Vampire Mistress

“If you understood anything about true submission, Gideon Green, you would know that this is the furthest possible thing from that. You also would not be lying to yourself.” His voice softened further, the dangerous growl of a lion. “Your ignorance has saved you this time. Don't speak of it again.” Gideon had a few choice words on that score, but he held them. Surprisingly, Anwyn was back in the doorway. She'd chosen one of Daegan's black T-shirts, the hem falling well past midthigh, the wider neck showing an expanse of delicate collarbone and slim neck. Jewelry was gone and even makeup. She must have been testing her vampire speed, for she'd been gone only minutes.



She didn't speak, her face pale, her lips pressed hard together. She'd tightened the wrap on her hair, added pins so it gave her face an even more strained look. Gideon was moving toward her before he even thought about it. She was barefoot, and he remembered how the stilettos had put her within a few inches of his height, rather than letting him tower over her. While it should have felt awkward, dropping to one knee before her didn't. He took her hand, looking up at her conflicted expression.



“I like this look better,” he said. Though he knew she might not appreciate his meaning, he hoped she did. It took guts to let vulnerability show as she faced her deepest fears. Even more guts than putting on the façade.



Her fingers tightened on his, and her lips curved, a humorless smile. Then her gaze shifted up to Daegan.



“The dungeon?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly.



At his nod, she tightened her jaw. Sweeping her glance over them both, she moved away from them, toward that hallway. With a look toward Gideon, Daegan moved after her. It felt as though they were escorting a queen to the gallows.



11



THE chains in the wall were like those she'd used on him last night. They'd been bolted and run through a St. Andrew's cross, which in turn was permanently embedded into the concrete wall. On top of that, the cross was inside a cell that could be securely locked. Gideon didn't really want to think about what kind of person would want to be cagedand bound. Or the men Anwyn had tormented in her private apartments. However, there was no denying the cell would come in handy now.



While they'd been waiting on her earlier, they'd moved in a small love seat and some bedding, a few of her books and a side table, so she could find comfort when needed. Daegan had adjusted the chains to give her free movement to these things, but shown Gideon where the controls on the outside of the cell could be used to draw up the slack. With the touch of a button, the manacled person would be yanked back to the cross, with no freedom of movement at all. Fortunately, there was a dial to control the rate of retraction, so it wouldn't have to be so violent except in an emergency.



“Bring her back to this wall every time you enter her cell,” Daegan had said, “no matter how lucid she seems. She can change in a blink, and you will be dead. She'll wrap the chains around your neck, break it, and then feed on you to her heart's content. I'll find a drained husk on the floor.” Looking at Anwyn's delicate limbs, the curve of her back and set of her shoulders, made Gideon feel even more averse to putting those heavy, ugly things on her than she was. And she was pretty much against the whole thing already.



She did well, though, until she actually saw where they intended to put her. Then her steps slowed.



Daegan slid a hand under her elbow. “Let's go,cher . It will be all right.” She shook her head, but made it a couple more steps. Then all hell broke loose.



She tried to break free, a snarl of protest tearing from her throat. Daegan didn't waste time on any preliminaries. He seized her about the waist and throat, holding her against his taller body as he carried her into the cell. Her knuckles hit the bars of the doorframe with what normally would have been a bone-breaking thud. Grabbing onto them, she tried to get her foot and ankle hooked as well. She was shrieking, kicking. What made it worse was there was no trace of red in her gaze. Anwyn, not her vampire self, was fighting them with everything she was, fighting like a wild, panicked animal at the threat of being bound and caged.



“No, Daegan, don't. Stop it.” Her screaming protests were agonized.



“Gideon,” Daegan snapped. “Free her hands so I don't break her fingers.” Trying to silence his ears to her wails, Gideon grimly moved in, prying her fingers loose while she shouted terrible things at him. They were no better than the ones who'd fucked her in the alley. Held her down and bit her, gagging her with her own torn and blood-soaked underwear to keep her from crying for help. Men were all beasts who only wanted to hurt women, beasts who deserved Hell.



Since Daegan couldn't see as well with her limbs thrashing before his line of sight, once he had her fingers free, Gideon put pressure on his back. Guiding the vampire, he turned him so her foot and ankle slid free of the bars as well and he could move into the cell without further encumbrance.



Though kicks and punches flew, they got her into the manacles. Anwyn wasn't a trained fighter, but her bursts of vampire strength gave her the ability to hit with the force of a wildly swinging baseball bat. If he could have bruised, Daegan would likely show as many dark smudges as Gideon himself was going to have in short order.



