Leaving him staring at her, she laid her head back and softly hummed with the music. After a few unsettled moments where he realized he had no response for her, therefore making silence the wisest option, he straddled the wooden chair in front of her again. When he draped one arm over the back, he ran a light hand along her knee, the back of her calf, a reassurance. But for which of them, he didn't know.
“What does this song make you think about?” she asked abruptly.
He closed his eyes, listening. “Fish.”
“Fish?”
“Yeah,” he said, keeping up the stroke on her leg. “Reminds me of how they dart forward so fast, but then put on the brakes to drift, as if they have all the time in the world.” The music changed to a staccato, and his lips curved. “That's them at the top, seeking food, making the water ripple up like when the wind passes over it. The slower, more tranquil part is when they all swim together.” When he saw her surprised look, he lifted a shoulder. “I've spent a couple days at an aquarium before.
It was . . . quiet.” It had been in one of the towns that had a large community aquarium. While he was between hunts, he sometimes ate a sandwich there, watched the fish, because in that place he didn't have to worry so much about guarding his back.
The music swelled to a crescendo. When she looked at him, obviously hoping for another visual, he shook his head. “I got nothing for that.”
“It's a sudden rainstorm. The water is striking the surface in a thousand different places, so the fish are all floating on the bottom, listening to the drum of it, waiting for the storm to pass.” Gideon turned at the quiet words. Daegan stood in the doorway, watching them both.
15
DAEGAN had smelled the scent of blood and vomit throughout their ground-level apartment before he even stepped off the elevator. Fortunately, the strongest source of it appeared to be in a laundry basket set up just outside the dungeon area. When he'd slid silently into the apartment, he'd paused, listening to them talk. He'd wanted a moment, because though he'd known this was going to be a rough transition, he hadn't entirely expected the lingering vibrations in the apartment to be as violent as they were.
If that hadn't told him what the past day had been like, the haggard look on the vampire hunter's face, the stiff way he sat, as if only his will was keeping him vertical, would have. Then there was Anwyn herself, chained like a dangerous monster, though he could see where the anchor chain had been about to give way and knew Gideon had had no choice. Her hair was braided, but some of it had come loose and snarled around her face. He'd kept her cleaned off, but still there were smears of blood here and there, and of course she smelled like vomit and blood as well, her white face as strained as Gideon's was exhausted.
Still, from their quiet banter, it was obvious they were hanging in there. It gave him an unexpected sense of pride in both of them.
She saw him first, but Gideon was already turning, as if he'd sensed his approach. The raw need in Anwyn's face, never so naked and plain before, affected him with embarrassing sentiment, making him ignore any reservations he'd normally have in the hunter's presence. Dropping the black tote on the chair, he was with her within an instant. Daegan put his hands on her face, one under her nape, and kissed her hard, fierce.
As he did, he was vaguely aware of Gideon unsnapping the lock holding the additional chains on her arms and working them loose, using the manual control on the side of the cross to give her enough slack to put her arms around Daegan's shoulders. A bit of sensitivity he wouldn't have expected from the man, but he didn't question it.
Daegan brought Anwyn up against him, holding her shuddering body close. A tremor went through his own, feeling her fear and vulnerability, how much she had suffered these past many hours. Yet here she was, still Anwyn. Though he knew how strong she was, he was sure he owed a good deal of that to the male awkwardly standing on their periphery.
When Gideon started to ease back to give them the semblance of privacy, one of her hands fell away from Daegan and captured Gideon's fingers without even looking, keeping him there with them. Daegan could tell it surprised the vampire hunter, as well as when he himself gave the man's shoulder a bruising squeeze of welcome, registering the tense, weary muscles. Christ, did the man think they'd simply used him, and had no regard for him otherwise?
An issue for a later time. For now, it was a long moment before Daegan pulled back from Anwyn, but only far enough to put his forehead to hers.
“I'm so sorry,cher . Did I leave you in good hands, or do I need to rip his heart out of his chest?”
“You do that, word's going to get around and you won't be able to find a babysitter for her again.” When Anwyn at last dropped his hand, Gideon backed up, but only to lean against the wall. “She's a real brat. She throws tantrums.”Anwyn smiled at them both through a sheen of tears. “He's been so generous, Daegan. Make him go rest now. I'm worried about him.”
