He didn"t define his feelings about her. She needed help, and he helped her. That alone might have ruffled her feathers, not wanting to be some “damsel in distress” to him, but she saw other things. No matter how violent or ugly her attack, he hungered for the intimacy of the aftermath. Like when her head was in his lap, her fingers curled under his thigh, lashes brushing her cheeks, soft lips relaxed, coaxing his fingers to touch them. Every once in a while she"d nip him when he tried, playing with him when she felt good enough. But he wanted to touch her everywhere. He couldn"t get enough of having her close. When she needed him so much, so clearly, there was no conflict for him.
Though it had been a long time since Gideon Green had had a woman in his life, he remembered with aching clarity what the casual intimacy felt like, as well as what it felt like to lose her. He would never again take for granted the ability to touch, flare his nostrils to take in her scent, or do any single thing to make her smile, to make life easier for her. Heavens above, he had his task cut out for him on that one.
She knew she hadn"t accepted that this was the way the whole rest of her life could be. From that perspective, the lengthening of her life span wasn"t a boon. She might need protection for the next few centuries to keep her from harming others. She might never again move freely down a city street, enjoying the night sounds and press of city crowds, go into Macy"s and browse through lingerie or check out a new gallery.
Beyond her selfish interests, how could she ask them to commit their lives to this? Daegan, who wouldn"t even leave to go get fresh blood when he"d been here, and Gideon, who"d become her shadow, sleeping right outside the cell they"d used for her seizures, until Brian had arrived. One very beneficial thing the scientist had brought with him were two sets of locking cuffs that couldn"t be broken by her vampire strength. They allowed her to have the seizure wherever she was, rather than having to imprison her further. Being bound and caged was intolerable to her, but she"d had to bear it. Having only the restraints was at least an improvement.
She"d been able to go back to her bed during her daylight sleep, instead of staying in the cell. Still, with Brian"s constant measurements and readings, and Gideon having to stick so close, there were times she intensely missed her solitude, her sanctuary from everything. Many mornings she"d lain alone in bed reading, listening to music, thinking over the night in the club, the adventures and banter of her staff. She"d taken that for granted, that freedom and ease of existence. The ability to truly be alone. How did she wrap her mind around a few centuries, when she couldn"t conceive of living this way for a few months?
Daegan had told her the bloodlust would die down, become more manageable. Their “hope” was that the madness, Barnabus"s schizophrenic shadows, would as well, when it wasn"t fueled by that fledgling-crazed hunger or transition.
When it all became too much, she took advantage of the pleasure of her servant"s body.
How easy it was to use him like that appalled her in some ways, thrilled her in others. Gideon was generous with his body, as all men could be. She wanted to challenge him more, because she"d always required more than a cock and a pretty face. She wanted the soul as well. The first night they"d met, she"d made it clear that she would always ask more than he was used to giving, and he had responded just as she"d craved, with passion and fury both. Then she"d been turned.
If she could get past her fear of her new strength, her bloodlust, she would open that pleasurable battleground again. He would fight her—she knew it—for both her pleasure as well as his. He was a quick study that way. She"d always been very sexual, of course, but with a vampire"s constitution, arousal was barely a thought away, and not in a damaging, addictive way. It was simply a part of her now, like her penchant for paintings of isolated landscapes and the fact she liked butter-pecan ice cream more than she liked strawberry. Desire was an ocean in her, always moving, always flowing.
Fortunately, a third-marked servant was well-disposed to keep up, even though she couldn"t get past her fears to do much more than savage vanilla lovemaking, an edge to it that cut her to the bone, because she wanted so much more from him. The vampire hunter, with no clear-cut mission or purpose now except seeing to her immediate needs.
It shamed her, her self-absorption. She wasn"t the only one dealing with a radical transition to what her life had been. Gideon"s conflicts could destroy him faster than a whole club full of vampires. He was her servant. She should be helping him. Though he always put her first, that dark side of him was getting stronger.
The Mistress in her had recognized it in him the first time he"d come into her club. A gravitational pull toward self-destruction.
If she didn"t figure out how to face her fears, find a balance with the bloodlust and shadow voices, she wouldn"t be the Mistress that helped him overcome that. She"d be the vampire that hastened it.
