She rubbed and circled and pinched her clit, breath coming quick, as her eyes met his. Her hand slid lower. Arching against her palm, she thrust two fingers inside her warm, wet sheath.

His hand tightened on his cock.

“This is where I want you,” Krysta whispered, withdrawing her fingers, then thrusting them inside again, imagining it was him.

Etienne’s eyes flashed an even brighter amber.

“Only you,” she murmured, need rising. “So long and hard and thick.”

Muttering something in French, he blurred.

Krysta heard the shower door open, became weightless, then found herself in bed on her back in seconds. Etienne loomed over her, no longer soapy. Muscles bunching, he settled himself between her thighs, then thrust inside her.

Pure pleasure.

Krysta cried out as he buried himself deep, then withdrew and thrust again. And again. And again. Reaching down, she grabbed his ass and urged him on, arching up against him, moaning with every breath.

He cupped the breast she had neglected in one large hand, squeezing and caressing and doing all of the things she had been imagining when she had touched herself.

“I need you,” he growled.

I need you, too, she thought, so breathless she couldn’t speak.

Fire burned through her. She arched against him. Over and over. So good.

His lips teased the sensitive skin of her neck.

Do it, she urged him.

He reached down between their bodies, sought the source of her pleasure.

An orgasm ripped through her, wringing a cry from her lips as her muscles tightened and her body clenched around his cock.

Pain followed as his fangs pierced her neck.

Krysta’s hands clenched, her nails digging into his flesh.

I’m sorry, he thought.

She forced herself to loosen her hold and tried to relax into it. It’s okay.

He continued to move inside her with slow thrusts. His fingers went to work once more, stroking her clit and sending sparks of renewed pleasure dancing through her.

Her breath caught.

Yeah. That helped.

He thrust harder, squeezed her breast.

That helped a lot.

She felt him smile against her.

The pain continued. But he fed the pleasure, building it until she was once more thrusting and straining against him.

Another orgasm swept through her.

Cold began to seep in. As did weariness.

As darkness closed in, she thought she heard him say, I love you.

Krysta woke to the feeling of being watched. Frowning, she opened her eyes, then jumped when she found Etienne lying inches away, staring at her intently.

“Don’t do that!” she said, heart racing. “You startled me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It took you longer to regain consciousness than I expected and I was worried.”

“Oh.”

She lay there for a moment, taking stock of things. “I don’t feel any different.”

Smiling, he brushed her hair, still damp from their shower, back from her face. “You will.”

He wasn’t kidding. Within hours she felt like she had a really bad case of the flu. Nausea. Vomiting. (Etienne was a little miffed when she wouldn’t let him hold her hair for her, but she did not want him to watch her puke. Gross.) Fever. The worst headache she had ever had in her life.

For someone who hadn’t been sick himself in over two centuries, Etienne was surprisingly helpful. He brought her hand-squeezed orange juice mixed with club soda to settle her stomach. Crackers and salty pita chips, too. He kept her supplied with ice packs for her head and a wide selection of DVDs to keep her entertained while the virus raged through her.

He told her stories of his youth. Stories of his immortality.

He even admitted that he and his twin had once wagered over which one of them could go the longest without sex.

“No sex at all?” she asked, fever making it feel like flames were pouring from her eyes.

He nodded. “No sex. No pleasuring oneself. Nothing but cold showers. It was the longest thirty-two years of my life.”

“Thirty-two years!”

He nodded, his smile wry.

“Who won?”

“Neither. It was a draw. Lisette found out why we had been so pissy, as she put it, and told us to cut the crap and get laid or she’d tell Seth it was distracting us when we hunted.”

She smiled. “What would Seth have done?”

He laughed. “Honestly, I have no idea.”

The room began to spin. Her stomach turned over.

She closed her eyes and hoped it would calm. The whole vomiting thing was getting old.

“Krysta.”

Had Etienne just said her name? She tried to pry her eyelids open, but couldn’t.

Krysta, darling, please wake up.

Wake up? She wasn’t asleep. She had just closed her eyes for a second.

Cold needles pricked her skin. Pain pierced her. Everywhere.

Screaming, Krysta finally managed to open her eyes and found herself in a bathtub full of ice and water with Etienne at her back.

Etienne ignored the cold stinging his skin and locked his arms around Krysta, holding her tight as she fought to get out of the tub.

