by Lara Adrian
“You’re not acting like she’s just a kid. You’re acting like you’re responsible for this female. Like you’ve already got more than a passing interest.”
Christ, did he? Gideon wanted to refute the accusation, but the words sat like cold lead in the back of his throat.
He hadn’t intended to feel anything for Savannah. He sure as hell didn’t expect to feel the sudden, violent spike of possessiveness over her at the mere idea of walking away now, leaving her safety and wellbeing in the care of the Breed’s civilian arm.
Nor could he ever have imagined the day when he’d be standing off against Lucan Thorne over any direct command, let alone a command that Gideon knew in his gut was the right call for Lucan to make. For Savannah’s sake, if nothing else.
Lucan fixed Gideon with a grim stare. “She’s out there right now, walking around with the word vampire on the tip of her tongue. How many people do you think she’ll tell before we have the chance to contain her? She told you, for crissake. What if she tells the police next?”
“She won’t,” Gideon said, wishing he believed it. “I told her I would help her sort everything out. I told her she could trust me.”
“Trust you? She just met you,” Lucan pointed out. “She’s got friends she could tell this tale to, classmates. Family?”
Gideon nodded. “A sister in Louisiana. I don’t know about anyone else. But I can find out. I can take care of any loose threads. I want to be the one to explain everything to Savannah. After last night, I owe her that.”
Lucan grunted, his expression stony, unconvinced.
Gideon pressed on. “I want to know what the sword that was used to slay my brothers is doing here in Boston. I want to know who has it, and why. I should think the Order would like that answer too, seeing how the son of a bitch in question murdered one human to get it and left another near death.”
“We can’t leave her out there on her own, Gid. Her knowledge is a threat to the entire Breed nation. It’s also a threat to her, if the one who killed her roommate somehow learns there was a witness and turns his sights on Savannah.”
Gideon’s veins turned to ice at the thought. He would eviscerate any Breed male who so much as touched her with intent to harm. “I’m not about to let anyone hurt her. She needs to be protected.”
“Agreed,” Lucan said. “But that means day and night, something we can’t enforce so long as she’s living among the human population. And we sure as hell aren’t bringing a civilian female here to the compound.” Lucan stared, a tendon ticking in his square jaw. “You want to initiate her about the Breed and our world, fine. I’ll give you that. You want to see if her talent can help us ID the bastard who attacked those humans the other night, that’s yours too.”
Gideon nodded, grateful for the chance and more relieved than he should have been at the prospect of Savannah being entrusted to his care.
Lucan cleared his throat pointedly. “You bring her up to speed. You question her. But you’ll do all of this inside the secured shelter of a local Darkhaven. It’s the best place for her right now, Gideon. You know that.”
He did. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.
And he didn’t like it.
At the moment, he didn’t see any better options.
“I’ll make some calls,” Lucan said. “This plan goes into motion tonight.”
Gideon remained standing, his molars clamped together, fists curled at his sides as the Order’s leader left the room. Tegan got up from his chair a moment later. He prowled toward Gideon, studying him with those unreadable eyes. He held something in his hand--a folded piece of paper, torn from the notebook that lay on the table alongside the pen he’d been toying with during the impromptu meeting.
“What’s this?” Gideon said as the big Gen One offered the square of note paper to him.
Tegan didn’t answer.
He strode out of the war room and headed down the corridor without a word.
~ ~ ~
The university campus was crowded with students that next day at noontime, people seated in small groups under tall, leafy oaks, eating packed lunches, others playing sports on the broad, green lawns. It seemed practically everyone was taking advantage of a sunny and warm October day. A pretty snapshot of a world that seemed so innocent. So...normal.
Savannah strolled past her chattering, laughing, carefree classmates, her steps hurried on the concrete sidewalk, her arms wrapped tightly around her book bag.
She had just left a meeting with her academic advisor, who’d given her clearance for a short leave of absence from her classes. She was going home soon, leaving in several hours. Although she’d told the advisor she expected to return to class in a couple of weeks, after she dealt with some “personal issues,” Savannah wasn’t sure there was enough time in the world to come to terms with everything she’d seen over the past few days.
She still wondered if she were somehow losing her mind. Gideon hadn’t seemed to think so last night. It had been incredibly sweet of him to check in on her, concerned that she had called in sick from work. His comfort, although totally uninvited and unexpected, had been just what she needed.
His kiss hadn’t been half bad either. More like, incredible. She hadn’t been prepared for how good it felt to be in his arms, her mouth under his control. If she concentrated, she could still feel the heat of his lips on hers. And her body remembered too, every nerve ending going tingly and warm at just the thought of being wrapped up in him.
If Gideon were a lesser man, he might have used her shaky emotional state to his advantage last night and tried to get into her pants. God knew, after the kiss they shared, she likely wouldn’t have needed much convincing to let him take things further.
She had actually dreamt he stayed with her most of the night. But there was no sign of him when she woke up alone this morning in her bed, still dressed in her tank top and jeans.
Would she see him again?
