Chapter Seventeen
Gannon rose with the moon. Like every vampire, his nocturnal clock would not be denied. He lay still as the steel pulled back from the windows. Instantly, his suite flooded with the light of the Las Vegas Strip.
With a groan, he lumbered from his cold bed. Every night, he found it harder to roll off the mattress. Depression was a bitch when you had shit to take care of. Tonight, he had to escort Gabriel’s human to Ruin before he could start his normal rounds.
After a quick shower, he donned a fitted blue suit and strapped his twin Glocks. He didn’t bother glancing at the mirror. He knew what he’d find. A Black Knight in name and strength, but not at heart. His entire vampire life, he’d been an Outcast, shunned, ridiculed, and hunted by the Red Order. Silvie had said he’d get use to the title and all the pomp and circumstance that came with the new position.
Gannon snatched a handful of poker chips from the tall stacks lining his dresser, shoved them in his pocket, and stalked to the kitchen to throw open the fridge. The door banged against the counter and cabinets, but the jarring sound fell on deaf ears. He grabbed a pack of blood, tore into it with his fangs then poured the contents into a mug. After slamming the microwave door closed, he flipped a chip into the oversized Mason jar on the island. The damn thing was almost full.
Every time he thought of the smart, sexy witch he’d tossed a chip into the jar as penance. Obviously, the system wasn’t working. No matter what he did, he couldn’t stop his thoughts from straying to Silvie.
The microwave dinged and he downed the blood in just three gulps. He hated the stale taste of bagged blood but it sure as hell beat the sensations and danger of taking from the source. Wiping his hand across his mouth, he left the mug on the counter and headed toward the front door.
His steps paused. Chocolate? He scanned the suite with his senses. He didn’t keep chocolate in his home.
Tense, he cautiously turned back to the kitchen. The scent was stronger here.
His gaze fell on the platter of cookies resting just beside the Mason jar.
“What the hell?”
Hesitantly, Gannon approached the sweets. M&Ms. His senses went wild. She’d been here. No. She was here. Now.
“Silvie?”
The air shifted and shimmered until a flowing red cape and female form took shape.
Gannon’s heart hammered, his body instantly heated as her soft scent permeated the room. “Hi, Gannon.”
His body swayed. God, he loved the way she said his name: breathy, impossibly sweet and incredibly erotic. He could listen to her talk forever and craved to hear that voice whisper his name in pleasure. But why was she here?
“Gabriel and Kate have been trying to contact you.”
She pushed the hood of her robe back, revealing her dark silky hair. Her face free of the shadows, her smooth alabaster skin seemed to glow. Her large, deep brown eyes and crimson lips gave her an ethereal elegance. Enchanting. It was impossible for him to look away.
“I can’t help the mortal.” Her voice grew low, her eyes distant. “Only he can.”
Gabriel or Dimitri? “Who?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
Gannon held back a frustrated growl. He hated the Shaw’s laws, the vows they forced their people to take. Every witch held their word sacred. Even his mother and she’d taken her secrets to the grave.
The hateful memory pricked his anger and he snapped, “Then why have you come?”
She winced and he silently berated himself for his harsh tone. “I, um…Our bet. Fair is fair.”
“I told you to forget about all that.”
Her slender shoulders rolled with a shrug beneath her heavy robe. “I know. I tried and I couldn’t.”
She couldn’t. The words rocked him. He wanted to celebrate, to shout in triumph, but something was wrong. Gentling his voice, he asked, “Why are you here, Silvie?”
Her gaze shifted from him to the cookies and remained.
He could tell she wanted to say something, she wanted to share something with him, but she remained silent. Gannon held his breath when she took a step back and viciously fought the urge to lunge for her when she took another. The little witch was retreating and he despised the space between them.
He could sense her unease and he recognized the glamor she wore, it was the same as the last time they’d spoken. She was a skilled witch, but he could see past her incantations, her spells. As a child, he’d learned how to read his mother. She’d always masked her true feelings and expressions from him, shielding him, protecting him from the ugly truth. He was a half-breed: Native American and White. His family had suffered, but the pain would’ve been unbearable if their village had known his mother’s truth. That she was a witch.
