3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Etienne

"What the hell are you doing out there?"

Thomas had obviously been listening to my lively rapport with Ryker and was unhappy—or jealous? "What? What could possibly be wrong, brother? I'm effervescent tonight."

"Math, Etienne! You need to do some fucking math and brush up on your history while you're at it, my friend. You said your grandfather fought with the Americans, and you were born in Bayeux? That's true, but your history doesn't add up. What are you doing with the young man?"

"I am drawn to him, Thomas. There is something special about him." What was I saying? When had I ever found anything special about a human aside from their blood type?

"Etienne, don't repeat past mistakes."

Of course, my brother was referring to the last time I became enamored with a human. Her name was Farrah, a beauty who was shy and quiet. I believed I could help her overcome her inability to shine, but my failure to assess her mental state was my downfall. Her blood sang to my beast, and I wanted her companionship at all costs. I failed to see the signs of failure.

Farrah had been in love with her best friend, Tara, who was engaged to a young doctor. I didn't see the peril surrounding their friendship until it was too late.

When Tara and her boyfriend snuck off and married without Farrah's knowledge, she was distraught. In my attempts to calm her, I let the beast take over to bring her the comfort only he could give by drinking just a bit of her blood and giving her part of himself in return.

But then, the beast went too far. He drank too much, and though he left her alive with some of himself to brighten her mood, the comfort he believed he was giving turned out to be the death knell for Farrah because of an unforeseen complication in her physiology.

She went into a euphoric panic over the loss of her true love Tara, and Farrah slit her wrists in a warm bath. She was dead when I returned, and I couldn't bring her back or even give her immortality, which wouldn't have been my first choice. I didn't see our immortality as a gift the way Killian had touted, and my brothers and sisters believed it to be. Eternity could be a long, lonely walk.

"I'll never make that mistake again. Now, check with Eugene to see how the special dessert is coming. I want a une grande éclaboussure . " I lifted my right hand and kissed my fingers, making Thomas laugh.

"Big splash. Got it."

He hurried back into the kitchen, and I returned to the table. "How about some wine? I have a few lovely selections from a vintner in Burgundy. Would you like to try them? I have a Chardonnay and a red."

I heard my voice, which wasn't as steady as I'd have liked. What was wrong with me? Ryker's blood was rushing through his veins, singing a song to me like I'd never heard in my long existence. The draw was stronger than I'd ever imagined—even more so than when I met Farrah.

I couldn't save Farrah from her heartbreak. What if Ryker DeWitt was walking the same path?

After I poured two wine flights of the vintages available, I returned to the table to find the appetizers had been cleared. "I'm sorry it took me a few minutes. Minor issues any restaurateur faces during evening service."

It was a lie, of course, and I disliked lying to anyone, much less myself. Only a fool believed the lies told by a fool, and I had both feet firmly planted in each camp. After leaving the kitchen I'd hurried to my office and paced, trying to manage the draw I felt to young Ryker. The beast inside me had been busy as well, trying to claw his way out. I couldn't let that happen.

Ryker seemed like a beautiful person, inside and out, and I was fascinated with him. Fighting the attraction I felt for him was a battle I wasn't ready to face. The beast inside me, that bastard, was obsessed with Ryker's life source. How the hell would I stop him from doing harm to the man I was drawn to?

"This is delicious." I glanced up to see it was Cubby, the friend, who spoke. He was holding up the Chardonnay and smiling. He wasn't a connoisseur, but he seemed to appreciate the delicious taste of the small glass I'd given him.

"Are you finding any specific notes in the taste?" I longed for the days when I could taste a spectacular vintage of wine. It had been far too long but seeing the nods between Ryker and Cubby whet my palette for a taste the only way I could experience it. The beast was purring at the mere idea, but I fought hard to keep him contained.

Ryker took a sip of the Burgundy and seemed to hold it on his tongue before swallowing the wine. "It tastes more, uh—I'm afraid I don't know anything about wine, Mr. Tremblay. I'm a beer and whiskey man, myself."

"Etienne, please. Close your eyes and take another sip. Just feel the tingle on your tongue."

The beautiful man did as I asked before swallowing as his long lashes slowly lifted. "It tastes like the vanilla cookies my grandmother used to make when I was growing up."

That was a great observation—from what I'd been told at the tasting we'd held with the human staff when the cases had arrived. To be honest, Ryker could have told me it tasted like buttered popcorn, a treat I knew many humans enjoyed, and I'd have praised him.

"Very good. Shall we order entrées?"

I explained the specials we were offering and left the table to give the two of them a chance to make their choices. I went into the kitchen and listened unashamedly.

