“So you know what he is,” Gideon commented, as they fell in behind Daegan.

“Yes. I'm the only one, other than Miss Naime.” James's face was hard and closed, not encouraging conversation. Gideon knew the security chief wouldn't have been the one who leaked Daegan's presence at the club to Barnabus. Though the staff might have no knowledge of what Daegan was, they were familiar with seeing him. Was that how Barnabus had tracked him here? And what business between them had led to this?

Living on the fringes of their existence, Gideon knew that vampire society was brutal. Hell, the main reason the Vampire Council had been formed was to impose rules that would keep bloodshed, both their own and human, to acceptable limits—by vampire standards. Even the goal of those rules was not more peaceful, crunchy-granola vampires, but to hide the truth of their existence from human scrutiny.

It pissed him off anew. Daegan had brought her into contact with his world, and hadn't even imposed the protection of his marks upon her? She'd clearly stated no vampire had a claim on her. So what the hellwas their relationship?

The business office area was deserted, as James had said, and they reached the elevator in a matter of a few strides. It appeared like a simple service elevator, but there was a security keypad. When James stepped aside so Daegan could shift his precious burden and enter the code, Gideon realized Anwyn allowed no one, even her security chief, access to her rooms. Only Daegan.

Daegan's gaze swept over them, but before he could do what Gideon anticipated, he stepped into the elevator ahead of the vampire, held the door open and gave him a pointed look.Not getting rid of me that easy, bastard . He had no problem taking advantage of the fact that Daegan wouldn't want to prolong their time at this level with an argument, in case another staff member appeared.

Daegan glanced at James and tilted his head, and the security chief stepped on with them, pressing the proper button. They all stared forward, and Gideon thanked whatever gods might listen that there was no elevator music. It would have been unbearable.

However, as short a trip as it was, he realized he wouldn't have minded something that would cushion the sound of Anwyn's ragged breath, evidence of her pain and distress. Her fingers were curled into Daegan's shirt, white-knuckled and tight. She kept her face hidden against his chest. The smell of blood and vomit, the dregs of human suffering, quickly became apparent.

When the doors opened, they revealed a spacious sitting room with shelves of books and a gas log fireplace. Wide hallways leading from it showed snatches of a bedroom, a study with desk and computer, and a small TV and reading room. There was a kitchen over to the right, with a wide pass-through and bar area. No obvious alternative exits, but Gideon assumed she had to have a fire stairwell somewhere, probably with the same passkey protection.

Daegan was speaking to the security chief. “Transition times can vary. Start with a couple weeks. Come up with the proper explanations to cover her absence for that time period, and I'll keep you informed about her progress. Hopefully, in a few days, she'll be able to do so herself.”

Gideon's attention sharpened. He'd assisted his brother's transition with the help of Lord Mason, a vampire almost as old as Lyssa. Mason had said that transitions were pretty much all the same. There were several months of learning to control bloodlust, which was the vampire equivalent of raging hormones in a teen on Viagra, but with the sire's blood, it was manageable. In a normal transition, she would likely be able to check on her staff and appear relatively normal for monitored excursions—very brief ones—within a short time period.

But this hadn't been normal, had it? And they still didn't have the sire's blood. Jacob had needed a drop of Lyssa's blood each day, but that was because of her age and strength. If this vamp was young, she'd need more than that. Fast.

“If I have need of you, I will call,” Daegan continued. He shifted his gaze to Gideon. “You can show Mr.

Green to the door on your way up.”

“Not unless he's dragging my dead body there.”

Gideon met the vampire stare for stare, making sure his own was as badass. Of course, without the element of surprise, he was outmatched in speed and strength, so he added logic to his defense. “You're going to need help. You said the sire's blood is needed. I can help you with that. I can help you watch over her, because you're going to have to sleep during daylight hours, and James is going to have to keep things running up there.”

“She is becoming what you kill, vampire hunter. Forgive me if I will take my chances.”

“She didn't ask for this. She's a victim,” Gideon retorted. “I'm not going to stake her for something she couldn't help.”

“Not right away, at least.” The caustic tone and Daegan's forbidding countenance were a clear fuck-off, a threat he was obviously prepared to back up, but a ragged whisper intervened. “Both.” Daegan shifted his attention to the woman in his arms. Giving Gideon a warning look, he brought her to the couch. When he took a knee beside her, retaining one of her hands, Gideon slid behind the couch to flank her other side. The flicker of Daegan's lashes told him he was tracking his movements, but the vampire kept his dark eyes on her face. James had moved in a couple steps as well, his attention also trained on Gideon, reinforcing Daegan's flank.

