a serious geriatric.
"Do not fret," Marguerite said. This time her voice was soft, whisper soft. Almost as if she hadn't spoken at all but breathed the words. Or merely thought them. "Ease yourself. Things will be less distressing after you rest."
"Yes." The word slipped from Rachel's mouth of its own accord. Not that Rachel much cared. The only thought in her mind was that she was weary and needed rest.
"Come," Marguerite said, getting to her feet. Rachel did as she was told.
"Brilliant!" Bastien grinned and slapped Etienne on the back as Etienne shut the program down. "This one will be an even bigger hit than the first." Lucern and Greg nodded.
"That good is it?"
All four men turned to the door in surprise at the sound of Lissianna's voice. Greg smiled at the sight of her and moved to her side, his arm slipping around her in welcome. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"All done explaining the delights of vampire sex to Rachel?"
"Hmm." She smiled and kissed him back, then turned to her brother. "She's enthralled, Etienne. We may have increased your chances."
"Ha ha." Etienne turned off the computer and stood. "Where is Mother?"
"She took Rachel upstairs to put her to bed."
Etienne laughed. "Tucking her in like a child?"
"She is a child," Lucern commented, leading the way out of Etienne's basement. "She's barely twenty-five."
"Nearly thirty," Etienne corrected.
"Still a child," Lucern said with a shrug.
"Everyone's a child to you, Lucern," Lissianna joked.
"Not everyone. Just everyone under four hundred."
"You mean everyone but you, Mother, Bastien, and maybe a hundred of the more ancient vamps in the world," Etienne said with disgust. At three hundred and twelve he was growing tired of being called a child. He even sometimes yearned to be human, to have a normal lifespan and family. But that feeling always passed.
"Well, what are we going to do about your friend Pokey?" Greg asked as they returned to the living room.
"Pudge," Etienne corrected.
"Your mother said his name was Pokey."
"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