Daegan had told her not many vampires actually knew Gideon Green's face, only his reputation, but it might be a matter of minutes before he changed that.
“Mr. Smith.” With additional effort, she kept her tone pleasant, professional. “I'm so glad you stopped in before you left. There's some paperwork I need you to look over. Mr. Barnabus, if we're finished . .
.” She raised a brow, and looked back at the vampire, hoping her expression was suitably neutral and unassuming.
His lip curled, revealing a flash of prominent fang. “Not finished, Miss Naime. But done for now.” She had the disturbing feeling he was laughing at her, in the nasty way a cat laughed at a mouse for thinking it had escaped, when the cat knew exactly where the mouse's nest was and would be waiting there later.
“If you happen to meet ‘someone' named Daegan Rei, you tell him that he takes one of mine, I'll make one of his. He'll understand.”
Fortunately, there were two openings to the room. The vampires took the other one back toward the lobby, so they didn't have to come anywhere near Gideon, though the other two vampires kept their gazes locked with the vampire hunter's until they turned and followed Barnabus. Gideon, however, didn't take his eyes off of them until they disappeared around the corner.
“Thank you for not interfering.” Anwyn spoke after a still moment, realizing they'd both remained silent, waiting until they heard Jack, the doorman, obliviously bid the vampires good night. She touched the earpiece. “We're clear, James. They're gone. I'm with a client now, but will come to the security office shortly.”
Gideon's hand moved from her hip to her arm, turning her toward him. Anwyn drew in a breath at the feel of his heated palm. “I didn't give you permission to touch me, Gideon.”
“I thought we pretty much agreed playtime was over,” he returned, his gaze shuttered. “Who is Daegan Rei, Anwyn? I've never heard of him.”
“You found out my name.”
“I listen. That's how I found out you might be in a tight spot. Heard your security chief telling a couple of your guys to be ready if Anwyn needed help dealing with a Code Seven. Which I assume means unruly guests, rather than specifically vampires. Answer my question.” Her chin came up. “I believe we already covered that. You haven't earned the right to question me. I'm also sure you heard me say there's no guest here by that name.”
“I saw the marks. You've got a vamp claim on you, whatever you want to call it.”
“Keep your voice down.”
He stepped closer, so the heat between the two of them caressed her face, made her press her lips together in irritating need for what they'd left unfinished. She could have helped him to surrender, given him so much of what he needed. But sometimes a toy was too broken to be fixed, right?
“Do you really know what you're doing, Anwyn?” The true concern in his gaze leaned on her already thin defenses. He was used to protecting, took it seriously. Seriously enough that it may have destroyed his potential to give any part of his heart to another, as she'd clearly seen tonight. “You can't be friends with one of them. Their whole world comes with them. Trash like what just left. Does your vampire understand that?”
“You don't have the right—”
“Don't play Mistress with me. This is your life—”
“Nothing about what I do here is play,” she shot back, low. “Now, get out. I may not have the manpower to throw those three out bodily, but I think James and his crew can handle you. And remember”—she tossed her hair back—“I'm merely some vampire's bitch in heat.” His jaw tightened. “I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry.”
“No, you're not.” Her nerves, stretched thin by that near miss, by the personal truths his observations had touched, snapped. “You couldn't have been more repulsed if you'd seen open weeping sores on my leg. So don't pretend like you care. This is about you wanting the whole world to see things your way.
Black and white. Vampires are evil, and should all be dead. Well, I can tell you something. I've seen evil up close, and it didn't have a whiff of vampire to it when it took what it wanted. It's not the physical form that makes something evil.
“And one more thing.” She forged on when he opened his mouth. “Nothing outside of you destroys who you are, what you want to be. If you're strong enough, you can put it back together, no matter who or what shatters you. From everything I've seen, you're strong as hell. So when you look in a mirror, stop blaming vampires for the wreck you've made of yourself. There was no vampire in that room tonight.
Whatever did or didn't happen there was your fault, and your fault only.” She stopped herself, appalled at her outburst. She prided herself on her calm, her reserve, and here she was, snarling at him with almost as little control as he'd demonstrated earlier. His expression was nearly bloodless.
“Anwyn—”
“No. We're done here, Gideon. For the last time, get out.” When he lifted a hand, she stepped back.
