Vampire Mistress (23 page)

“Hell, even that’s probably just the excuse I used to stay with her when I couldn’t explain it to myself.” Jacob gave a half chuckle. “I needed to be with her. Breathing, life—everything that mattered—wasn’t going to be possible without her. It wasn’t the teenage crush kind of craziness where you can’t think with anything but your hormones. It was stronger, deeper, far more intense than that. Didn’t matter where she was going; I needed, wanted, to be there.

“I don’t think it works that way for everyone,” he added thoughtfully. “Sometimes it’s a slow-moving creek that builds into a river, making a permanent groove for the two of you over the years, and I bet that’s nice, too. But this was . . . this was what it was.”

He stopped. Gideon wondered what Lyssa felt, hearing his brother’s words. He knew how it made him feel. That yearning was back, the clamp on his gut that had drawn him here in the beginning, that had eased when Anwyn first walked into the room. He’d barely touched her, talked to her. Hell, he didn’t even know what side of the bed she liked. Or if it mattered, because, being a Mistress, she might prefer her bed partners to sleep on a dog pallet on the floor. That was definitely not his kind of thing. But he’d sleep in front of her door to protect her from anything that came through it, so maybe that was the same thing.

Even if she wasn’t that kind of Mistress, he knew about vampires. He was no one’s pet, no one’s slave, as he’d told Daegan. He didn’t bend over and let himself get fucked just because someone snapped their fingers and told him to do it. Didn’t matter that the first thing he’d wanted to do when he saw her was to drop to his knees and hope for her touch.

She did need some form of stability. But maybe it didn’t have to be the whole enchilada. There were three marks. Just one might help her, that one blood connection, and the only advantage she’d have over him would be knowing his geographical whereabouts. No way was he letting anyone into his head, the advantage of the second mark.

Fuck, what was he doing? Here he was, contemplating something there was no way he’d ever consider if he was in his right mind. This was jumping into a murky pond with no clue to the kind of monster beneath the water’s surface. Or, worse, he did have a clue, but he was considering it, anyway. For a lot of the reasons that Jacob had uncomfortably just outlined. Of course, Jacob had claimed he’d dreamed of Lyssa years before he’d met her, some kind of past-life bullshit. Gideon hadn’t even had a clear picture of Anwyn before he walked into her place. It couldn’t be the same.

Sometimes it’s a slow-moving creek that builds into a river . . .
But did you dive headfirst in that shallow creek, hoping it would become a river before your fool head cracked open?

“Gid, are you about to get yourself into the kind of trouble you can’t get out of?”

“Maybe. I’ll call you later. Give Lyssa a slap on the ass for me and tell her to bring you a beer.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that. Gideon—”

“Be easy, little brother. It’s all right. It’s a different kind of trouble, not the life-or-death kind.”
Maybe.
“Hey, do you or Lyssa know anything about a vamp named Daegan Rei?”

Jacob and Lyssa were of course telekinetically connected, so Jacob must have offered the question in his mind. Lyssa was suddenly on the line, her sensual voice frosted with ice he could feel, even long distance. “Gideon, what’s your involvement with Daegan Rei?”

“It’s a long story. I just wondered—”

“I don’t care how tough you are, you do
not
go after him.”

“I’m—”

“I am not prepared to attend your funeral, even if there were enough pieces of you left to have one. I don’t have a suitably demure black dress, and it will make me exceedingly angry to have to buy one.”

“Wear red lace, then. We’re—”

He had only a blink of warning, a sense of impending heat. Electricity jolted through his hand, enough to spasm through his fingers so that the phone clattered to the cement. He swore, shaking the tingling appendage. Holy Christ, how had she done that? He knew Lyssa’s Fey abilities were growing, thanks to her exploration of her father’s side of the family, but that was damned unsettling. He retrieved the phone gingerly, surprised it was still functioning. “How did you do that?”

“That’s also complicated.” Jacob again. “You’ve really ticked her off. But I got the gist of it. You’re not going after this guy, are you? If you are, I’m coming to you.”

“No. What I was trying to say before she went all Electron Woman on me was that . . . we’re sort of working together.”

