Midnight Rose (28 page)

“And what do you call this?” The boy gestured around the room. “What have you been doing all this time?”

“Festering,” Gideon replied.

They stood in silence, Jude watching the flames and Gideon fighting the urge to sink back into the chair.

Grief thundered through his veins in slow rolls. He was too weak from lack of sustenance to fight it.

“Jude.”

The boy’s face turned and Gideon felt the cool, black touch of his gaze. “What, Dad?”

“What else did Delilah take from you over the last couple of nights?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

The teenager folded his arms and moved away, toward the window, where he stared out before drawing the curtains. “I didn’t do anything with her.”

“No?”

“Other than, you know, she showed me how to feed.” He swallowed, had enough humility to sound embarrassed. “I think she really likes that part.”

Rage rippled up Gideon’s back. “Where is she now? She can’t have gone far with daylight coming. Not as far as Roanoke, anyway.” He crossed the rug to look into his son’s pale, smooth face. “You know where she is, don’t you?” Jude returned his steady gaze. “I won’t tell you. You’ll kill her.” “Will I?” A humorless smile curved Gideon’s lips. “Come on, Jude. I at least have a right to talk to her about all this.”

“Only if you’ll say you won’t hurt her.”

How could he promise any such thing when every cell in his body vibrated with hatred and rage?

Glancing away, he clenched his jaws and nodded. “Fine.”

“Give your word.”

“Damn it, Jude. There’s going to come a day when your allegiance to her will fade and you’ll wish things were different.” He sighed, the sound of surrender. “I won’t hurt her. I give my word.” “She’s in the pool house.”

Instantly Gideon’s fingers curled into fists and he started for the door, but Jude jumped in front of him.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make it so that she never comes near you again.”

“But you can’t. You said you wouldn’t hurt her.”

Gideon shoved him out of the way. “Let me take care of this my own way. And you…go upstairs before the morning staff sees you. You look like what you are. A ghoul.”

Chapter Nineteen

Fighting the burgeoning weakness that slowed his steps, Gideon headed out the kitchen’s back door.

He had all the time in the world to confront Delilah. She was stuck in that pool house, like a rat under a cat’s claw. The sun would incinerate her if she tried to run.

His fists clenched and unclenched as he cut across the lawn, the grass dewy and cool beneath his bare feet. He wanted to kill her. Despite what he’d promised Jude, the darkness in him spoke more loudly, and everything feral within him called for her destruction.

He could read what was in her mind, the black, laughing shadows, the malice and iniquity. She could spout a million reasons for transforming Jude into a nightwalker, but Gideon knew the truth. She’d retaliated against his repeated rejections by stealing his son. There was nothing he could do to even the score. Nothing to equal this agony. His heart felt wrenched from his chest.

Easing open the French doors that faced the pool, he slipped inside and let his gaze sweep the dark.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

No response. But there, lurking in the gloom, two brilliant sapphires stared back at him. “Don’t come any closer, Gideon.” For the first time in the century he’d known Delilah, fear trembled in her husky voice.

“You’re scared.” Saying the words out loud filled him with a blessed surge of strength, and he let go of the doorframe where he’d braced himself, took a menacing step forward. “You should be.” “Jude told you I was out here, didn’t he?” Half-hidden in shadow, she sounded betrayed, resentful.

“After all I did for him, all the wonderful things I showed him. Ungrateful child.”

“Don’t blame him. I strangled it out of him.” Gideon continued to advance, felt a sting of satisfaction when she backed up. “I don’t like what you’ve done to my son, Delilah. The boy in that house isn’t Jude.” “He’s better than the boy you knew. Healed. Strong. He was ready. He’d already felt the hunger, Gideon. He—”

“He’s fourteen, for God’s sake!” Propelled by rage, he flew at her and pinned her against the far wall.

She dug at his chokehold with inhuman fingers, but despite his weakness, she couldn’t budge him. His grip on her throat tightened. “What’s to stop me from draining you dry right here, you treacherous bitch?

You’ve taken my son from his rightful journey and set him on the path to hell.” Fear blazed in her eyes as she struggled beneath him, and the animal in him reveled in her panic. His muscles twisted under his skin, fingers into claws, teeth into fangs that would shred her just as soon as feed from her.