"These prices are a little more than my budget is prepared to absorb." It was Cubby's comment. I was going to pay for their meals anyway, but it was interesting to learn that money was an issue. I wondered if it was the same for Ryker. I hadn't thought about money in a century.

"Hey, I was prepared to pay for the group, so I got you covered. Why don't you just talk to your father? This whole fight between the two of you is ridiculous, Cubby. You know he'd give you an allowance if you said you were sorry for calling him a bigoted old cracker and took the job at Brown Oil." That was Ryker being a good friend. I was beyond impressed.

"I say this with love, Ryker. You grew up without parents, so you don't know what it's like to be told you're breaking your mother's heart by not marrying a young woman and pretending to have a ‘normal' marriage to keep from humiliating your embarrassingly wealthy family."

I stepped closer to the door, not that it would help me hear any better. I wasn't sure if I should interrupt or wait for more information.

If he has no family, nobody will miss him, Etienne. He could be ours forever. That was the beast, the batard.

"Shut up." That was me—aloud—in front of the kitchen staff.

I expected the poke on my shoulder. I turned to see Gerard, the head chef, standing behind me with his hands on his hips. "I thought we agreed that the kitchen was mine and you wouldn't give the staff any bullshit. Isn't that what we discussed when I agreed to work here after you went through five chefs?"

I wasn't scared of anyone after I killed Killian. I wasn't necessarily afraid of my maker, but I respected him until he'd turned Rory in such a callous way. Gerard Wilson was the one human who I was a bit afraid of. He held our business in his skilled hands, and if I did anything to erode my relationship with the man, we would lose everything we'd recently worked to rebuild after we closed the restaurant because I couldn't find the right chef to work with my family.

Gerard was a forty-nine-year-old man of Bahamian and Creole descent. His mother was Bahamian, and she taught him miraculous things to do with spices, according to the review we received from a food critic in town. He treated his staff with respect, and part of our agreement when he came to work at The House of Tremblay ten years earlier was that I wouldn't interfere with his kitchen. I'd violated that covenant by spying on my guests from his kitchen door.

"I apologize, Gerard. I wasn't addressing any of the kitchen staff. Just the stupid voice in my head." I hurried out of the kitchen and slowly made my way to the drink station to take a breath.

"I don't need his money. I don't want his money." Cubby's voice held a conviction rarely expressed by humans these days. It was refreshing to hear it from a young person. Hell, everyone was a young person as far as I was concerned.

"Let me loan you some money, Cubby." Ryker's voice was brimming with concern this time.

"Nope. You're my best friend, and I don't borrow from friends. Now, if Alexandria had made that offer, I'd have taken her up on it in a heartbeat and wouldn't think anything of it if I didn't pay her back." Ryker's laugh was everything I needed to hear.

I strolled back to the table and took my seat next to Ryker. When I glanced toward the kitchen door, I saw Rory standing with a breadbasket, so I motioned for him to rejoin us.

"Have you had enough time to choose what you'd like to have for dinner?" I sensed a bit of residual tension between Cubby and Ryker due to the conversation I'd eavesdropped on. They had a very good friendship that I envied, so I wanted to change the subject for them.

"Maybe you'd like to share entrées? The servings are plentiful, and some of our diners enjoy sharing. I promise there's enough for both of you." My gaze stayed on Ryker because I couldn't believe such a gorgeous creature had crossed my path.

"I, uh, I'd like to have the crawfish etouffee. Cubby?"

"Uh, how about the catfish special? That's sharable, right?"

I grinned at the two of them. "Yes, it is. I'll give your order to the kitchen and be right back."

"I'll come with you." Rory jumped up and followed me back to the service area. His eyes settled on Cubby and wouldn't budge.

"What on earth is going on with you and the human?" I pushed Rory into a quiet corner and compelled him to be honest with me, which was something I promised I'd never do to him when he joined the coven.

Rory tore his eyes from mine. "Don't do that Etienne. You promised."

I threw up my hands. "Then tell me what's going on."

Rory sighed. "Two nights ago, I met Cubby at a dance club. He let me drink from him. Check the puncture on the left side of his neck. I blurred his thoughts regarding the encounter, but he'll remember my face the more he sees it."

Hell's bells. "Do you want him to remember you? You don't have to sit with us."

For a moment, Rory closed his eyes before he finally smiled and licked his lips. "No. I'll stay. I want him to remember me, Etienne. I could fall in love with him."

Sadly, I knew the feeling. Neither of us would be happy at the end of the night, I was sure.