2
Present Day
THE phone by her bed was making a dovelike trilling. Belatedly, she realized it was the ringtone she"d programmed for Daegan"s calls. Anwyn groggily groped for it, but a male hand reached over her, far more coordinated upon waking. Gideon was used to sleeping lightly, in case his enemies tried to gut him. She"d pointed out, more than once, that most would prefer to torture him first. Therefore, he could probably afford to sleep more deeply.
He opened the phone, tucked it in her hand and dropped a lingering kiss on her bare shoulder before sliding out of the bed, headed for the bathroom. He didn"t always sleep with her during daylight hours, but yesterday had been a little rough. Brian had tried a different variation of the blood cocktail. It had worked in reverse, making her seize four times. Or was it five?“Cher? Are you awake?”
“Yes.” It took a moment to speak, and not just because she was having trouble getting conscious. That dream of their meeting had lingered, along with a tight ache of need for Daegan in her chest. In real time, that ache was wrapped up in the barbed wire of those things that still lay between them. Things that couldn"t be resolved over a phone, damn it. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” But there was a pause, as if Daegan was considering the answer. “I"ll be here a little longer, but I wanted to check in, see how you were doing.”
“Brian can give you a full report. Gideon has the spectator version.” Stop it, she chided herself. God, what was it that turned her into a shrew every time she talked to him? In her dreams, she gave herself to him as if none of that was important.
“I"m sure. But I want to know how you are doing, cher.” His tone, that deep timbre, sensual and stroking, rippled along her nerves. “I wanted to hear your voice.” She shifted to a sitting position, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “Lord Brian is helping me, just like you said. He"s letting me work in my upstairs office for a couple hours each day, as long as I take these vital readings every fifteen minutes and keep my mind open to Gideon the whole time.”
“I"m glad. It will keep getting better, cher. You"re strong. Is Gideon taking good care of you?”
“He sleeps with me when it"s bad. And he"s always there . . . yes. He is helping.” A silence, full of too much being unsaid. It made her head hurt, made her want to curse, because she knew it was impossible to miss the resentment in her tone. She hadn"t meant for it to be there. Goddamn it, yes, she did, but that shouldn"t mean anything. “Daegan—”
“I"m glad he"s there, and that Brian is making progress. I"ll let you go back to sleep.”
“Come home,” she snarled. “And stop being such an ass.”
She slammed the phone down on the night table, forgetting her strength. It still wasn"t natural to her, having the ability to easily demolish an electronic device and split the cherrywood top of the table, sending a slender crack snaking six inches toward the edge.
“Damn it. Why couldn"t I have found a typical, shortsighted, clueless male?” Anwyn pressed her fingertips to her temples, wondering how it was possible for her to be developing a migraine. Vampires didn"t get migraines. Of course, her transition from human to vampire hadn"t followed the usual pattern. With her luck, she"d still get the common cold and menstrual bloat. If that was the case, she would throw away her morals and kill someone.
Being an unstable, schizophrenic vampire with PMS was too much to bear on top of it all.
“You called?”
She glanced up. Gideon was back in the doorway. He could be downstairs, or even out on the street, and still be in her mind, but he rarely strayed that far, knowing that Brian wasn"t Daegan. When she lost it, she had to have Gideon close, had to have his touch. Gideon was hers, her servant, and somehow that made it more acceptable to her Mistress personality. As Daegan had predicted—damn him. Again.
The first time Brian had agreed she could try a short walk through the club during pre-opening hours, Gideon had been right with her, as had Brian. She"d been so nervous she"d sweated through her clothes. Those shadow voices in her head had mocked her the whole time, until she wanted to scream at them to shut up.
Her nervousness had been understandable. Up until that test walk, the last time her heels had crossed the polished floors and rich carpets, she"d nearly killed Gideon and herself. This time was much less eventful. A quick ten-minute stroll, where she couldn"t remember what she"d said to anyone, and she had a seizure within minutes of returning to her apartment. She"d made herself repeat the process every day since then—every day Brian"s readings said it was okay—
until she could do a thirty-minute round of all the club areas, see and be seen, without the excessive perspiration and seizure marking the occasion. She never went over thirty minutes, though, immediately returning to her office or the underground apartment. Gideon never had to remind her of the time.
She had plenty of resentment and rebellion in her against what had been done to her, but she"d seen what could happen if she acted out. Sometimes she could still feel the blood on her hands, woke from nightmares where she was slamming Gideon against a wall, smashing his head against the steel support beam.