“How will you die?” he gritted, the drop in his voice heralding the monster’s advent. “Squirming like a pinned rat between my jaws while your precious blood dribbles away? Or thrashing around the lawn while the sun chars your flawless complexion?” “Gideon…” she managed. “Please…”

An inhuman snarl tore from his chest and he jerked her away from the wall, forcing her head to the side to expose the vulnerable flesh of her neck. “Are you begging, Delilah? You, whom so many have begged for mercy? How does it feel?” He bit her, grazed her skin just enough to make her flinch. “Did Jude beg you to let him go once he knew what you planned to do? Was he frightened and helpless, like you are now?” She grabbed at his hand tangled in her hair, tugged fruitlessly to free herself. “No—he knew it was inevitable. His heritage…” She choked, coughing for air. “Let me go.” He stared at the thin blue vein pulsing a staccato rhythm under his thumb. Hunger tore at him. God, he needed her blood. There was no honor in starvation, and his steely anger began to collapse under his raging appetite. He tugged her face close to his, studied the white-hot sparks of apprehension around her pupils. “Beg me again. I like the sound of it.” “Please…”

“Why should I give you a choice, when you clearly gave Jude none?”

“But he called upon me!” she cried in desperation. “He recognized the gift and wanted it. He’s powerful, Gideon. Your boy has enormous power. He’ll lead one day, maybe all of us. Even without me, he would have found his way. You can kill me, but it won’t change Jude’s path now. Nothing will. It’s predestined.” Gideon paused, battered by the truth in her words. He’d carelessly dismissed the signs of power that had showed themselves in Jude over the years. Realization stole his rage and strength. Even as his tongue traced the path of destruction on the soft skin of her throat, he knew he’d be unjustified in killing her. But oh, to drink from her now. To spill her blood and crumble her to dust with his hunger…

With a curse, he released her and she slumped to the floor.

He paced in front of her, glaring at the mop of blonde hair concealing her features as she hung her head.

“I should kick you out into the sunlight. It’s a beautiful morning, Delilah. You’d sizzle. But I’m too weary to deal with you now. You’ve got your life, but barely. Only because Jude came home. It’s the only thing that saves you.” For a long time she didn’t speak, and he thought the shudder of her shoulders was trembling. It wasn’t until she lifted her head that Gideon realized she was laughing. Her fangs flashed in the dim morning light that crept around the shuttered windows. “My life in return for bringing him back to this cozy hell he calls home. How noble of you.” She raised her chin and the mirth faded from her lips, replaced by a sneer.

“He begged me not to bring him back. He wanted to stay with me.”

“You lie.” Gideon stared at her, hatred roiling inside him. “When dusk comes, don’t linger. You’ll meet your end here.”

But she only began to laugh again, her eyes glowing, wraithlike, in the shadows. “And how will you reward me, Gideon, for giving you this?” Reaching behind her, she slid out a small metal box that he instantly recognized.

The blood of the saint.

Behind him, the secretary where he’d always kept it hidden hung slightly open. She’d found the key and then the vial.

“Give it to me,” he growled.

“Come and get it.” Cradling it against her thighs, she cracked open the box and examined it. “So this is the magic potion that will deliver your soul? This tiny bit of dried-up blood? God’s elixir. Your salvation.” She snatched up the glass vial and snarled at him. “Get back, or I’ll crush it into a thousand pieces.” “And then you’ll die,” he said, his eyes narrowed to slits.

“And you’ll live forever with no end in sight to the fun.” She held it up to the light. “What will you give me to get it back, my darling?”

The fury pounding through him clouded his strategic thought. His hunger was growing greater than his loathing, fed by passion and hatred. A fresh wave of weakness swept over his head and he swayed, braced a palm against the floor to steady himself. Before his eyes, Delilah’s image swam like a hazy oasis.

Oblivious to his sudden vulnerability, Delilah slid closer. “I know you won’t kill me, Gideon. No matter how angry you are, you won’t break the rules of the Xanthia edict. You’ve got too much riding on it to act on your base instincts.” He shook his head in an attempt to banish the disabling fog, and between clenched teeth said, “What do you want in exchange for the vial?” Her laughter echoed like tiny bells. “So now you’ll negotiate. I like this side of you much, much better.” She narrowed her eyes, her tongue like a flickering serpent as it skimmed her lips and disappeared again.

“I want to feed from you one last time. Like before. When you loved me.”

“I never loved you.”

The pleasure fled her features and she clamped her hand around the fragile vial, wounded. “You told me so, many times in the heat of passion.”

A shudder vibrated through him and his head dropped as he drew in a deep breath, fighting nausea and dizziness. He was too sick to be diplomatic. He had to get the vial from her, and if he didn’t feed soon, he’d lapse into darkness.

“In the heat of passion,” she repeated petulantly. “You said it, Gideon. Trust me.” He forced his eyes open and took a stab at the game. “Well, then. If I said it, I must have meant it…in the heat of passion.” She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “I want to take you there again. I want you to say it and mean it this time.” With a sigh, Gideon straightened and found a nearby wicker settee, where he sat heavily and closed his eyes. “You can’t feed from me. I’ve nothing to give.”