“I shouldn’t have come.” Her image began to fade as she started to teleport. “I’m sorry, Gannon.”
No! He sprang forward, catching her arm before she could dematerialize. Anchoring her, he drew her against him. Not yet. He couldn’t let her leave him just yet.
He cleared his throat and hoped his words didn’t sounds as desperate as he felt, “You came here for a reason.”
“T-the cookies,” she replied. Still refusing to meet his gaze, she stared straight ahead at his chest.
Gannon felt a growl rise in his throat. “Forget the cookies.” He wanted to shake her. He wanted to kiss her until neither of them could think straight.
Finally, she tilted her head up. “I had to see you.”
Thank god. He’d been crazed without her. A man denied Heaven. The last four months had been grueling as he fought alongside Gabriel to bring order and peace to the Outcasts, and Silvie had been there through it all. When he’d felt as if he’d drifted out to sea, she was the light that brought him back to shore.
He’d replayed their last meeting over and over. Analyzing her words, her reactions, and her response to him when he’d taken her lips. He knew they couldn’t be together. Not fully. Not yet. As a Shaw Priestess, Silvie had to remain chaste or risk losing her magic forever. But there were loopholes.
“I’m glad you’re here.” He released her arm and brought his hands up to cup her face. “I’ve missed you.” His fingers traced her high, defined cheekbones and the elegant curve of her jawline.
She shuddered beneath his touch. “Gannon.”
Her breathless whisper spiked his yearning. Sweet gods, he wanted her. Silvie was gentle in nature and in spirit, her words true, her heart pure, and her eyes…they swirled with dark emotion, painful secrets and longing. She didn’t have to say a word, he knew she desired him. He knew she wished circumstance were different, just as he did. Every time he met her gaze it was as if he were staring into a mirror. He could see his soul in her eyes and it perfectly matched hers. She had to know. She had to sense it. She had to feel it too. They were meant for each other.
“What is it? What worries you?” Tell me, he silently pleaded. Whatever it was, he’d face it for her. He’d fight and conquer anything for her.
“I wish I could. Believe me. This pressure…it weighs on me and I can’t tell another soul.” Her voice hitched on a sob and her onyx eyes glistened.
“Let me help.” Confide in me. Trust me.
She shook her head. “No, Gannon. I must do this on my own.”
She fears. What the hell was going on? The Shaw were well known for their secrecy and mysterious rituals. Their Shaman was ill and the Sequester would soon take place. Every Priestess would lock themselves in the Shaw temple. Days, sometimes weeks would pass before they emerged, their powers drained, their bodies weak, and one Priestess would be immaculately blessed with a babe in her belly—the reincarnation of their leader.
Gannon reeled as if doused with ice water. Had Silvie been chosen to be the Great Mother for her Tribe?
She pressed her cheek against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. He stroked her hair as he fought to process his thoughts.
“Universe altering changes are on the horizon and for the first time in a long time, I can’t see the future. Decisions haven’t been made, actions haven’t been taken. Everything is…so unclear.” She rubbed her face against him. “I feel blind…lost.”
And she’d come to him. She sought him out to comfort her. To protect her. He leaned back and titled her chin up with his index finger. “We all feel like that from time to time. Especially those of us who don’t possess the power of sight.”
Her lips twitched with a smile. “I had to see you.”
One last time. She hadn’t spoken the words but he felt them in his heart. No, his instinct howled. This couldn’t be the end.
“The things you said the last time we spoke, they’ve stuck with me.”
“Silvie—”
“I have to say this before I lose my nerve.” She took in a deep breath and confidently matched his stare. “I like you. I mean, you know, the middle school love you type like you.”
She couldn’t possibly know how much he’d craved to hear those words, but…his heart was heavy. He knew there was more she wasn’t saying.