Because that brought on a sudden shocked silence, he pressed the advantage to get the full message out. “I don’t really want to go into it right now, but I need to know what she knows about him. I’m fully aware he’s a badass, and my intention isn’t to tangle with that side of him. We’re helping someone . . . someone turned by force. She means something to him . . . and to me, too. Maybe. I mean, I just met her, but there’s something . . . She needs me. Don’t start spouting damsel-in-distress-syndrome crap, or I’ll hang up.”

“Hold on,” Jacob said absently. Gideon waited, getting a vague sense of conversation, though no one was speaking.

“Lyssa doesn’t want to say a lot, but I told her you could be trusted with this. You can’t repeat it, okay? Not even to Daegan, because no one outside of the Council is supposed to know. It’s important.”

“Yeah, got it. Like, who am I going to tell?”

Gideon cursed to himself, but of course his brother had already jumped on it. “You’re completely solo now, aren’t you? You’re taking them out on your own. You stupid, arrogant—”

“You going to tell me about Daegan Rei, or you going to waste your breath on bullshit?”

“I swear to God, if I could reach you, I’d break your fucking neck.” Jacob sighed. “Fine. Brace yourself for the irony. Daegan Rei is the Council’s private assassin. He’s a vampire hunter.”

16

D
EATH Bringer. Grim Reaper. All the clichés, of course, wrapped up in the name he went by, a mix of the East and West. Daegan for black or dark, Rei for spirit or ghost. Black Spirit, Dark Ghost, or just Ghost. Lyssa knew his origins, the story behind how he’d gotten to be the Council’s private killer, but she wasn’t willing to share any of that. Apparently, no one but the Council knew who the guy was. He existed outside even the strict vampire hierarchy of overlords and Region Masters, somehow moving under their radar like a ghost in truth.

It stood to reason, because though the vampire world worked through power and control, they had an illusion of diplomacy to maintain as well. Because of the nature of the species, a vampire disappearing from sight for indefinite stretches of time rarely caused comment. Therefore, the Council at times found it more expedient to have the more embarrassing vampires in violation of Council directives erased quietly, rather than hauling them up in front of the Council for a public execution. Translation: Daegan was handling population control of the made vampires, like Barnabus, who’d gone off the map and could expose the vampire world to humans in a big, violent way. Less red tape and politics.

But something didn’t figure, if only the Council knew about him. Barnabus had asked for Daegan by name. Did someone on the Council no longer appreciate his services? Or were they trying to test him in some way? He wondered if the realization that he’d been sold out had enhanced Daegan’s fury, an additional undercurrent to his intense reaction to Anwyn’s attack.

Gideon was even more cynical than Lyssa—and being more cynical than a woman who’d been around more than a thousand years was an accomplishment—and he could see rampant possibilities for abuse of that killing power. But what he’d seen of Daegan so far didn’t gel with that. Cool control, clear-eyed and objective.

His lip curled. Freaking politics. There were vampire hunters, few though their number were, who’d tried to band together into conglomerates, and Gideon had shied away from them for that very reason. One of the few times he’d made the mistake of being a joiner outside his own personally organized cells had resulted in the complete snafu at the last Vampire Gathering. They’d been used as pawns of made vampires, and a lot of them had been killed. There’d been too many egos and players involved. No one listened, so no one realized they were walking into what ultimately could have been a death trap for all of them.

The rattling passage of the old man and his cart coming back stirred him. After his phone call, he’d remained against the brick wall of Atlantis, staring into space, lost in thought. The black cat was curled between his boots, sleeping, her purr a soft motor at the back of his thoughts. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, but at length, he rose, dislodging the cat. Sighing, he stopped at the kitchen door, rapped with his knuckles and met the gaze of the startled kid who popped open the door, obviously expecting a delivery. Gideon gestured to the black cat.

“You have a customer. Anw—Miss Naime would want you all to be feeding them while she’s unavailable, right?”

The kid glanced at the cat, then up at Gideon, his gaze wary. “I gave the whole lot of them a tray of chicken scraps a little while ago.”

“Hmmph.” Gideon glanced down at the cat. “Faker.” He kept going toward the maintenance door, leaving the boy staring after him.

