“Yes, my temptress?” he prodded.
The lie would not come and she sucked in an unsteady breath. Surely it was not cowardly to realize when it was best to retreat? There would be other nights to teach this gentleman a lesson he so richly deserved, she attempted to ease her damaged pride. And on the next occasion she would be prepared to battle those dizzying sensations that threatened to overwhelm her.
“We should return to the ballroom,” she managed to say in a husky voice.
His lips twitched as if he were fully aware of the heat that still tormented her.
“But I have not yet fully beguiled you.” His accent was more noticeably pronounced as he reached out to gently stroke his hand down the curve of her neck. The dark eyes smoldered with an unreadable fire as she shivered beneath his caress.
“We will be missed,” she breathed.
“I thought you shunned society’s rules?”
Those fingers brushed the frantic pulse at the base of her neck, the moonlight adding dangerous shadows to his lean countenance. He suddenly appeared different.
Harder.
Perilous.
Inflexible.
A predator that could destroy her with ease.
“Gideon?”
“Do you still prefer to be among the wolves?” he demanded, his dark velvet voice sending a shudder through her. “There is danger here in the dark.”
Simone readily believed him.
She could feel the danger.
It pulsed in the still air and cloaked about her slender body. She suddenly felt vulnerable in a manner she had never before experienced.
“This is madness,” she whispered more to herself than to the gentleman watching her with those glittering eyes.
“Then remain with the sheep where you are safe, my dear.”
The challenge was unmistakable, but for once Simone was not so swift to rise up and meet it.
She had her pride, but she was not a complete fool.
“I ...”
The sudden sound of approaching footsteps was almost a welcome intrusion and ignoring the taunting smile that curved his mouth, Simone readily turned to watch the uniformed servant who hurried in their direction.
“Pardon me for intruding, Mr. Ravel,” the young footman apologized with a low bow.
Gideon waved a pale hand. “What is it?”
“A message arrived for you. The servant claimed that it was urgent you speak with him.”
“Thank you.” Waiting for the footman to turn and make his way back toward the house, Gideon shifted so that he could stab her with a piercing gaze. “It seems our interlude must come to an untimely end. You can find your way back to the ballroom on your own, I trust?”
Simone lifted her brows in surprise, forgetting that just a moment before she was anxious to end her time alone with Gideon. She was not accustomed to being dismissed with such obvious ease.
“You are leaving?”
He gave a shrug. “Duty calls.”
“Duty? What duty?” she demanded, regarding him with suspicion. “Where are you going?”
He reached out to tap her nose as if she were a precocious child rather than the “Wicked Temptress” who had bewitched London with her seductive powers.
“Out among the wolves, my love,” he murmured, leaning down to tenderly brush her lips before he was disappearing into the shadows with a fluid motion.
Feeling baffled and more than a bit dazed by her latest encounter with Mr. Ravel, Simone planted her hands upon her hips and glared into the darkness.
Nothing had gone as it was supposed to.
Gideon was no closer to being wrapped in her silken threads of power while she ... well, there was no denying that she had eagerly fallen into his arms like an overripe peach.
What had Mary said earlier? Something about being burned when playing with fire?
Her eyes narrowed with self-recrimination. She had failed on this occasion. Failed spectacularly.
Next time, she silently assured herself.
And there would be a next time.
Chapter 4
Gideon glided through the shadows with a frown marring his wide brow.
He was not at all happy to discover that it had been more than a little difficult to leave Simone behind in the garden.
It had, indeed, been a decided wrench.
For the love of great Nefri, she was a mortal, he reminded himself sternly.
A mere woman who was only important because she briefly held a part of the Medallion.
But when he had pulled her into his arms and touched his lips to hers, he had forgotten the reason he was determined to keep her close. He had forgotten that he intended to use her passions to weave a trap she could not escape. He had forgotten all but the sweet temptation that had flooded through him.