Gannon gathered her close and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle then hungry, desperate. Silvie rose up on her toes, circled her arms around his neck. Gripping the hair at his nape, she pulled him closer, increasing the pressure of their lips and the friction between their bodies. Their breaths became one. The communion a sweetness he never could have imagined. Never would have believed. He kissed her deep, long, and…dear gods, he wanted more. So much more.
“Gannon,” she sighed against his lips.
He tasted her tears and his heart shattered.
She shoved against his chest and…he let her go. His hands fisted at his sides.
Silvie took a step back and offered him a weak smile. “I’ll be seeing you.”
As she began to fade, tracing back to her Tribe, he vowed, “I’ll wait for you. No matter what happens, no matter how long. I’ll wait and, one day, you will be mine.”
She was gone. She had left him. Cold. Numb.
Had it been a dream? Was he truly awake?
He glanced over to the counter. The cookies and the salty sweet taste of a tear-filled kiss the only evidence Silvie had come to him.
Gannon roared and lashed out. His hand swiped across the counter, the jar crashed to the ground. The blue poker chips—his hopes, dreams, and fantasies—scattered across the floor. A taunting mosaic.
He didn’t know how long he stood in the kitchen. Minutes…hours…Wasn’t there someplace he needed to be? Gabriel had asked him to…do something. Yes, he had orders to take Jordan to the club.
Ruin was a pocket realm within the darkness of the underworld. Gannon had escorted her several levels below the ground floor of the hotel, casino. Jordan followed him down a hall, awed by how the walls, floor and ceiling would change color with every step they took. They paused just outside a set of tall, heavy, intricately carved turquoise doors. Gannon looked at her as if he wanted to say something but shook his head then pushed her inside. He marched her over to a pair of ladies standing beside the bar counter and declared, “Per his Royal Majesty’s decree, Ms. Culver will be joining the staff this evening.”
One woman arched a dark brow. “I wasn’t told to expect a new employee.”
Gannon waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah. My bad.” He gave Jordan a nudge forward. “Allow me to make proper introductions. Jordan this is Rowena, the manager, and Zara, she’s the head bartender.”
Rowena shook her head. “What’s this all about?”
“Hell if I know,” Gannon muttered then wished Jordan “good luck” and turned to leave.
“Wait! What am I supposed to do with a human?”
Gannon paused in the door way. “Guard her, what else?”
Rowena sputtered, “You’re joking.”
He was gone, leaving the ladies alone. Rowena recovered quickly from her shock and slowly approached Jordan. The female vampire was tall and leanly muscled, with short, bright blue hair that was combed up in fohawk style. The hue complimented the deep indigo of her eyes and purple lipstick. She sported a tailored, black business jacket that barely covered her breasts—she wore no shirt—black slacks and blue leather chucks. Rowena’s sleeves were rolled up to her elbows revealing complex tribal tattoos that circled her wrists and flowed up the inside of her forearms. She looked sexy and threatening, but her expression was one of kind concern.
Jordan began to fidget with her hair. Awkward. She’d never enjoyed the interview process but this one was already off to a rocky start.
“Well, this is a first,” Rowena sighed. She rubbed her hands together, her numerous silver rings glinted in the dim light. “Have you worked at a bar before?”
“Yep. Plenty.”
“With vampires?” Zara asked, her French accent thick.
“Co-workers? No. Patrons?” she shrugged. “Probably a dozen times or more.” Bars and clubs were notorious vampire hunting grounds. Perfect for slayers like her. She’d keep that little secret to herself. If things went sour, she’d need the element of surprise on her side in a place full to the brim with vamps.
Rowena cocked her head to the side as if she were reading her thoughts. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re a little thing.”
Jordan squared her shoulders. “A single spark to start a wild fire.”
Rowena laughed. “I love a girl with grit.”
“Oui. You’ll need it.” Zara smiled and skipped to Jordan’s side, her dark brown curls bounced atop her head, and her smoky gray eyes sparkled. She was petite and her movements as graceful as a ballerina. “Come along, sexy, let’s get you ready. When I’m finished with you, you’ll set every deadened heart a flutter.”
There’s only one cold heart I want and he’d better show at the club, she thought as Zara tugged her toward the employee dressing rooms.