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“Dominique,mon amour. Wake up,” she whispered. “Réveillez-vous.”After almost three years of sharing a Frenchman’s mind, her command of the language even during the day approached fluent.
She wanted to weep with joy when she saw his eyes open. “Bonjour,” she said.
He stared at her. Hard. His eyes held no trace of vampire, but there was no warmth in them either. In fact—
“Dominique?”
“Oui. C’est moi.” He sat up. His eyes darted through the shadowy little room, flicked between Cassidy and Jackson, and finally settled on the empty syringe in Jackson’s hand. “Mais qui êtes-vous? Et où suis-je?”
All the air left Cassidy as though someone had kicked her in the gut. “No. Oh, no.”
“What?” Jackson said. “What’s he saying?”
“He—”Oh my God, no.“He wants to know where he is.” She could barely form the words. “He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know who we are.”
6
The Stranger
“Holyshit,”Jacksonmuttered.“Holy fucking shit.”
Cassidy turned aside, bracing herself against the wine rack, one hand pressed to her mouth. Her whole body slumped.
“Can you feel him?” Jackson asked. The panic edging his voice only fueled her own. She shook her head. “Even a little?”
“Nothing.” The word strangled in her windpipe. Nothing. The Dominique she knew and loved was gone, dead, body-snatched. The man struggling to stand on uncooperative legs might as well be an alien.
“What is this shit?” he blustered, the French accent more sibilant than ever. “What have you done to me? What do you want?”
“Easy,” Jackson said and raised both hands, one still holding the ominous needle. When Dominique’s eyes widened at the sight, he dropped the thing on the table together with the open case, backup syringe, and empty vial, all of which remained in full view.
“What have you done?” Dominique demanded again.
Yes. What have we done?Cassidy’s eyes filled with tears.
“You were sick,” Jackson tried. “Asleep. But you’re getting better now.”
“Asleep?” He waved a hand around at the cramped space. “Is this how you keep your guests? In”—his eyes caught on the heavy-duty door with the keypad glowing on the wall beside it—“a prison?”
“No, not a prison,” Cassidy said. She wiped at her eyes before stiffening her back and facing the alien. She had to get through this day somehow, one interminable minute at a time. “This is protection. For you.”
“Protection?” Dominique snorted. “Do not tell me fantasies.”
She pushed past Jackson on her way to the door and punched in the code.
“You sure about this?” Jackson wondered.
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure.” Never mind the vampire who forgot he was one. If she had to spend the whole day locked up in here with these two, she’d be the one making an attempt on Jackson’s life.
He lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry.”
“Too bad rats can’t talk,” she snapped under her breath. The handle clanged in her hand. The door swung open. Turning back to Dominique, she said, “C’mon then. I’m told it’s safe for you now.”
Dominique hesitated. When he finally walked forward, it was with great care, but each step grew more certain. In the kitchen he stopped again, looking around. Unlike his vampire face, his human face hid none of the confusion, nor the simmering panic. She clasped her hands tightly to stop herself from comforting him with an embrace that would surely be rejected.
“How do you feel?” Jackson asked. He sounded a little calmer, like he had a plan.
Dominique looked down, spread his hands out before him, and inspected his bare arms. At night, his skin could pass for a natural pale. Now it looked paper white. “How long have I been…asleep?”
