But in those few suspended moments, it was as if they both shed everything they'd built around themselves, and offered something different to each other. The people they wished they could have been, or who they'd been before everything else in their lives had happened. When he'd put his arm around her waist, and she'd brushed her lips against his, it had been just the two of them.
And an unseen vampire. With a snarl, he ducked his head under the water and resolved to get the hell out of there. It was all bullshit.
Anwyn poured herself the brandy and sat back to look at it. The swirl of amber liquid glittered in the candlelight of her retiring room. It was an old-fashioned concept, the retiring room, but she liked it. A place for a lady to go collect her thoughts, be by herself, unmolested. She lifted her gaze to the empty chair across from her as if it belonged to an unseen guest. Only in this case, the brandy was the only guest, an unwelcome one. But occasionally she needed this lesson, this reminder. She really needed it tonight.
Picking up the glass in a decisive movement, she brought it to her lips, tipped it. The liquid burned, but she swallowed hard and fast, taking in the smell, the memory. She was gagging by the last swallow, but she managed it, slamming the heavy crystal down and coughing.
You did not consume me. I consumed you, turned you into one of my strengths. I consumed my enemy, consumed his power.
She'd resisted the desire to have the shower footage sent to her room so she could watch him bathe, see his angry movements, the frustration that fueled every inch of his enticing, powerful body, the furious blue eyes. What had happened between them, in the Queen's Chamber bathing area, had been unexpected.
But when he'd surrendered to her, to whatever she would do to him, something in her heart had bled.
She'd surrendered as well. It had been too long since she'd allowed herself that.
When he wouldn't open his eyes after she removed the blindfold, just reached out for her, touched her with trembling hands capable of such deadly force, she'd heard the click of connection. A bond had formed, too unmistakable to deny.
The empty part of her she wanted Daegan to fill, but knew he could not, had been drawn to Gideon Green, as if she were poised on the fulcrum of a scale. Somehow she'd believed the secret to Gideon held that balance. As if confirming her intuition, Gideon hadn't known what he wanted, and then, in that split second, he had. He'd wanted her, what she could offer, not just inside these walls, but more. That need had curled around her, drawn her close into his almost-tender but demanding embrace, making her do what she never did: kiss a client with stunning intimacy and such emotion she was still shaking inside.
But in the end, it didn't matter what his soul had whispered to her. He'd seen Daegan's marks, and that fragile reality had been destroyed by a much more brutal one. No matter what it was about Gideon that had called to her, apparently the Powers That Be had allowed her only one moment of it.
She was a disciplined woman. Though her soul was wounded from the near miss, she wasn't going to get mired down in it. She'd been wrong. She'd file Gideon Green in the place in her mind she kept all pleasurable puzzles. Would Daegan be glad her obsession was over? He'd been odd about this one, seemingly almost as fascinated with Gideon as she was. It was a mystery, but then, so much about Daegan was.
“Anwyn?” Her earpiece beeped and she heard Leona, the front desk hostess. “Sorry to bother you, but there's a group of gentlemen asking to see someone named Daegan Rei. I told them there's no one on staff by that name, and we don't release client names, but they've asked to talk to the owner. They're being very insistent.”
Alarm bells went off in her head. Only she and James knew Daegan's name, and what he was. It was another reason she was glad she'd blocked audio and visual on Gideon before he began to talk about vampires. Occasionally others might see Daegan coming and going, but they were told he was a particular friend of Anwyn's, and no further questions were to be asked. In the type of establishment she ran, such discretion was a job requirement.
“Is Jon Smith still in the showers?”
“Yes.”
“Has he made any calls?”
“No.”
Of course not. How would he know Daegan by name, anyhow? Her stomach tightened. “Is James up front already?”
“Yes.”
“Advise him of our visitors and tell him I'll be there shortly to deal with them.” The only one looking for Daegan would be another vampire. Taking a deep breath, she shoved the glass away from her and opened her office closet. She couldn't go up front in a robe. She wished she had time for a full shower, but in truth, she found herself reluctant to wash Gideon's scent from her skin just yet.
When she returned to the front area, she had her hair twisted up, and wore black slacks and a satin red and gold dragon-patterned tunic, a sexy but austere look she hoped would serve its purpose.
