Fear the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #9)(7)

But it was the rumors that they retained the old powers lost to the vampires of this world that made them feared.

Most of the gossip was exaggerated, but there were still some forgotten talents that could be mastered.

Which, of course, was precisely why Gaius had petitioned to travel through the Veil after the death of his mate. Although most had assumed that he’d been seeking the peace to be found on the other side.

As if meditation and flowers could ease the brutal loss of his beloved Dara.

Stupid bastards.

Forced to stand and watch his mate being burned at the stake by a rival vampire clan, Gaius would have walked straight into the sun if it hadn’t been for the Dark Lord.

Even as Dara had burned, the powerful deity had appeared as a misty shadow at his side, whispering promises of Dara’s return from the grave, all for the small price of Gaius’s soul.

It was a trade-off that Gaius had made without a second thought. The return of his mate? Hell yes, he’d sell his soul a dozen times over. And it was a decision he hadn’t regretted, despite the long years of seclusion beyond the Veil.

Obeying his new lord, he’d avoided attracting attention while learning the skill of shape-shifting and eventually using the medallion he’d found hidden beneath one of the fountains to mist-walk. It was the latter skill that had allowed him to escape undetected from the Veil to return to the world he’d left behind so many years ago.

Briefly disoriented by his abrupt journey, Gaius leaned against the nearest cypress tree and struggled to regain his balance.

He felt . . .

Yeah. That was it.

He felt all the things that were forgotten on the other side.

The weight of his slender body covered by a simple robe. The summer breeze that stirred the dark strands of his hair, which he wore short and slicked from his face. Startled, he lifted a hand to touch the chilled skin of his cheek before trailing down the strong thrust of his nose, which bore the proud stamp of his days as a Roman general. Most creatures would find him handsome, he vaguely recalled, although his dark eyes remained as bleak and lifeless as the day he’d watched Dara die.

And then he was struck by less desirable sensations.

With a frown his fingers shifted to the fangs that suddenly throbbed at the distant scent of human blood.

Hunger.

And not just of the liquid variety, he angrily realized, his body hardening with a nearly forgotten ache of desire.

Shoving away the unpleasant realization, Gaius grimly turned his attention to the secluded house that was located on the edge of the Louisiana swamp.

Built on brick stilts, it was a large structure painted white with black shutters and a screened-in wraparound porch. The front yard was filled with large trees draped in Spanish moss that effectively hid the place from the narrow path that led to the small town.

All in all it was the perfect place for a vampire to remain hidden.

Which was no doubt why the Dark Lord had sent him here to wait for his next orders.

Ignoring the humid heat and swarms of bugs that filled the air, Gaius made his way through the front gate and up the wide staircase. He stepped through the door of the porch, relieved to catch sight of the overhead fan providing a much needed breeze.

Although he’d been on the other side of the Veil, he was well aware of the changes in this world, and after centuries of choosing a spartan existence to concentrate on his studies, he was anxious to enjoy a lair equipped with all the modern technology. Including electricity and a hot shower.

And privacy.

Narrowing his gaze, he belatedly realized the scent of human was coming from inside the house. And that it was drawing closer.

His time away had made him sloppy, he chastised himself, reaching beneath his robe to withdraw the pugio—a small Roman dagger—he’d hidden among the satin folds. Then, moving with a silent speed, he shoved open the door and stepped into the shadows of the living room.

“Who is there?” he growled, his gaze skimming over the padded bamboo chairs and couch that were scattered over the wooden floorboards.

There was a faint rustle, then the lights tucked in the high, open-beamed ceiling were flipped on and a young female stepped into the room.

“Me.”

Gaius tucked away his dagger. If he decided to kill the human it would be by draining all that sweet, tempting blood.

“Be more precise,” he commanded, his speech pattern becoming rigidly formal as his anger overcame his months of secret training to mingle among the natives.

“Sally Grace.”

His gaze narrowed as he studied the intruder. She might have been cute in a childish manner, with her dark hair pulled into two braids on each side of her pale, pretty face. But her brown eyes were heavily lined with makeup and her full lips painted a shocking shade of black and pierced with a gold hoop. There was a matching hoop in one brow and a dozen more along the shell of her ear.

Worse was her strange costume.

The scarlet corset was all that covered her tiny bosom and a tiny leather skirt was plastered to her hips. She had on leggings and high-heeled boots, but they did little more than emphasize her slender curves. She clearly had no males in her life to forbid such a shocking display of her body.

“Why are you in my home?”

She propped her shoulder against the doorjamb, looking far too comfortable. “Our master sent me to make sure you had everything you need for your return.”