Midnight Rose (16 page)

Every thud of her heartbeat burst around them like a cacophony of drums, every brush of platelets and cells in her veins like the swish of satin.

Holding her wrists captive against the mattress with one hand, he slid the other down her body, over the dress wadded around her waist and across her straining hips, to the juncture of her thighs, where damp, feminine heat radiated, white-hot and demanding.

Her delicate panties shredded like paper beneath his hand.

Lost in the dark and mindless drug-induced lust, Kate couldn’t possibly see the creature taking Gideon’s place, and for a moment he gained ground over his instincts and held back.

Don’t hurt her.

Then another voice, familiar and ancient, rose from the center of his darkest heart. Take what she’s offering. Sink into her and feed from her. Fresh blood, fresh life. Take it. There is no forgiveness .

Silence fell, thick and heavy. The black spirits that hovered ever near him froze in anticipation of his next move. Holding his breath, he brushed his fingers through her soft triangle of hair to her wet, yearning flesh, parting her, a careful foray to locate the center of her need. Then with a tortured exhalation he found her, slipped a single finger inside her, just the tip. Beckoning, teasing, until she whimpered and thrust hard against his hand. Then he plunged deep, one finger, two, feeling her unfold like scalding silk to draw him in, circling quicker with his hand when her back arched away from the mattress and she cried his name.

She was so wet.

He was so hungry.

Her thighs trembled, falling wider to invite him deeper, her legs sliding restlessly against the bedspread as her exhalations slid into abandoned moans, her wrists straining against his relentless grip.

He stared down at her, at her naked, quivering stomach below the wadded dress, at her bare thighs spread wide on the mattress, at the sight of his glistening fingers sliding in and out of her body laid open for him in utter vulnerability. The blackness returned with a vengeance then, and he struggled against it, drowning in a man’s needs and the thirst of an abomination. And all the while Kate lay cradled in the purity of a woman’s passion, innocent, mercifully unknowing. Stroke upon relentless stroke brought her, trembling, to the desperate edge of orgasm, while Gideon’s own ardor fed the rising tide of ferocity.

“Oh…Gideon. Don’t stop.”

He stopped.

“Don’t…”

He sank his fingers into her again, a deep, plunging thrust into satin wetness that tore a hoarse cry from her throat. But only when he bent to her, found the hard pearl of her clitoris with his tongue and played it with rhythmic, lightning flicks did she finally cry her release.

The climax swept through her, waves that lifted and thrashed her slim body beneath him in violent shudders.

It was his pleasure, too. Gideon the man. It saturated him, suffused his disfigured soul, and for an instant he remembered forgiveness, the touch and light of righteousness. Then it was gone, hope and pleasure and redemption spiraling into nothing.

Watching Kate sink limply into the mattress, he hovered over her and forced his gaze from the pulsing, throbbing heartbeat in her neck. The soft scent of her desire filled the air, as enticing as the hot smell of blood.

“So good,” she murmured, words slurred by exhaustion and intoxication as her head fell to the side.

“Stay with me.”

But after a moment he withdrew from her, examined her face in the darkness, and found that sleep had stolen her away. He gently straightened her legs, tugged her dress down and eased the duvet over her, careful not to touch her now.

Death retreated, disappointed.

Gideon’s breath came in huge, tearing gasps as he backed away from the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. Without turning on a light, he leaned against the sink, wrapped his fingers around his own erection and stroked fast and hard.

The orgasm was as empty as it was powerful, and tore a defeated groan from his chest as he spilled himself in quaking spasms. When he could breathe again, he grappled for the spigot and shoved his hands beneath the cool flow, washing away his own semen, Kate’s scent from his skin, her ecstasy from his memory. Three handfuls of water splashed on his burning face and neck offered a modicum of control.

His fingers, shaking, refastened his fly and belt over his still throbbing penis. It hurt. His whole being ached. Banish the creature and restore its disguise .

Face dripping with water, he reached for a towel and made the mistake of glancing in the mirror.

The reflection showed his soul, as always, turned away from God, turned away in shame.

The house was silent when he stepped into the hallway and closed Kate’s door quietly behind him. He stood in the dark for a moment, drawing in deep breaths, astounded that he’d wielded such reign over his bloodthirsty instincts. For the first time in a century and a half, he’d offered a mortal woman intense pleasure and no one had died, no blood spilled. He’d given without taking. Still, the hunger was awake, and it had to be pacified.

