A voice carried to her on the country breeze. That of a male singing “Moon of Alabama.” When she topped the next rise, she glimpsed her brother’s tall, dark form in the distance.
She grinned as the road dipped and she lost sight of him. Up another hill she flew and there he stood, in the center of a rare, straight stretch of road.
Étienne, not Richart.
On his head rested a bullfighter’s cap. The hands he extended to his left as he faced her clutched a red cape he dangled and flapped like a matador.
Laughing, she leaned down low and rocketed toward the cape.
Étienne yanked it away at the last moment, then wheeled to watch her slow and turn around.
A boyish grin lit his face as she stopped before him and cut the engine. He posed dramatically. “Olé.”
Lisette shook her head as she removed her helmet. “Wherever did you find that hat? You look about as manly in it as Bugs Bunny did.”
“Sheldon.”
She rolled her eyes. “I should have known.”
Balling up the cape, he threw it in the open door of the Tesla Model S parked on the shoulder, then tossed the hat in after it. “He has the whole costume—flashy pants and a frilly shirt—but I just borrowed the cape and hat.”
“I’m not going to ask what he needs it for.”
He laughed. “Nor am I.”
“So?” she prompted. “Are you taunting all motorists who happen to come this way, or did you want to see me about something?”
“Just wanted to see you,” he answered, tucking his hands in his pockets.
“About?”
He shrugged. “A brother can’t just shoot the breeze with his sister?”
“If you just wanted to shoot the breeze with me, you would have called me.”
He pursed his lips. “I heard about the rumble you and Richart had with the hard-core vampire and wanted to make sure you were okay.”
She snorted. “Of course I’m okay. If anyone, you should be asking Richart. The vamp planted him a facer that sent him flying back into a building.”
Étienne grinned. “I know. He told me. I wish I could’ve caught that on video. I would’ve forwarded it to every immortal I know.”
“And then Richart would’ve planted you a facer.”
He nodded. “So he would.” He walked beside her as she guided her Busa over onto the shoulder in front of his car. “Did I ever tell you about the pugilist vampire I fought during my first year hunting?”
Surprised there was actually something she didn’t know about him (over two hundred years together had left few secrets among the three siblings), she shook her head. “No.”
“He was a professional fighter. Ugly as sin. With a reach like Muhammad Ali.”
Lisette hummed in pleasure as she thought of Ali. “How I loved to watch that man fight.”
Étienne smiled. “When I stumbled upon the vampire, I expected the usual back-alley scrapper and—full of my new strength and power—”
“And full of yourself?”
“A little bit, yes,” he confessed with a chuckle. “I totally underestimated him. He had been ducking and dodging punches for years and did an excellent job of doing the same with my blades, landing right hooks and uppercuts that felt like sledgehammers.” He shook his head. “I nearly had my ass handed to me that night.”
She grinned, imagining it. “I assume you prevailed in the end?”
“I did. Barely. A humiliating night to be sure.”
She laughed. “Too bad that couldn’t have been caught on video. Does Richart know about it?”
“Yes,” he said on a groan, “and he never lets me forget it. I tried to keep it from him, but he felt the pain that Cockney bastard inflicted and knew something had happened.”
The twins had always been able to feel each other’s pain even as mortals, something that had only added to her guilt over accidentally transforming them. Immortal Guardians hunted vampires every night. Younger immortals like Lisette and her brothers often suffered injuries while performing their duties. And because of their connection, Étienne felt both the pain of his wounds and Richart’s every night and vice versa, so they experienced twice the pain.
“How did you handle the pain of our little encounter last night?” she asked. “I imagine you must have felt it when that fist struck Richart squarely in his nose and shattered it.”
“Oh, I felt it,” he said, “and scared the hell out of Krysta.”
“Has she never seen you experience Richart’s pain before?”
“No. And we were, ah”—he waggled his eyebrows—“when it happened, so she thought she had hurt me.”
Lisette laughed. “You had already stopped hunting for the night?”
Grinning, he shook his head. “Krysta gets bored and likes to squeeze in make-out sessions when things are slow.”
“Make-out sessions? Why don’t you just have a quickie?”
“Because she likes to torture me,” he complained with a smile. “Although I have to admit, waiting all night while we hunt and she tempts me mercilessly does tend to make our lovemaking rather explosive when we finally come together at dawn.”
Envy rose again. “I imagine it does.” She glanced at her watch. “Speaking of hunting, I should get to it.”
“Why don’t you join Krysta, Cam, and me for breakfast when you’re finished and stay the day?”
“No, thank you. Tracy is staying at David’s place, and I was looking forward to having a quiet day to myself.”
“If it’s because of what I just told you, don’t worry. We had our bedroom soundproofed, so you won’t hear a thing. Richart did, too, by the way.”
“He did?”
Étienne nodded. “And was hilariously red-faced when I broached the subject with him.”
Poor Richart. He had always been shyer than his brother. “He really didn’t realize we could hear everything?”
“Hadn’t even considered it. And don’t mention it to Jenna. She thinks Richart had the bedroom soundproofed so she would sleep better. All the night sounds she can hear now kept her awake before he did it.”
Lisette nodded. She wouldn’t enlighten her brother’s new wife or tease her about it. Jenna made Richart happy. Lisette didn’t want her to experience a single moment of regret over transforming and marrying him.
“So.” Étienne leaned against his car as he watched her don her helmet.
“So?”
“Breakfast?” he asked again.
“No, thank you. I really am looking forward to having the house to myself.”
“Why aren’t you spending the day at David’s? You’ve haunted the place for months, spending more time there than at your own home. Now, suddenly… pfft… you’re never there.”
Richart had said nearly the same thing and she had managed to put him off. Somehow Lisette didn’t think Étienne would drop the subject so easily. He knew better than anyone why she had lingered at David’s home, having experienced Ami’s nightmares himself. He must wonder at her abrupt lack of concern.
“I’m not the only one who has noticed,” he continued.