“Will do,” Thomas confirmed and opened the door, Eddie on his heels. With a start, Thomas pulled back and looked over his shoulder. “It appears you have a visitor.”

***

Maya let herself fall on the covers of the bed. As she turned her face, she could still smell Gabriel’s scent lingering in the pillows. How had everything suddenly gotten so complicated? Only hours ago she’d felt happy and satisfied. Now things were in uproar.

The man who’d stood in the entrance door when they’d come back from the Castro wasn’t the same man who’d held her in his arms and touched her with almost worship-like reverence. This wasn’t the Gabriel she thought she knew, not the tender, careful lover of the day before. This Gabriel was different: harsh, unyielding, powerful.

And from his exchange with Thomas, she knew he indeed did have the power he wielded so easily now. This wasn’t the man who’d kissed her tenderly and had told her he looked forward to dinner, as if he was the one feasting on her instead of the other way around. As if she could feed from him right now. She couldn’t face him right now, not after what she’d said to him only a few minutes ago.

She knew why she’d reacted so harshly to his reprimand. It was the flash of memory that had assaulted her in the bar.

Control.

The word spread in her mind again. Something about it filled her with fear. And when she’d seen Gabriel standing in the doorway, she’d seen it in his eyes: he was used to controlling those around him—maybe not because it was his nature, but because he was the boss. And at that moment, he’d scared her.

She had the strangest feeling that she’d had a similar conversation with somebody else. When she’d accused Gabriel of wanting to watch her twenty-four hours, she hadn’t really spoken to him. The words had come to her from a memory she didn’t have.

Maya shivered when her mind led her to connect the dots. The words had come from the memory the rogue had erased—words she’d spoken to the faceless monster who’d turned her. He’d wanted to control her, possess her. Instinctively, she knew that now, even if she didn’t remember it. Her memory of that time was still blank, but her body had retained sense memory. When she’d heard herself say those words to Gabriel, her body had remembered the fear she’d felt when she’d confronted the rogue with them.

She had to explain to Gabriel that she hadn’t wanted to snap at him. That this wasn’t about him but about her own fears. He would understand.

Nineteen

Gabriel set the empty glass of blood he’d poured himself onto the coffee table, then looked at Francine, who’d made herself comfortable on the couch.

The witch gave him a long look. “I’m concerned.”

Gabriel’s spine stiffened. “About?”

“I’ve had a long talk with Drake. I have some suspicions about Maya.”

“Suspicions?” He felt himself become defensive.

“Relax, vampire. When I say suspicions, I don’t infer that she’s deceiving anybody. She truly doesn’t know what’s wrong with her.”

“There’s nothing wrong with her.” In fact, he’d never met a more perfect woman.

The witch smiled knowingly. “Do you guys ever come off that testosterone rush, or are you always this jumpy?”

When he opened his mouth to retort, she merely cut him off with a move of her hand. “Luckily, I’m not the one who’ll have to deal with your ego. I’m much more interested in Maya’s condition.”

Gabriel exhaled sharply. “Why is that?”

“She’s a vampire, yet she drinks your blood and rejects that of humans. She went into heat when vampire females are known to be sterile.”

“You know an awful lot about vampires.”

She shrugged. “It’s important to know your enemies: the better to fight them. But pleasantries aside, have you considered the possibility that you giving Maya your blood has triggered her symptoms?”

Gabriel shot up from his seat. “You’re suggesting my blood is not good for her?”

“You sure are one to jump to conclusions. No. All I’m saying is that your blood could have awakened some latent genes in her. You told me yourself when we talked about your problem that your turning was just as difficult as hers. What if you have more than that in common?”

He raised an eyebrow. He’d told the witch an awful lot about his predicament that night just before Maya had collapsed. “We couldn’t be more different from each other.” She was perfect, and he was anything but. Even the witch had to know that.