Probably not very likely. She had no idea how to reach him. No idea where he lived, or what he did for a living. She didn’t even know his full name. Somehow, since their first chance meeting, he had managed to avoid revealing her a single thing of significance about himself, other than the facts that he was obviously well-read and well-educated.
Not to mention endlessly patient and understanding when it came to hysterical women going off about woo-woo ESP abilities and supernatural creatures that couldn’t possibly exist outside slasher films and horror novels.
Gideon had been more than patient or understanding, in fact. He’d been a source of calm for her, more supportive than she ever could have hoped. Some part of her believed him when he said he could help her figure everything out. That he wanted to help her make sense of what she’d told him, even though inwardly he had to suspect she was more than a little touched.
There was a part of her that believed Gideon to be capable of anything he said, anything he promised. He simply projected that air of total, unswerving command. He filled any room he was in, radiated an indefinable power. His intelligent blue eyes told anyone who looked in them that he possessed the wit and experience of a man twice his age.
Just how old was he, anyway?
Savannah had mentally placed him around thirty, but she couldn’t be certain. He never did answer when she asked him his age that first night in the library. He seemed too worldly, too wise somehow, to be older than her by just a decade-plus. He had to be much older than she had assumed, yet his face had no lines, no scars or blemishes to betray his years.
And his body...it felt built of solid muscle and strong, unbreakable bone. Ageless, like so much else about him.
And now that she was thinking about it, there was something distantly, oddly familiar about Gideon too. She looked at him and felt a niggling of her senses, as if they’d met somewhere before, impossible though it was.
Despite the enthusiasm of her instincts--or other parts of her anatomy--she was positive the first time she’d ever met Gideon wa
s two nights ago in the Abbey Room of the Boston Public Library. Until two nights ago, he’d been a stranger to her. A stranger who didn’t deserve to have her problems, real or imagined, dumped on him.
Which is why, when Amelie called early that morning to tell Savannah she’d purchased a bus ticket home for her and had it waiting at the station for her later that evening, Savannah had agreed it was probably best for her to return to Louisiana for a while.
She had one more appointment to take care of on campus, then she would be going back to her apartment to finish packing. She wished there was a way for her to see Gideon before she left, say goodbye at least. But short of camping out at the library in the hopes that he might show up there again this afternoon, she had no means of locating him before she had to leave for the bus station tonight.
Maybe Mrs. Kennefick knew more about him? She’d worked in the library records room all her adult life; if Gideon was a patron, maybe Mrs. Kennefick could give Savannah his full name or address. It was a place to start, anyway. Savannah could call and ask as soon as she wrapped up at the English department.
The thought put such a current of hope through her veins, Savannah hardly noticed the white Firebird rolling up behind her at a slow crawl on the street parallel to her on the sidewalk. The passenger side window was rolled down, disco music sifting out from the car.
Annoyed, Savannah glanced over, squinting in the sunlight as the driver reduced his speed even more to keep pace with her.
He was the last person she expected to see today. “Professor Keaton?”
“Savannah. How are you?”
“Me?” she asked, incredulous. He braked to a stop and leaned across the seats as she bent and peered to have a closer look at him. “I’m okay, but what about you? What are you doing out of the hospital? I heard you weren’t expected to be released for a week or more.”
“Been out for the past hour. Thank God for the miracle of modern medicine.” His smile seemed weak, not quite reaching his eyes. He appeared pale and wan, his tanned skin kind of waxy against the dark color of his moustache and heavy brows. He looked haggard and exhausted, like a clubber coming off a rough weekend bender.
And no wonder--two nights ago the man had been hauled away unconscious to the ICU. Now he was behind the wheel of his muscle car with Barry White crooning through the speakers. She walked toward the car and leaned down to talk to him through the passenger window. “Are you sure you should be driving this soon? You were almost killed the other night, Professor Keaton. It just seems like after everything you’ve been through...”
He watched her fumble , his expression sober now. “I shouldn’t be here at all, is that what you mean, Savannah? I shouldn’t be alive when your friend is dead.”
“No.” She shook her head, embarrassed that he misunderstood her clumsy choice of words. “I didn’t mean that. I would never think that.”
“I tried to protect her. I tried to save her, Savannah.” He heaved out a deep sigh. “There was nothing I could do. I hope you believe me. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Of course,” she murmured. “I’m sure you did everything you could. No one could blame you for what happened to Rachel.”
As she spoke to reassure him, she couldn’t keep the image of the monster’s face from forming in her mind’s eye. The horrible fangs. The fiery coals that were its eyes. Her skin went cold at the memory, sending a bone-deep shudder racing up her spine.
And yet Keaton seemed strangely unaffected. He seemed somehow removed from the terror of what he’d endured that night. Calmly accepting of the miracle of his survival following an attack by something inhuman, hellish. Either he truly didn’t know the depth of the horror he endured, or he was hiding it from her.
Unless it was Savannah’s gift that couldn’t be trusted. It had never been fully in her control, but maybe it was becoming unreliable. Maybe she wasn’t going crazy after all. Maybe she was simply losing her grasp of the ability she’d tried for so long to keep a secret from the rest of the world.
