My Lord Vampire (Immortal Rogues #1)(53)

“What is it, Simone?” he demanded, before abruptly grimacing as he realized he had used her sister’s name. “I am sorry. That is simply how I think of you.”

Her lips twisted at the irony of becoming the woman she had once hated.

“It is how I think of myself now. It is as if Sally Jenkins never existed. Odd, is it not?”

“No.” He smiled deep into her troubled eyes. “You have become the woman you longed to be using that name.”

“But it is not mine.”

“You have made it your own,” he argued in tones that defied contradiction.

A renegade flare of amusement lightened her taut features at his arrogant assurance.

“I fear others would not share your sentiment.”

He shrugged his unconcern. “What do we care for others?”

She reached up to gently touch his cheek, sending a flare of searing heat through him.

“Gideon, you must promise me that you will be careful.”

The husky concern in her voice made him tumble into love with her all over again. No one had ever felt the need to worry over his safety. He was, after all, immortal. Not to mention far too arrogant for anyone to believe he was in any way vulnerable.

But astonishingly he discovered he very much liked the thought of this woman fussing over him.

He turned his head to press his lips to the palm of her tiny hand.

“I am always careful.”

Her lips thinned at his adamant words. “You may have forgotten the last occasion we were at the brewery, but I assure you that I have not.”

He gave a brief nod of his head at her direct hit. He had stumbled into the brewery blind on the last occasion. This time he would be prepared.

“I will be on guard, I assure you.”

Her fingers tightened upon his cheek as her brows knit together.

“I do not believe I could bear anything to happen to you.”

He lifted his own hand to cover her chilled fingers. “Nothing is going to happen. I will not allow it. Not now that I have discovered you.”

Their gazes entwined as a thick, poignant silence filled the air. Through the bonds that had been woven between them Gideon could feel her pulsing emotions. Fear. Bewilderment. The pain from wounds that had not yet healed. And, through it all was a steady strand of unwavering love that connected her to him as firmly as if they were bound by chains.

“Gideon,” she whispered softly.

He stilled, decidedly awed by the sense of fierce satisfaction that filled his heart. She might not yet have admitted to herself that she belonged to him, but he no longer doubted. It shimmered within her with an unmistakable glow.

Taking her fingers he once again pressed a soft kiss to her palm. He wished to be done with Tristan so that he could concentrate fully on this wonderful, maddening woman.

“We will discuss this later,” he promised in husky tones. “For now, go down to the foyer and await me.”

With a reluctant nod of her head she turned to slip from the room. Gideon paused, forcing himself to take a steadying breath.

For all of his confidence in assuring Simone that all would be well, he was not so foolish as to underestimate Tristan.

Not only did he have the powers of his bloodlust, but he had proven he was willing to use any means, even those forbidden, to achieve his goal. Such desperation made him more dangerous than ever.

That unfamiliar sense of fear returned.

Not for himself. At least not in the physical sense.

But fear that he might fail.

He could not allow that to happen.

If he did ... the woman he loved would die.

The dark, stench-filled streets of the Rookery seemed uncommonly quiet as they pulled the carriage to a halt.

In the distance the sounds of the gin houses and calls of the prostitutes echoed eerily, but nothing stirred among the decrepit buildings that pressed close to the brewery.

Seated beside Gideon, Simone gave a violent shiver as she peered into the shadows.

“I am afraid,” she said softly, not at all embarrassed to admit her building panic.

Reaching out a hand he covered her fists clenched in her lap with a comforting warmth.

“I will not allow Tristan to harm you.”

She turned her head to regard him with a troubled gaze. “He is a vampire.”

“Yes, and because he has taken human life he is extremely powerful.”

Her stomach quivered in horror, for the moment she could not think of the poor victims Tristan had murdered; her concern was only for Gideon and the risk he was about to take.

“More powerful than you?”

“In some regards,” he admitted, then, shifting his hand from her own, he reached beneath his coat to remove a small dagger. “I do, however, have a weapon he fears above all others.”

Simone was not overly impressed with the dagger. It hardly appeared to be a weapon suitable of disposing of a vampire.

“What will it do?” she demanded in puzzlement.

There was a pause before his elegant features abruptly tightened with distaste.

“It will kill him.”

Simone was swift to sense the reluctance in his words. Whatever Tristan had done, he was a vampire and it was obvious that Gideon would take no pleasure in his death.

“You do not wish to use it?” she asked gently.

“No.” His gaze shifted to the shabby brewery, a frown marring his brow. “Killing another vampire is like killing a father or brother. I would prefer he return behind the Veil.”