“I'm right here, and I'm not leaving,” Gideon reiterated. “I'm going to help get that blood into you.” Daegan noted that the hunter had not doubted he would bring the blood with him. Of course, he would have done it or died trying, and maybe Gideon had understood that.
Anwyn spoke in an unexpectedly determined, cool voice. “I appreciate you doing that, Daegan, but as I said before you left, there was no need. I'm not going to take it.” It was as if she were politely refusing a dinner invitation because of other plans. Daegan exchanged glances with Gideon, but before he could draw the man away to get a better sense of what might be happening, Gideon straightened from the wall. There was a flicker to his expression that she apparently understood all too well, for the eyes she turned back to Daegan were a little wild, muscles tensing under his hands on her delicate face, slim neck.
“All I need is the two of you here. I feel balanced. The music is playing, and everything will be all right.” His brow creased as her voice faltered. Red color blushed across her sternum and the base of her neck, obscenely like the rose tint of an impending climax.
“She's going again,” Gideon warned in a low voice.
“No.” She cried out as Daegan's hands tightened on her. “Don't give it to me, Daegan. It will be like . ..” A strangled sound ripped from her throat as she fought the convulsion.
“Don't fight it,” Gideon urged her. “You know that makes it worse.” She ignored him, struggling to get the words out. “Taking his blood will be . . . like . . . raping me again .. .” The syllable became a long, low cry, and Gideon went for the wall control.
“No,” Daegan said sharply. Turning her in his arms so her back was to him, the chains wrapped around his forearm, he went to a crouch on the floor. He folded her to the ground between his knees, his body sheltering her.
Gideon watched as the vampire held her fast against him, even as the convulsion swept over her full force. She struggled and snarled, whipped her head around and sank her fangs into his arm. Keeping his head bent over hers, his concentration completely upon her such that the energy around them was a heated, pulsing thing, Daegan let her drink, holding her with just his knees and the one arm around her upper body. With the other, he stroked her hair, watching her suckle off his arm like a vicious nursing cub, growling and hissing all along. Her nails stabbed into his flesh on either side of her embedded fangs.
The chains clanked as she fought him, but he was far more powerful than a fledgling vampire. Even though that fledgling vampire could easily have thrown Gideon across the room.
Sure, he'd babysat her, held her hand for a day or so. This male could actually take care of her, keep her from all harm. Because he was a vampire, what Gideon was sworn to kill. Just like she was.
It was a red-alert flag, a reminder that this was all temporary. Soon, she wouldn't need him further. In fact, with Daegan back, he knew that was already the case, physically. A cold, hard insight that didn't seem to hold sway over his personal, selfish need. He wanted to stay. Even if she didn't need him any longer.
Evidently, she'd passed out, as she sometimes did right after the most violent ones. Daegan's gentler restraint had kept her from hurting herself, but she'd still oozed blood from her skin. He'd shifted her so the bloody vomit landed more on the tile than on either of them. Now he lifted her, maneuvering around the chains, and took her to the sofa. Laying her there, he caressed her face, arranged her limbs as comfortably as possible. Though his movements were smooth, tender, his face was back to that fixed mask. When he withdrew, he gestured to Gideon. The two left the cell, Gideon closing it. Daegan took them into the front room where Gideon assumed he'd keep a hypersensitive ear tuned to the dungeon area in case she woke.
“Has she been like this throughout?” Daegan said quietly.
“Yeah.” Gideon glanced down at the blood smeared on his arm and Daegan followed his attention.
“Each one leaves her more tired than the last; each one is more vicious than the last. Sometimes she talks like him . . . Barnabus. Short spurts. Nasty, crazy things. She doesn't seem aware of it.” Daegan digested that. Though his expression didn't change, Gideon wondered if he was thinking he didn't make Barnabus and his crew suffer enough. Whatever he'd done to them, Gideon agreed. “When she wakes, we are going to give her the sire's blood,” the vampire said curtly. “I assume we don't have a disagreement on that.”
“None at all.”
Daegan pressed his lips together. “Her sire was a homeless schizophrenic turned by a fugitive from a facility for the criminally insane. Who was initially turned by a weak made vampire.”
“Shit.” Gideon rubbed a hand over his face. “Is his blood going to help or hurt?”
“It should help. Usually the amounts needed are very small, as you know. The timing for them is vital to help manage the bloodlust, and the violence of the bloodlust attacks are probably what are driving her deeper into his madness.”