When he reached the elevator entrance and punched in the code, he thought about those eight numbers. Twelve, seventeen, thirteen, ten. If a code was random numbers, people usually spelled it out. One-two-one-seven, et cetera. But what if it meant December seventeenth, year 1310? Could vampires be as predictable as people, using their birth-dates for access codes? That would make Daegan about seven hundred years old. A hell of a long time for him to be around and nobody to know anything about him. The Council had been around for way less time than that, and Lyssa had indicated he’d served them for only the most recent decades. So where had he been before then?

Gideon was surprised to find that Daegan had moved Anwyn out of the cell in the dungeon room to the couch in the sitting room. She was draped in a satin robe now, the blanket tucked around her. It seemed she hadn’t yet stirred, or if she had, it had been brief and then she’d gone under again. It was the longest time she’d subsided, and he didn’t know if that was a good or bad sign. Maybe she’d dived deep into unconsciousness, knowing she’d have to take that hated blood when she woke.

The robe’s neckline was loose, exposing the curves of her breasts, the column of her throat. With one hand above her head and another across her abdomen, she made an erotic picture even with her still healing scars. Her expression was at rest, her lips full, inviting touch, lashes fanning her cheeks. But as he watched, pain flitted across her face, discomfort, and she shuddered. She turned, curling into a fetal ball.

Moving forward, Gideon adjusted the blanket over her. Her skin was ice-cold. He picked up an additional throw from the nearby chair, unfolded and spread it over her, smoothing his hands over the curve of waist and hip, resting briefly on her thigh. When he went to a squat beside her, so close to her face, he remembered how she’d looked earlier, when she’d spoken so plain.
I feel better when you’re both here . . .

She didn’t even know him. It was just Nightingale syndrome, or whatever the hell they called it. As strong as she seemed, this was about as rough as anyone could imagine things getting. He’d shown up with Daegan in the alley. Her fixation had to do with his falsely heroic timing. That was all.

The sound of the television in the reading room told him where Daegan was. It figured he’d be close enough to keep an eye on her. Since he was more than capable of controlling her during an attack, he could take the risk, give her the comfort of these surroundings instead of the cell. Maybe that was the other reason she was finally at rest, the weight of the chains off of her for the time being. Her body was taking the ease her fear had denied it these past long hours.

Rising, he moved toward the sitting room. With a shock, he recognized the voices on the television. It was the security tape from his session with Anwyn. He stepped in just as he broke loose on the screen, grabbed her and slammed her into the alcove where the stained glass had been. Jesus Christ. He looked like some rabid animal, no better than what had attacked her. And worse, he could now clearly see where the glass had sliced into her back. While that had later become one gash among all those others, he was no less culpable for it.

His attention jerked to the chair. Daegan’s long legs were stretched out, hands lying with deceptive ease on the chair’s armrests. His dark gaze flickered up toward Gideon. “You were fortunate I wasn’t here tonight.”

“She wasn’t. If you had been, we probably wouldn’t all be here. She handled it, though. Didn’t even bat an eye, and I could have killed her in a heartbeat.”

“She’s always had a warrior’s courage and a fool’s sense of when to make use of it.” As Daegan hit the mute button but forwarded the tape, Gideon scowled.

“You just get off on seeing me naked?”

The vampire ignored the barb, kept his attention trained on the screen. “Anwyn has watched you since you first came here. I was surprised it took her as long as it did to take over your sessions.” Daegan shifted, draped one leg over the chair arm, like a sprawling panther. “But it has been a long time since she’s participated directly.”

“Maybe she was just feeling charitable.”

Daegan snorted. “Anwyn is the last woman who would take on a session because she was feeling charitable. I cannot tell what it is between you, but it is there, radiating off the screen.” Then his gaze snapped back to the monitor, sharpening like the edge of a sword.

He hit the play button, leaning forward. Gideon followed his direction. When he saw the bathing area of the Queen’s Chamber, his brow creased, remembering she’d signaled all the cameras to be turned off. Apparently, at least one of them hadn’t been. His jaw set.
James.
While he’d likely obeyed the intention of her order, being the only one monitoring or having access to the footage, her head of security hadn’t been willing to take it on faith that she’d be okay.