His frown deepened as he angled toward his waiting carriage.
He was well acquainted with passions of the flesh.
He had lost himself in the pleasures of mortal women on countless occasions before retreating behind the Veil.
But this was nothing at all like he remembered.
Oh, there was the same burning hunger that raced through his blood, and the same ache that hardened his body with need. But threaded through the desire was a strange, unexpected tenderness that made him long to sweep her off her feet and hide her far away from the danger that threatened.
Tenderness.
He gave a shake of his head.
There was no place for such weakness among vampires.
Only humans found pleasure in such frailty.
Ignoring the urge to turn about and ensure that Simone made it safely back to the ballroom, Gideon continued on to his carriage. Within moments the groomsman stepped forward to open the door so that he could climb within and discover the slender, ragged youth that was nearly hidden in a distant corner.
He thrust aside his bothersome thoughts to concentrate upon the lad he had hired to keep his ears open for rumors of a Mr. Soltern. Older than most of the other ragamuffins he had put into his service, the boy possessed a calm intelligence that had impressed Gideon from their first meeting.
“I presume this has something to do with Mr. Soltern?” he demanded as he slid into a seat across from his unexpected guest.
“No, sir,” the lad surprised him by admitting in a near whisper. “But you did ask to be informed of any ... unusual deaths in the city.”
Gideon felt a stir of premonition ripple through the closed confines of the carriage. His muscles tightened with sudden anticipation although no human eye could have detected his tension as he leaned negligently against the leather cushions.
“There has been a murder?”
“Aye, a harlot from the Rookery.”
Gideon gave a lift of his brow. “Hardly an unusual occurrence.”
“The girl was found floating in the river with her throat ripped out.”
With a smooth movement Gideon lifted the hatch set in the roof of the carriage.
“To St. Giles,” he commanded in cold tones.
“Yes, sir,” the coachman retorted with a crack of his whip.
With a lurch the carriage was in motion, traveling through the pleasant peace of Mayfair toward Great Russell Street where thieves and whores plied their trade.
Gideon returned his attention to the boy across from him. “Tell me what you know.”
“T’ain’t much.” He rubbed the tip of his pointed nose. “I was lingering outside Mrs. Finch’s establishment, seeing as how most of the fancy gents enjoy spending a few hours with her girls, hoping to catch a hint of this Mr. Soltern when I overheard two blokes talking of a whore they had pulled out of the river. It seems the Watch was right upset when they discovered her throat was missing.”
Gideon drummed impatient fingers upon his knee. Tristan had always been brutal, and with the powers of his bloodlust he could easily shift to an animal capable of such destruction. Certainly he would not put it past the renegade to enjoy such a kill.
“What do the authorities believe occurred?”
“The runners are saying it is a madman.”
“Certainly a madman,” Gideon agreed with a chilled smile.
The usually unshakable youth shifted nervously against the smooth leather of his seat.
“Were you wanting to see the body?”
He considered a long moment before giving a shake of his head. At the moment it was more important that he discover who had witnessed this murder. There had to be someone who had taken note of the whore. And who had been her last customer.
“There is no need. I wish to be taken to where she was last seen.”
“It is bound to be dangerous,” the boy warned. “Gentleman such as yerself will be seen as an easy mark in such a neighborhood.”
The dark eyes glittered with a lethal glow. “There will be none foolish enough to trouble me,” he retorted in silky tones.
Something in the harsh set of his features seemed to assure the boy that he was more than a match for even the most hardened criminal.
“Aye, sir.”
A heavy silence descended as they rumbled down the cobbled streets, leaving behind the tidy squares and gardens to enter the narrow, dark lanes that were crowded with gin shops, slaughterhouses and common lodging hovels. It was a maze of alleys, cul-de-sacs and closed courts that made it near impossible to travel without becoming hopelessly lost. And in the shadows lurked the desperate prostitutes, pickpockets and drunkards that clung to a meager existence.