Delilah was waiting for him in the shadows by the hunt scene when he started down the stairs. “So is she asleep?”

Gideon paused midway down the stairs and stared at her. He’d never hated her more than at that moment, but he wouldn’t lose control again. His steps slowed as he reached the landing and he stopped before her. “What did you give her?” Her lips curved into a contemptuous smile as she assessed his tousled hair and unbuttoned shirt. “A gift, from the looks of you.” “You put something in her drink?”

Delilah shrugged with practiced casualness, but the stiffness of her posture spoke of agitation. “An herb I purchased in India. I use it to keep things interesting with my male friends. And this time I did it for you, Gideon.” “You did it for yourself.” He moved toward her, the only sign of his rage the slow clenching and unclenching of his fists. “You knew that if she enticed me, I’d never be able to take her. I’d be forced to seek you instead.” “Either that or you’d just say ‘what the hell’ and have at her. She might be sweet and lovely, but her blood runs red and delicious like all the rest, Gideon. So you find her attractive. There are many more besides her, you know. You should’ve told me you wanted a human. I know adventurous girls, far more exotic and seductive, who’d—” “I could have killed her. And if I had, you’d be next.”

She laughed, a high, breathy sound. “God, it turns me on when you get like this. I know what you want right now. I know how hot you are, how much you need release. You can have it, Gideon. Everything I’ve got is yours.” He loomed over her and she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. Her neck arched, blonde hair falling back to expose the pale line of her throat.

For a long time Gideon stared at that tender, exposed flesh, at the vibrant pulse throbbing beneath it. If he didn’t feed from her, the hunger would drive him out into the countryside in search of blood still fresh and hot. He was crazy with the need for it, but he wouldn’t hunt again. Delilah held him in a treacherous place. All he had to do was sink into her, drink until the desire was gone, and peace would be restored.

And Kate would be safe.

Impassively he caught her elbow and urged her down the stairs, his grasp steely, emotions frozen.

“Where are we going?” she asked, half-stumbling as he hauled her through the dining room.

“Back to the party. I’m giving you what you asked for, and then I want all of you out.” Thrusting her before him into the billiard room, Gideon sought the faces of his visitors, who looked up from their pool game with mouths ajar. “Tell me, gentlemen. Did you come to reassure yourselves that the years haven’t changed me? Were you concerned that I’d sold out to humanity? Don’t worry. I’m still just as soulless as the rest of you.” “Prove it,” Delilah taunted.

With a snarl, he pulled her into his arms, tilted her head and sank his teeth into her jugular.

A choking gurgle rose in her throat and her hands pushed impotently at his chest, but he was possessed with a rage and hunger like he’d never known. Blood, warm and life-giving, flowed too quickly into his mouth, welling between her skin and his lips, smearing as she fought him. He couldn’t swallow fast enough, yet hatred drove him to suck the vitality from her, to drain her malevolence once and for all.

Only when Jakome rushed him from behind did Gideon’s momentum falter. He fought against the Basque’s concrete hold, but exhaustion won out and he finally let Delilah drop from his clutches like a rag doll to the rug.

“She lives,” he muttered, wiping a trembling hand across his mouth as Jakome crouched to check her pulse. “She can thank the devil you were here to stop me.” The Basque patted her ashen face until she stirred and rolled to her side with a groan. Then he stood and searched Gideon’s face for a long moment, sadness and resignation dimming the vibrancy of his gaze.

“Do you see what you came to see?” Gideon demanded.

“I see that my old friend is lost to me.” He sighed, then glanced down at the woman crawling toward Gideon’s feet. “What did you do to provoke him, Delilah? You mindless fool. Have you no pride?” Delilah wrapped a hand around Gideon’s ankle and laid her cheek against the top of his shoe. Blood still trickled from the side of her neck, seeping through the white knit fibers of her halter top. “Hate is so very close to love,” she rasped. “See how destined we are, Gideon? Do you see that we are one and the same? I love you. I always have.” “Bullshit.” A shudder of laughter moved through him and he stepped back from her weak grasp. “Why did you come here?”

Jakome folded his arms across his chest. “I think you know why.”