Melanie and David emptied more bags of ice into the water.

Tears threatened as Etienne subdued Krysta. Tears of relief. He had thought he had lost her. He had been talking to her, telling her about that stupid bet, and she had lost consciousness.

There had been no dreams or thought. Her breathing had become shallow.

David had sensed his panic and come to check on her. Melanie had followed. The alarm that had crossed her face when she had taken Krysta’s temperature had scared the hell out of him.

Krysta’s struggles slowed. Her breath came in pained pants.

Etienne could regulate his body temperature enough to warm her, but that would defeat the purpose. I’m sorry.

She didn’t think an answer to him. Etienne wasn’t even sure she was lucid.

Then one of her hands—shaking violently—rose, clasped one of the arms he had clamped around her, and gave it a light squeeze.

Eyes burning, he dipped his head and buried his face in her hair.

“Could I just say again that this is awesome?” Krysta asked as they strolled, hand in hand, through UNC’s campus in Chapel Hill.

Etienne laughed. “Which part?”

“All of it. Being so strong and fast. Being able to see so much. I can’t believe I can walk around in the dark without a flashlight now.”

Grinning, he shook his head. She had been immortal for a couple of weeks now and had made the adjustment beautifully. She wasn’t even squeamish about infusing herself with blood, though he suspected that would have been vastly different if she actually had to drink it.

“I can hear everything,” she marveled. “Which can be kinda creepy. I’ve never paid much attention to wildlife, so I don’t know what animals are making the sounds I keep hearing and I’m hearing a lot of sounds. And the smells . . . So many! Good and bad.”

“It’s heady, isn’t it?” he asked.

“It really is.” She leaned into him and sent him a flirtatious look. “You smell very good, by the way.”

“As do you.”

“Those vampires,” she said, “on the other hand, do not smell good. They smell like . . . old blood or rancid meat or something.”

“Excellent.” He had caught their scent only seconds before she had. “How many are there?”

Her nostrils flared as she drew in a deep breath. “Four.”

“How far away?”

“That one’s harder.” She bit her lip. “A mile?”

“Almost two.”

She swore. “I’m still having a hard time judging distance.”

“It will become easier as you grow more accustomed to your heightened senses. The vamps are also traveling quickly, so that can throw you off.”

“Oh.”

“Sounds like they’re headed for Keenan Stadium. Let’s see if we can’t keep them from tearing it up for shits and giggles. That’s a saying, right?”

She laughed. “You can ease up on the slang now. We’re together.”

He grimaced. “I just don’t want you to think I’m too old for you.”

“I don’t. And, if I ever had—which I didn’t—one night in bed with you would have convinced me otherwise.”

“Minx. Don’t arouse me before a fight.”

“Why not? It might distract the vampires.”

He laughed. “I guess it would. Let’s go.”

Holding her hand, he sped toward UNC’s football stadium.

Halfway there, he stopped short, jerking Krysta to a halt, too.

“Ow,” she complained, rubbing her shoulder. “Maybe we shouldn’t hold hands when we run at preternatural speeds.”

“Forgive me,” he said absently, senses on high alert. He raised her hand to his lips. Do you smell that? Answer me with a thought.

She sniffed the air. Her brow furrowed. Is that . . . gun oil?

Yes. Let’s head up to the roof. He motioned to the building beside them. Since she hadn’t had much experience with jumping yet, he lifted her into his arms and nimbly leapt up onto the roof.

I really want to learn how to do that, she said as he lowered her feet to the asphalt.

Etienne pulled the infrared scope from his pocket and raised it to his right eye.

Is it mercenaries? she asked, scanning the darkened campus with her sharp brown eyes.

It took him a moment to confirm it. Yes. Even with the scope they’re hard as hell to locate. There are two in the bushes there. He pointed. Two more on that roof nearly hidden by the air-conditioning unit. Another on that one. More on the ground. They must be wearing that camouflage netting I’ve seen hunters wear. Without the scope, I can’t differentiate them from the foliage.

Wow. These guys are determined. How many are there?

I don’t know if I’m seeing them all. There don’t seem to be nearly as many as the last time. Maybe a dozen.

He drew her over into the shadows beside the air-conditioning unit and handed her the scope. I don’t think they’ve spotted us yet.