He'd handle twice as many blows if he could block out the tears running down her face, her struggles. It was the things she said that weren't anger that tore into his gut the worst.



“Please, don't. Not again. Don't hurt me. I can't stand this . . . Please don't do this to me . . .” Then he heard Daegan's warning shout, saw the lunge in the corner of his eye. Gideon wasn't quick enough. She'd broken free of Daegan's attempt to manacle her left hand and the right one wasn't yet retracted. There was enough chain to let her leap forward and land on top of Gideon, knocking him face forward into the floor. Her fangs sank into the back of his neck, perilously close to his spine, her arms locked hard around his throat. Daegan wouldn't be able to free her without breaking his neck.



Gideon's skills as a fighter, and her lack of them, saved him. Reacting as he would to any vampire attack, Gideon flipped them. Yanking the knife out of his belt, he jammed it into the soft tissue beneath him as his vision blackened.



Her grip loosened and he rolled free. Daegan hit the control and the chains retracted into the wall, yanking her up and back, holding her fast. He seized her other wrist and, despite her cry of pain, forced it back into the other cuff and locked it down. He did both of her ankles as well.



In that brief blink of time, Gideon had made it to his feet. He whirled, rage taking over. Ten years' worth of life-and-death struggles with vampires determined to kill him, torment him, mock his pain with their laughter, their fucking self-righteousness about their strength and superiority, obliterated his rational awareness of her plight. Sheer, harsh survival instinct took over.



“Vampire hunter.” Daegan's voice was soft, but resonated with that unmistakable command that captured attention, no matter how resistant or reluctant.



Coming to himself, Gideon realized he was standing with the point of his fist pressed into the tender flesh of Anwyn's breast, his thumb within a hairbreadth of the trigger that would send a wooden arrow spearing into her heart. He still held his knife in the other fist, and it was running with blood. Blood that matched what was leaking out of her side beneath her rib cage.



Her fangs embedded in his neck, her hot breath, had become the fangs and hot breath of so many others, their bloodlust trying to overpower him, take from him as they always took from him . . .



“Oh Christ.” He stumbled back, registered that Anwyn was breathing hard, his blood staining her mouth.



The T-shirt had gotten raked up in the struggle, caught against the wall behind her, and she was naked beneath it. Her careful hair pinning had been destroyed so she looked like a feral creature, her breath throttled in her growling throat. Rolling her head back against the stone wall, she made a keening wail, a hiss mixed up in the sound. Her chest heaved with exertion. As he watched, though, the red in her eyes shifted back to blue-green, the ebbing of bloodlust.



He wished she could stay in the grips of the madness, because as her awareness returned, so, too, did her awareness of what had just happened. Her eyes filled with horror and fear of herself, her lips pressing together against the apology she already knew was useless. She seemed oblivious to the knife wound in her side, still leaking blood.



Daegan went to her, examining the stab point, and then knelt, placing his mouth on it. With methodical precision, he licked the edges, then across the tear in her flesh, aiding her slowly developing healing ability with the clotting agents in his tongue. His large hands rested on her waist, nearly meeting. Her trembling lips pressed together as if the sensation was unexpectedly soothing, and perhaps something more, but it didn't dispel the anguish in her face



As for Gideon, he'd made it to the far corner of the cell. Putting his hands on his knees, he bent down to take a shuddering breath. When he saw Daegan's feet approach at last, he would have knocked him away, but his gut was cramping so hard he couldn't straighten.



“Don't,” he said hoarsely as Daegan's touch whispered over the open wound on his neck. “Don't touch me.”



Surprisingly Daegan stepped back. Since he didn't seem the type that took orders from anyone, it meant he was being considerate, giving Gideon space. That annoyed him more.



Still, Daegan's irritating implacability, his close presence, was a clear command to Gideon to pull his shit together. Or maybe he was about to tell him to get the hell out, because he couldn't be trusted. He'd fought vampires too long, too hard. In the end, he wouldn't be able to tell the difference between her and any of the others he'd killed.



Yes. He. Would.With a vicious oath, he stripped off his jacket, unbuckled the harnesses, yanked out all the knives and guns, ignoring the fact he was showing Daegan every place he hid his weapons. Since that was stupid enough, thrusting them all at Daegan to divest him of any defenses against her, or him, was just more of the same idiocy. “Put them in the study, where they're out of reach, goddamn it.”