“To destroy my world? My son’s? To sully the peace we’ve found?” He stepped over Delilah and stalked across the rug toward Davide, who lounged in a wingback chair with a cigarette dangling between two slender fingers, watching the drama as though he held a box seat in an opera house. “Why did you come, Davide?” The blond man shrugged and brought the cigarette to his lips. Smoke rose into the air and encircled his head like an unholy halo. “Your son is the last remaining half-breed in our territory. A bridge between mortals and nightwalkers. There are five left in the world. Five . In the interest of keeping such potential tacticians from extinction, I wanted to see which side Jude favors.” “He’s my flesh and blood. He favors a normal childhood, a decent life.” Rising to her knees with a hand pressed to her wounded throat, Delilah managed a choked laugh. “You think this is a normal life for him? Imprisoned in this mammoth castle under the watchful eyes of an innocent like your insipid Ms. O’Brien? Come on, Gideon.” “We knew full well that you’d be biased in your influence on him when the time came for him to choose,” Davide said coolly. “Our purpose here is to weigh Jude’s value to our race.” He paused, tilted his head, his almond-shaped eyes narrowed like a cat’s. “We want to take him with us.” “The hell you will.” The rage coursing through Gideon was more potent than any bloodlust he’d battled with Kate’s slender body in his arms. Pulsing waves rippled up his back, his neck, twisting him into the monster the trio easily recognized.

His attention focused on Jakome, once like his brother, and now his tormentor. Delilah was right. Hate and love were indissoluble siblings. “You son of a bitch. You watch so quietly, like an innocent bystander. Are you here to steal from me, too?” “I mean you no harm. I’d never hurt you.” The Basque’s expression was a collage of regret and purpose. “Think, Gideon. If you let us take Jude for a few weeks, you’ll have him forever. As it stands, his days are numbered. How long can he live with this physical ambiguity that ravages him? And he’s in the first major growth spurt between child and man. His body can’t possibly keep up with the changes his half-breed traits are stirring. Choose this so-called ‘normal’ existence for him, and his life will end. Hand him over to us and we’ll revive him. Mold him. In a matter of months, he’ll return to you, healthy and hale.” The skin tightened over the muscles of Gideon’s face as his features deformed. “Your power here is compromised,” he said in a voice ravaged by the inhuman change. “If you try to take my son, I’ll kill you.

All of you.” Eyes burning, he smeared away tears tainted with blood. “Leave my house.”

“So you choose death for Jude.” Davide rose, stubbed out his cigarette, while Jakome went to help Delilah to her feet. “And he will die. You already know it. Your integrity, your devotion to humanity and salvation, is killing your son.” “Get out.” Gideon crossed to the double doors and kicked them open wide. As Delilah passed him, he caught her gaze. “If you touch Jude again, you’ll pay for it with your life.” A rueful smile curved her lips and she let her fingers drop from the wound on her neck, already healing.

“Thanks for the battle scar, Gid. Now I’ll have something to remember you by.” It wasn’t until the massive entry doors closed, echoing his guests’ departure through the house, that Gideon let himself sink onto a barstool. And when he felt the electricity of their life force thin and die, he buried his face in his hands and let the anguish finally take him.

So this is hell.

Kate rolled to her side and curled against the pillows, fighting down the nausea roiling in her stomach.

Thank God it was Saturday and she didn’t have lessons with Jude. All she wanted was a super-sized cola and half a bottle of aspirin.

Her second thought: I’m not wearing panties .

A rapier blade of cheerful morning sun pierced the opening in the curtains, sought her eyes and drove home.

“Oh, God…” She rolled away from it, but the damage was done. Floaters and sparkles drifted behind her aching eyelids.

How had she come to be tangled in her duvet with the sheets flattened beneath her, her dress hiked around her thighs and no underwear?

One drink. She kept hearing the resounding claim somewhere in last night’s tarnished memories. One drink from hell, apparently. Why she’d ever trusted Delilah to mix her cocktail was beyond her. She couldn’t be sure the drink had been laced, but no rum and cola had ever delivered the punch that one did.

Had Gideon carried her to her bed? Maybe he could explain how her panties had disappeared somewhere between the billiard room and her bedroom last night. God only knew what kind of fool she’d made of herself, if she’d been drunk enough to merit this excruciating hangover. Alcohol had a tendency to bring out the truth in all its bald glory, and no doubt her desire for Gideon had made an appearance to one and all.

Sitting up on the side of the bed, Kate examined the tender skin inside her thighs. No marks, no soreness in her female places. No blatant indication that anything sexual had taken place between her and Gideon. If it had, she’d missed it completely.