“Don't try to touch me.”
If he did, she was afraid the many things roiling through her now would detonate. She should have had two brandies. What she hated most of all was that she wished Daegan were here. She wished there were someone in the world she could rely upon and trust, no matter what. It was an old longing, and a dangerous one. She shoved it aside.
“Anwyn.” Ignoring her demand, he settled his hands on her shoulders, those long arms easily reaching over the distance she'd put between them. His hands were strong and sure. Reassuring. Gideon's gaze was steady, not seeking anything from her, but offering something of himself.
“I'll go, I promise. But are you sure you're okay?”
Damn it, damn it.Goddess save her from alpha males, and their irritating habit of switching from emotionally closed, dysfunctional pains in the ass to knights in shining armor in a heartbeat, sweeping a woman's legs right out from under her.
She drew a deep breath. With deliberate intent, she closed one hand over his wrist, knowing that while she was doing it to appear composed, she was using the contact to actually reclaim some composure.
“Thank you, Gideon. Yes, I am. I shouldn't have spoken to you that way.” His lip curved at the corner, a wry self-deprecation that surprised her. “You weren't all wrong. Doesn't mean I enjoy hearing it.”
She shook her head. “I meant saying you don't care. I know right and wrong matter to you. Protecting those who can't protect themselves. But I can protect myself. You don't need to worry about me.” He brushed a hand across her cheek. “Too late.” Then he hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets, as if irritated with himself. “I won't come back here. Not to the club. But . . . if you find you'd like a cup of coffee or something tomorrow . . . You do have a life outside here, right?”
“As much as you have a life outside of what you do. It doesn't often go well when I try.”
“Well, we've already established I'm a train wreck, so what do you have to lose from visiting the crash site and having a latte at the same time?” He sighed, his hands curling as if he needed the restraint to keep from touching her. “I'm rough, and I fuck up everything, Anwyn. But I don't dress things up, and I don't play games. When I figure something out, I say it pretty plain. I shouldn't want anything more to do with you. You're right about the way I felt, when I saw that mark. The way I feel about them.” He shook his head, a quick jerk, when she stiffened. “But the other things that happened between us . . . I'm no good for any woman, and I fully expect you to tell me to fuck off, but I'll only be here a little longer. No matter how stupid it sounds, how little sense it makes to either one of us, I want the chance to see you again.” The residual heat of their battle became a different kind of warmth as he stumbled over the words. But then, she'd known it was a smoke screen all along. “That is a terrible apology,” she observed after a long silence. “Probably the worst I've ever heard. You're not really sorry about the way you acted, but you want to see me again.”
“Well, me and Don Juan, we don't hang out as much as we used to.” Reaching out, she touched his face. A long time ago, she'd learned to live in the moment, just as she'd told James. Just because they'd had a pretty bad moment, it didn't mean this moment couldn't be better.
She had to proceed cautiously, though. It had been a far too interesting night, and while she believed in seizing opportunities, she was careful about her grip. And he was correct. Just because he couldn't shake the inexplicable connection he felt to her, nothing had changed in his opinion of vampires or those who associated with them. Wanting to be with someone who represented what a man despised usually led to more self-hatred. Gideon was already carrying around a world's worth of that, enough to bring down everyone in his proximity if his rage and frustration with it got out of hand.
The problem was, she couldn't shake that lingering sense of connection, either.
Gideon's hand closed over her wrist, a gentle but firm touch, his thumb sliding up her pulse as he turned his head, pressed a kiss into her palm. He held that position as she stroked her other hand through his damp hair, down to rest on the juncture of his throat and shoulder. “All right,” she said quietly. “Let me think about it. Check back at the desk tomorrow night. If I decide to meet you, I'll leave a message there. But I'll set the time and place, and you may want to work a little harder on that apology in the interim.”
“I can't apologize for my beliefs, Anwyn.” His jaw set, lips pressing together. “I won't lie about that just to see you again. I can't be any less than what I am.”
“Can you be more?” Before he could respond to that, she added, “You should never lie to me at all. But I can tell you, Gideon, as repulsed as you are by what I may or may not be, there's a part of you burning to understand it. Maybe that's as much why you want to see me again as anything else.”