Love Bites by Lynsay Sands Page A

glowed. Being engaged obviously agreed with her.
    Etienne glanced at the man following her. Gregory Hewitt. Tall, dark-haired, and good-looking, Lissianna’s fiancé smiled at him in greeting.
    â€œI didn’t realize you two were coming over,” Etienne said. “I thought you were busy with wedding preparations.”
    â€œNever too busy for family,” Lissianna murmured. She hugged him. “Besides, I had to meet your life mate.”
    Etienne slumped. His life mate was fighting him tooth and nail—when she wasn’t doing completely outlandish things like insisting this was all a wet dream and jumping him.
    â€œAs I said,” Gregory reiterated, slipping his arm around Lissianna. She released Etienne and stepped back. “Perhaps you simply haven’t presented it in the right light.”
    â€œOf course he hasn’t,” Lissianna agreed, smiling. “Once she knows all the benefits, she’ll take to it fine.”
    â€œI told her the benefits,” Etienne insisted.
    â€œBet you didn’t tell her all of them.” Lissianna’s grin somewhat soothed his irritation at her questioning his abilities.
    â€œBet I did,” he countered.
    â€œWe shall see.”
    Lissianna shrugged and smiled, but the smile was aimed over his shoulder, making Etienne aware of someone else—Rachel, of course. He turned, his eyes widening as he took in her outfit. She had been wearing dress pants, a blouse, and a lab coat both times he’d seen her in the morgue. She had been naked,wrapped in a sheet, or wearing one of his shirts here in his home. Now he found himself gaping at her in a pair of tight, faded jeans and a T-shirt that barely reached her midriff. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and and her face was makeup free. Altogether, she looked about eighteen. A very sexy eighteen.
    Etienne was wowed.
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    â€œUmm, these aren’t … er …” Rachel shifted on her feet, tugging nervously on the bottom of her T-shirt in an effort to draw it down to hide her belly. “I don’t suppose you brought any other clothes back from my apartment, did you?”
    â€œI’m sorry. No, dear. Are they wrong?” Marguerite asked. Getting to her feet, she approached. “Aren’t they yours? I got them out of your closet. They were the only casual clothes I could find.”
    â€œYes. Yes, they’re mine,” Rachel said quickly. “But they’re old. I mean, I haven’t worn jeans since graduating University, and I’ve obviously outgrown them.” She frowned down at herself and tugged on the top again. “I should have thrown them out, really, but I’m something of a packrat.”
    â€œNo, you look wonderful.” Marguerite took her hand and drew her to the couch. Once she was seated, the woman patted her hand and said, “From what Etienne has told us, you appear to be a little confused.”
    â€œI’m not the one confused,” Rachel said, though she was no longer sure that was the case. This dream had taken a surreal twist. She wasn’t sure what was happening. Dream? Nightmare? Feverish imaginings? Was it all just bad drugs?
    â€œAh. Well.” Marguerite smiled widely. “Perhaps if you tell me the last thing you recall before waking, we could work from there.”
    â€œThe last thing,” Rachel pondered. The logic was comforting. Marguerite wasn’t claiming to be a vampire or insisting Rachel was, either. Maybe this would all work itself out.
    She ran her tongue over her upper teeth, relieved to find them perfectly normal. This all had to be the result of bad drugs. She rubbed absently at her chest where the ax had severed skin but left no scar. She was probably comatose right now and a bad morphine drip was giving her weird dreams. Not necessarily bad dreams. Those few heated moments in the bedroom hadn’t been bad at all. In fact, the only bad part to her mind was