As much as it made him wince to see his bare ass at this angle, as his recorded self took Anwyn to the floor, putting her beneath him, Gideon had renewed respect for James Watts. In his shoes, he wouldn’t have agreed with leaving her completely defenseless, either. Of course, the tape was in Daegan’s hands, suggesting James might have acted out of self-preservation.

When Daegan hit the pause button, Gideon suppressed the desire to squirm. While the actual moment had been something he’d like to experience again, he didn’t particularly care to revisit it with another man.

But Daegan’s head whipped around, his expression giving Gideon a more immediate concern. “She has never let a man do what you are doing there. Never trusted one to lie upon her like that. Never wanted that.” His lip curled. “No human male, that is.”

Gideon recalled the peculiar stillness of that moment, when everything they both were had melted away. It was as if they were staring at each other, soul to soul, no ground or sky, just floating. Up or down, above or under, didn’t really seem relevant. The jab at his testosterone was enough to get his ire up, though. “Feeling threatened, vampire?”

Daegan smiled then, chilling enough to freeze blood. “I’ve had no more sleep than you, vampire hunter. Don’t aggravate me. Why did you come back?”

“I told you I would.” Gideon pointed at Anwyn’s sleeping form, kept his voice low with effort. “Just because I’m not ready to commit my entire life to being on a vampire’s leash doesn’t mean that I don’t want to help her. No matter how invincible you think you are, I know it’s still going to take two of us to get her through this. She should be waking soon. Maybe we should try to give Barnabus’s blood to her when she’s groggy.”

“Vampires are rarely groggy when we wake.” With another of those thorough looks Gideon was beginning to detest, Daegan rose, thankfully clicking off the television. As he reached the doorway, he stopped, considering Gideon.

“I was perhaps wrong to push you so hard at a decision that is a lifelong commitment, so far from what you’ve known and been,” the vampire observed. “But it doesn’t mean I’m completely wrong. I believe you know it as well, no matter how much it panics you. She needs you. I think what worries you most is how much you might need her.”

“We don’t even know each other, not really. Hell, we haven’t even had a real date.”

“I knew Anwyn Naime from the moment I met her. It’s like that with certain people in our lives. We know our fates will be interwoven. It may not be the way we expect or wish, but it will happen.” Daegan took another step forward, closing the distance between them. With effort, Gideon held his ground. He refused to give the bastard the satisfaction of a retreat.

The vampire’s unrelenting onyx eyes showed a flicker of sardonic amusement, acknowledging his obstinance with mere inches between them. The dark hair he kept cropped so short gleamed blue-black as he cocked his head, studying Gideon’s face closely. “You’ve been a vampire hunter for many years, Gideon. It’s showing. Before long, somebody
will
be faster. That, and many other things, may be telling you it is time to do something else, something as worthwhile. Perhaps more so. This situation may only be one simple story in a world full of stories, but it may be the story that you are destined to become part of.”

Damn how it looked, Gideon stepped sideways, moved back into the sitting room. As he did, his gaze fell on Anwyn once again, the pale skin, the fragile grace of her hand resting above her head. The sable hair drifting across her face, her tense mouth.

“I won’t walk away from her as long as she needs me,” he said gruffly. “But you and I both know it will happen eventually, because of what she’s becoming. I can’t go with her on that journey, not past a certain point.” When Daegan said nothing, Gideon added, “You shouldn’t have been watching the damn tape.”

“What I saw in the tape merely confirmed things I already knew about you.”

“If you don’t stop saying things like that without fucking telling me what you mean—”

The vampire made a warning noise in his throat. Gideon followed his gaze to see Anwyn beginning to stir. Their charge was waking up.

At least the next step of what they needed to do was clear, even if nothing else was.

Anwyn felt as though something had died in her mouth. Her blood was boiling, while her skin was arctic to the touch. That vividness, as if she’d stepped into a television screen where the brightness and contrast were on their highest settings, hadn’t abated. Though she couldn’t see it, she knew it was later in the morning, because her body was weighed down by daylight. It was unnerving, because she wasn’t sure if she had the strength to rise off the couch. The shadows in her mind had returned full force. Whispering and shifting restlessly, the tiny gremlins with red eyes told her things. Insidious, terrible things about what she would do, what she wanted to do, who she was.