“I can’t imagine how awful the experience must’ve been for you, Professor Keaton. You and Rachel both.” She looked at him closely, searching for any cracks in his demeanor. “When you were trying to save her life, were you able to get a look at the attacker?”
“Yes,” he replied, not so much as blinking. “I got a brief look, just before I was knocked unconscious.”
Savannah’s breath froze in her lungs. “Have you told anyone?”
“Of course. I told the police this morning, when they came to see me in the hospital as I was being discharged.”
Savannah swallowed, not at all certain she wanted to hear her terror voiced by another person. “What did you tell them, Professor Keaton?”
“I told them what I saw. A vagrant who likely wandered in off the street, looking for something of value to pawn for his drug money. Rachel and I surprised him, and he attacked us like a wild animal.”
Savannah listened, unable to speak for a moment. It didn’t make sense. Not that what she saw in the glimpse from Rachel’s bracelet made more sense, but she could tell Keaton was lying. “Are you sure about that? You’re sure it was a vagrant, not...someone else?”
Keaton laughed then, a short bark of humor. He turned the radio off abruptly, his movements too quick. “Am I sure? I was the only one there to see what happened. Of course, I’m sure. What’s this all about, Savannah? What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “I’m just trying to understand what happened.”
“I told you.” He leaned farther across the cockpit of the Firebird, reaching for the door handle on the passenger side. “Where are you heading, anyway?”
“English Department,” she replied woodenly, an inexplicable sense of unease spreading through her. “I have to meet with my professor about taking some coursework home with me on my leave of absence.”
“You’re leaving school?” He sounded surprised, but his face remained oddly unchanged, blank and unreadable. “Is it because of what happened?”
“I just need to go.” She backed away from the door, careful to keep her steps subtle and her voice light as she hurried to formulate a protective lie. “There are some problems at home right now, and my family needs me there.”
“I see.” Keaton nodded. “I’m sure you’ve heard that Rachel’s funeral is in Brookline later this week. I know you’re all alone in Boston, so if you’d like, I could take you--”
“No, thank you.” She had heard about the service, of course, and had already given her condolences and regrets to Rachel’s mother when the distraught woman called to let her know the date and time of the gathering. “I’m leaving tonight for Louisiana. I‘ve already got my bus ticket reserved and waiting for me.”
“So soon,” he remarked. “Well, then, at least let me give you a ride over to the English Department now. We can talk some more about all of this on the way.”
Savannah’s unease around him deepened. There was no way in hell she was getting near him the way he was acting. “I’m late as it is. It’ll be faster if I cut across campus on foot.” She forced a casual smile. “But thanks for offering, Professor Keaton. I really gotta go now.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, then turned the radio on again. “See you around, Savannah.”
She gave him a bright nod as she retreated backward to the safety of the sidewalk and the hundreds of students still milling around on their lunch break. Savannah watched as Keaton drove away.
When he was out of sight, his white car disappearing around a corner onto another part of campus, she let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Then she pivoted in the opposite direction and ran like the devil was on her heels.
Chapter 9
Savannah sat on the edge of her hardside suitcase at the South Station terminal, her right knee bouncing with nervous energy. Her bus was late. She’d gone to the station a couple hours ahead of time that evening, eager to be on her way back home. Des
perate, even.
Her troubling encounter with Professor Keaton had her rattled enough on top of everything else, but it was her phone call to the library after she’d gotten home to her apartment that had really compounded Savannah’s state of confusion and mounting unease.
Mrs. Kennefick hadn’t been able to help Savannah locate Gideon. Oh, she recalled the big blond man in black leather who’d come around the other night inquiring after Savannah.
“Hard not to notice a man like him,” she’d said, understatement of the year. “He’s not exactly the library’s typical clientele.”
No, there was nothing typical about Gideon at all. Except the fact that he was male, and apparently adept at lying to a woman’s face. Because when she’d asked Mrs. Kennefick if she’d told Gideon where Savannah lived, the older woman had balked at the very idea.
“No, of course not, dear. One can never be too careful these days, sad to say. But he did tell me he was a friend of yours. I hope I didn’t overstep when I informed him you’d called in sick.”
Savannah had reassured her kindly old supervisor that she’d done nothing wrong, but inwardly she was awash in doubt about everything. Now she had to put Gideon in that number too. If Mrs. Kennefick hadn’t sent him to Savannah’s apartment, how had he found her? And why did he let her think he’d come across her address through honest means?
Nothing was making sense to her anymore. She couldn’t help feeling suspicious of everything and everyone, as if her entire world was veering off the path of reality.
She needed a good dose of home to set her right, put her life back together. Help her put everything in its proper place again. She was eager for Amelie’s good cooking, and her warm, soft shoulder to lean on.
If only the damn bus would get here.
Twenty minutes delayed now. Night had recently fallen outside the station. Evening rush hour commuters filled the place, hurrying to their trains and buses as exhaust fumes belched in through open doorways and garbled public address announcements squawked virtually unintelligibly from the ceiling speakers overhead.
