"We shall see."
Lissianna shrugged and smiled, but the smile was aimed over his shoulder, making Etienne aware of someone else--Rachel, of course. He turned, his eyes widening as he took in her outfit. She had been wearing dress pants, a blouse, and a lab coat both times he'd seen her in the morgue. She had been na**d, wrapped in a sheet, or wearing one of his shirts here in his home. Now he found himself gaping at her in a pair of tight, faded jeans and a T-shirt that barely reached her midriff. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her face was makeup free. Altogether, she looked about eighteen. A very sexy eighteen. Etienne was wowed.
"Umm, these aren't... er..." Rachel shifted on her feet, tugging nervously on the bottom of her T-shirt in an effort to draw it down to hide her belly. "I don't suppose you brought any other clothes back from my apartment, did you?"
"I'm sorry. No, dear. Are they wrong?" Marguerite asked. Getting to her feet, she approached. "Aren't they yours? I got them out of your closet. They were the only casual clothes I could find."
"Yes. Yes, they're mine," Rachel said quickly. "But they're old. I mean, I haven't worn jeans since graduating University, and I've obviously outgrown them." She frowned down at herself and tugged on the top again. "I should have thrown them out, really, but I'm something of a packrat."
"No, you look wonderful." Marguerite took her hand and drew her to the couch. Once she was seated, the woman patted her hand and said, "From what Etienne has told us, you appear to be a little confused."
"I'm not the one confused," Rachel said, though she was no longer sure that was the case. This dream had taken a surreal twist. She wasn't sure what was happening. Dream? Nightmare? Feverish imaginings? Was it all just bad drugs?
"Ah. Well." Marguerite smiled widely. "Perhaps if you tell me the last thing you recall before waking, we could work from there."
"The last thing," Rachel pondered. The logic was comforting. Marguerite wasn't claiming to be a vampire or insisting Rachel was, either. Maybe this would all work itself out.
She ran her tongue over her upper teeth, relieved to find them perfectly normal. This all had to be the result of bad drugs. She rubbed absently at her chest where the ax had severed skin but left no scar. She was probably comatose right now and a bad mor**ine drip was giving her weird dreams. Not necessarily bad dreams. Those few heated moments in the bedroom hadn't been bad at all. In fact, the only bad part to her mind was that it had ended so abruptly--and without satisfaction.
"The last thing I remember..." she repeated, pushing other thoughts aside. "I was at work for the first time after being sick for a week."
"Uh-huh." Marguerite nodded encouragingly.
"Tony was off, and Beth was late." She glanced up and added, "Car trouble."