There were three of them. Even before she reached the private foyer where the front hostess had brought them to sit and wait, she knew they were trouble. The one in charge put her radar into red-alert mode. Short-cropped copper hair, dark brown eyes and a drawn, skeletal look to his face reminded her of a handsome rock star living way too hard. His two companions could have been his drummer and guitarist, for they bore the same gaunt look and burning eyes, their passions an unhealthy hunger for them or whomever they met. They looked barely legal to be in here, but with vampires, she knew the apparent age didn't mean anything.
James stood at the door, his posture seemingly casual, but she knew he'd already sensed they might have a problem. The three sat in the provided chairs, facing one another. When she was still ten feet from the doorway, their heads came up, eerily in sync, and swiveled toward her. Anwyn's gut knotted, but she forced herself to calm. Like all predators, vampires and men smelled fear on a woman as quickly as they scented arousal. When she reached the door, her security head glanced at her, his mouth grim.
“Thank you, James,” she said. “You may go now.”
His look of surprise was quickly replaced by something else. “I should stay, Miss Naime.”
“No, you shouldn't. I don't require any assistance with this.”James, please, please listen to me. She needed her head of security alive. “I'll call you if I need you.” She tapped her earpiece, gave him another nod.
He glanced at their three “guests,” then back at her, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “All right, then. I'll be close.” His expression said he'd want to talk about a few things that had happened this evening. While he was her employee, he'd been with her long enough to earn the right to worry and fuss if she took risks.
But right now, she needed his obedience. Fortunately, as he took his leave, it helped her own nerves.
Now it was just her and them, no innocent bystanders.
Fixing on a smile, she turned and faced the copper-haired one. “Mr. Barnabus? You were seeking a guest here?” She didn't extend a hand as she might to most guests. She wasn't intending for them to get a grip on her in any way, and vampires could be like wild dogs if meat was dangled in front of them. Easily distracted from their objective.
“Daegan Rei owns this place.” His sibilant lisp ran a chill up her spine.
“I'm afraid you've been misinformed. I own this place. And there are no previous owners. I created Atlantis.”
Barnabus gave her a once-over, and his nostrils flared. “You got vamp smell on you. You're his. Where is he?”
“Excuse me?” She raised a brow. “Mr. Barnabus, you may not be aware of what kind of club this is.
I'm not sure what you mean by ‘vamp,' but if you're implying I'm some kind of prostitute, we run a legal BDSM club here. I'm one of the practicing Dommes. If you . . . smell someone . . . perhaps it was one of the clients I tended tonight? While I'm not at liberty to provide member information, I can tell you I don't recognize that name. Aliases are often used.”
He stared at her. That empty expression chilled her further. When he took a step forward, she stood her ground, forced everything trembling inside to stay inside. The brandy helped, a fiery source of courage.
“He's not here,” Barnabus repeated.
“No.” She held his gaze. “No one by that name is here.”
“Pity,” he said at last. “I guess I'll figure out another way to get a message to him.” Before she could blink, he was touching her face, his finger sliding along her cheekbone, others coiling in her hair. Not his fingers; his friends'. They'd closed around her left and right sides faster than she could follow, and their hunger was a repulsive, overpowering heat.
“Gentlemen,” she said, knowing her pulse rate was increasing in a perilous way. It took enormous effort to keep her voice steady. She had to slow her words down to accomplish it, and she still cracked over a few syllables, mentally cursing her lack of composure. “As I said, I am not a prostitute. If you are interested in the club's services, you may return to the front desk and we will take your membership application. Review takes several days, however, while we run a background check.” During which time, she would do everything possible to keep them from coming back into her club.
Making her movements firm, decisive, a dismissal not a retreat, she stepped backward. She backed into another solid male.
Glancing up, she saw Gideon stood behind her, his gaze fixed on the three vamps. He had the look of a warrior focused on one single objective. His hands settled on her hips, steadying her. Vaguely, she noted his hair was still damp, unruly because he'd carelessly slicked it back with his fingers, and he wore the staff T-shirt she'd provided.
Notwithstanding the abrupt and disappointing end to their session together, pride and anger couldn't suppress the knee-weakening relief. Or the foolish spike of response ricocheting through her woman's body at the sight of him here, championing her, all tough leather and denim and sharp blue eyes. Of course, fear almost instantly laced the reaction, because she didn't want him to come to harm, either.
