"She seems to have a mental block when it comes to his name."
"I've been thinking about it," Bastien spoke up. Everyone listened. When Lucern had chosen to pursue writing and other creative pursuits upon their father's death, rather than run the family businesses, it was Bastien who had taken on the mantle. They all respected him for it, and for the effort he went to on everyone's behalf. "As we discussed, since the hospital officials and police already think Pudge carried Rachel away with him, it would be expedient if we could persuade her to claim such. They would arrest him and put him away for kidnapping. Etienne must convince her to do this."
"A sound idea," Lucern commented. Arching an eyebrow at Etienne he asked, "Do you think you can?"
"I can try," Etienne decided. Then he smiled. "I'll have plenty of time to convince her while she's here."
"If she agrees to stay," Lissianna pointed out.
"She will."
"She isn't a stray dog, Etienne," Marguerite said dryly, entering the room. "You can't just keep her as you like."
"No, she isn't a stray dog," he agreed. "But she is one of us now."
"So?" Lissianna said. "Her being one of us doesn't mean you can keep her chained up. She'll most likely want to return to her own life."
"But she'll need to feed," he protested.
"Yes, she will," Bastien agreed. "And certainly we will make our blood bank open to her, if she needs it."
Etienne's head snapped in his brother's direction. "If she needs it? Of course she'll need it."
"Not necessarily," Greg commented. "She works in a hospital. She can probably take care of herself."
Etienne said nothing but felt his mouth tighten with displeasure. He didn't at all like the idea of losing her, and briefly struggled with the reasons behind it. He was thoroughly confused by his passion, for he hardly knew the woman and shouldn't feel so strongly about this--but he did. He'd like to think it had nothing to do with his body's passionate response to her when she had kissed him, or the pleasure he had felt when she'd crawled on top of him.
His gaze drifted to the door and the stairs visible beyond as his family continued to talk. Rachel would be asleep in his bed at that moment; his mother would have seen to that. It was for the best. Her body had suffered a good deal of trauma of late--a mortal wound, the turning, healing. And mentally she had been through the ringer as well. It couldn't be an easy thing to accept that your whole life had changed so abruptly.
Etienne frowned. His own life had taken a sudden unexpected turn along with hers, and he was feeling rather traumatized himself. Suddenly, he was faced with the care and concern of another being. The closest he'd felt to this was the protective nature of an older brother when Lissianna had been a child, but that hadn't been nearly as strong. He felt a connection to the woman sleeping in his bed, one he couldn't define or really understand. Perhaps it was because he had turned her, and that had created a bond he hadn't been warned of. Regardless, he felt his life was now interlaced with hers on many levels.
On the other hand, perhaps he simply needed to look into more of a social life. It couldn't be good for him to have gone celibate for so long.
"How long has it been?"
"Two or three decades," Etienne answered before he could catch himself. Then he glared. "It's rude to read other people's thoughts, Mother."
She merely smiled sweetly at him. Marguerite had a bond with each of her children, perhaps from birth. She had always been able to read their minds and such--a talent not reciprocal to her children. Each of them could read the thoughts of humans--or usually they could, Etienne corrected himself, recalling that Rachel's mind seemed sealed against him. They could also read each other's thoughts when they weren't guarded, which they usually were. But none of them could read Marguerite's.
"It's getting late and I have things to do," the woman announced, getting to her feet. "Besides, we should leave Etienne to consider how to convince Rachel to go along with the plan. We can meet to discuss this matter further tomorrow night."
Much to Etienne's relief, everyone else concurred. He saw them out, closed and locked the door, then made his way upstairs to his room, unable to prevent himself.
His houseguest slept with the innocence of a babe. As she lay there curled up under his blankets in his bed, there was absolutely nothing about her to suggest the mischievous, even lusty woman who hid beneath. Etienne smiled slightly at his recollection. Rachel was a firecracker, as her red hair suggested, and Etienne was very much enjoying the show. He could hardly wait for sunset to come and a new night to begin.
Chapter Seven
The glowing red numbers of the digital clock on the bedside table read 12:06. Still deep night. She hadn't slept very long this time. Despite her dislike of the night shift, being on it for so long had affected her sleeping patterns, and Rachel knew right away she wasn't going to get back to sleep. Normally she'd be well into her work shift by this hour... and wishing she worked during the day.
Sitting up, she slid her feet to the floor and reached for the clothes lying across the foot of the bed. She had a vague recollection of Marguerite promising to collect more for her, and distinctly recalled murmuring something of an agreement to that, but she couldn't imagine why she'd agreed. She had no intention of staying here another day. She was going home.
While she had no idea what life held in store now, Bastien's explanations the night before had convinced her life had definitely changed.
Funny, while she was willing to admit that she had changed, she didn't feel any different. She still loved her family, and her goals and ambitions were the same. She wasn't really sure how she felt about being a vampire, but suspected she was going to have trouble. It was one thing to fantasize about never aging and living forever--though from what they had said, it wasn't necessarily forever-forever--but it was quite another thing to be faced with it.
Rachel had spent the night dreaming the world was moving around her at an accelerated pace. In her dream, faceless people had been milling about. They were born, grew up, and aged while she stood still, the Argeneaus at her back, none of them ever changing; watching those around them crumble into dust. And there were always others being born to take their places and die as well.
Pushing away the bleak dream and the concerns it brought to light, Rachel finished dressing. She left the room to find that, as it had been the first time she'd woken, the house was silent and still. Much to her relief, a light had been left on in the hallway though, making it easy to navigate the stairs. There was no one on the ground floor when she reached it--apparently Etienne's family had gone home. Working on instinct, she walked to the kitchen, not surprised to see the line of light beneath the door to the basement.