“What,cher ?”

Her free hand lifted, but instead of moving toward Daegan, it floundered upward, toward the back of the couch. Catching it, Gideon leaned over so she could see him.

Her eyes were glazed with pain, but Gideon saw cognizance. Of course, with orientation would come the stabbing pain of memory. He never wanted her to relive what had happened to her tonight. With a gut-punch feeling, he recalled the brief shadow of fear, an unwelcome memory intruding into her blue-green eyes when he'd loomed over her in the Queen's Chamber bathing area. Tonight was not the first night she'd been treated like this.

God, he was so sick of this fucking awful world.

“I want you both. Daegan . . . let him stay.”

Daegan's attention slid over their clasped hands, rose to Gideon's face. “Then he stays.” Just like that. It startled Gideon, that the vampire didn't try to talk her out of it or seem put out by her plea. In fact, his tone made it clear that, since it was what Anwyn wanted, it was no longer Gideon's choice. Just like a vamp. Of course, not too long ago, he would have said a vampire had no feelings for a human, beyond the enthusiasm a kid might display at having an always-accessible Happy Meal. But that was before Lady Lyssa sacrificed almost everything to save his brother's life. It hadn't changed Gideon's feelings toward vampires as a whole—what had been done to Anwyn was more often the rule—but it did make him warily willing to acknowledge this vampire might have some strong feelings when it came to Anwyn's well-being and wishes.

It also didn't change the fact that he was still a bloodsucking monster, and somebody with whom Anwyn never should have gotten mixed up. Obviously.

Her point made, Anwyn drew her hands away from them both, shifting to burrow against the couch back. Her body curled into a ball, her eyes closing.

Daegan's dark gaze lifted back to Gideon and hardened. With a quick jerk of the head, he rose and drew Gideon and James to the corner of the room. “You stay at my discretion,” the vampire said low.

“Do not piss me off.”

Gideon decided now was not the time to mention he had a pretty much unbroken record for doing just that, with everyone whose path he crossed. “I helped my brother through his transition,” he said instead.

“Jacob Green, Lady Lyssa's servant.” At Daegan's lack of response, Gideon snorted. “But you already knew that, didn't you?”

“I know many things about you, vampire hunter. Which is why I have my doubts about having you near her.”

Before Gideon could retort to that, Daegan continued. “However, whatever happened between the two of you tonight made an impression. On her, at least. I expect you will be begging to leave within twenty-four hours.”

“Don't count on it,” Gideon said flatly.

He meant it. He knew he'd stick. Still, as Daegan sent James on his way with further instructions, Gideon knew there were also going to be plenty of times in the next few hours he was going towish he could leave. Enduring his own pain was one thing. Enduring hers was going to be hell.

8

AFTER James left, Daegan returned to Anwyn's side, brushed her cheek with his fingers. She didn't open her eyes, staying curled into the sofa, but Gideon could tell as well as the vampire that she was conscious. “Let's go into the bathroom,cher ,” Daegan said. “Get you a bath and into some fresh clothes.”

“Is there a woman who might . . . one of the other Dommes?” Gideon suggested quietly.

Daegan shook his head. “As he told you, only James knows about the existence of vampires. It is safer for it to stay that way. I will take care of her.”

Too little, too late,Gideon thought nastily, but quelled it. Not the time, and he was just venting his own frustrated guilt. “If the transition is happening, why isn't she healing faster?” He nodded at the bruises on her face, the torn flesh on her upper body. It was no longer bleeding, but the flesh was still ragged, ugly.

Jacob had sustained a couple wounds right after his transition, but they'd healed within minutes.

“If a transition is . . . particularly traumatic, sometimes it slows a fledgling's healing energy. She needs her sire's blood.” Daegan's jaw flexed.

The brief flicker of his glance brought that hint of hellfire again, as if within his body was the doorway to the eternal flames. Gideon had faced some scary vampires, but the cauldron of violence that flared in this guy's face with those mere five words would send them scurrying back to their teeter-totters and monkey bars.

He knew it was nearly dawn, which might hamper Daegan, but Gideon had no problem heading out to get the bastards now. He could pick up the trail from the alley. The vampire anticipated him with a short negative movement of his head, another sharp warning. “Her first,” he mouthed.