When he looked at her, a frown knit her brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I have no cards to play with. I haven’t fed in days.” Delilah slanted him a doubtful look, then a smug knowing curved her lips and she stood. “So…the beast is temporarily disarmed.” His eyes followed the flash of glass as she tucked the vial inside her jacket, out of his reach.

She crept toward him, caution written across her features, but lust just as potent. “Want me, Gideon?”

“Not you,” he said, the words faint. “Just your blood. Then you’ll have what you want, and we’ll be done. It’s all I can offer.”

“And the vial?”

“Give it back to me.”

“Not for nothing.”

“Then what?” Impatience snapped off the ends of his words. “What else?”

“You.”

Gideon rolled his head to meet her gaze, his lip curled with repugnance. “You want sex?” She shrugged, flipped her silvery-blonde hair in a careless gesture. “I could be persuaded.” Desperation pummeled at the barricade of his self-control. He needed the vial. He needed blood. Delilah had both. But the devil would have to take him before he did anything more than feed from her. Raising a listless hand, he forced himself to speak the lies. “You want me to fuck you right here on the floor? Fine.

But give me the vial first.”

“No. Not until I’m sure…”

“Then give me blood so I can have strength to offer you what you want.” Satisfaction deepened her smile. She believed him. “There’s the Gideon I know. Reasonable. Decorous.

My poor love.” She approached him, ran caressing fingers across his brow. “You’re starving to death.” Reaching into the outside pocket of her jacket, she withdrew an ebony-handled straight razor and dragged it across her wrist.

Fragrant, crimson blood welled and ran down into the palm of her hand, dripped off her fingertips. The hot scent of it alone made Gideon so weak, he closed his eyes and struggled to remain conscious.

“Come here,” he whispered thickly, his fingers wrapping around her free wrist.

For an instant Delilah resisted, watching him with glittering eyes and a triumphant smile. Then she allowed herself to be pulled to him, and he fastened his mouth on her skin and let the warm, salty liquid trickle into his mouth. With a groan he tumbled back, pulling her with him. The hunger within him roared and thrashed with every pull on her flesh, with every swallow, despicable and uninvited.

A fleeting image of Kate darted behind his eyelids, enough to permeate his drugged haze. Through love, all things are possible .

I love you, Gideon. Kate’s words, whispered in the midst of lovemaking, when her heart had twined around his, claimed it in sweetness and truth.

With an enormous surge of will, he pushed Delilah away and sat up on the settee, wiping the blood from his mouth. He hadn’t drunk long enough, but it was sufficient to revive his energy and clear his mind. “The vial. Give it to me.” “First things first.” Trailing a hand down his chest, Delilah tugged at the hem of his T-shirt. “Take this off.”

It would be so easy to crush her, to squeeze his fingers around her throat and snatch the vial from her shattered body. But he didn’t have it in him to wreak more damage. Jude was destroyed, as much a monster as the father who’d mindlessly conceived him. The despicable truth yawned in every corner of Sister Oaks, and soon Kate would know the evil that surrounded her. She would flee. He had nothing left to lose, except the vial and its hazy, capricious promise.

Reaching over his head, he grabbed a fistful of shirt and pulled it up and off. “Give me the razor. I’ll do it myself.”

“Let me,” she whispered, sinking to her knees in front of him. “Let me drink from your heart.” Broken, resigned, he let her have her way, his gaze darting over her head to the shuttered window and the tiny shards of sunlight seeping in. Morning had arrived. He thought about Kate coming awake, the way she yawned and stretched, the curve of her breast limned by the morning sun. Her sleepy, gentle touch as she rolled toward him, bringing him to arousal with a mere brush of fingertips…

A sharp pain streaked across his chest and he flinched, glanced down at the blood welling faster than Delilah could lap it up. She crawled over him as she pressed him back against the cushions, hair brushing his skin, mouth hot and hungry and everywhere.

He hated her and thirsted for her blood with equal intensity. Without waiting for her to finish, he changed their positions, pinned her to the cushions and fastened his mouth on her wounded wrist again. This was the heat of passion she’d sought, but no words of ardor came from him. Only black, mindless hatred and the will to survive.

Delilah watched him feed, crooning a lover’s encouragement while her fingers sank in his hair to hold his lips against her arm.

While she floated in ecstasy, Gideon’s fingers rifled beneath her jacket and found the precious vial. He despised himself as much as he did her. He would die with the vial in his hand, a desperate fool with nothing left to live for.