He was different since the incident at the university a few nights ago.
He was a changed man.
And the cause of that change now stood before him in expectant silence inside Keaton's house. Keaton gave a deferential nod of greeting, as respectful as a bow.
"Did the individual sent to deal with the girl show up as planned tonight?"
"Yes," Keaton replied, eyes remaining downcast, subservient. "Everything was in place, just as we discussed."
"So, the girl is dead?"
"She is not," Keaton answered, anxious now. He hazarded to lift his eyes and meet the hard stare of the one he served. "She lives. I saw her leave the station with a man."
The shrewd gaze narrowed on him, sparking with deadly fire. "What man?"
"Big," Keaton said. "Tall. A blond thug in a black leather trench coat. I saw weaponry belted at his waist, but he was no police officer or law enforcer. And he was not mortal."
This Keaton understood with full certainty, just one of the new senses he'd acquired a few nights ago, when his eyes were opened to a dark, hidden new world. The world this man showed him when he made Keaton all over again.
"Did they see you--the girl and her companion?"
Keaton gave a slow shake of his head. "No. I realized what he was, and so I made sure not to be noticed. He is one of your kind."
A grunt of acknowledgment, while the fire in those predator's eyes crackled even more coldly. "Of course, he is one of my kind. All the worse, he's one of the Order." Then, more to himself, he mused, "Could he possibly know about me? Does he realize I have that sword, after all this time?"
The sharp gaze came back to Keaton now. "You saw them leave the station together. Where did they go?"
"I don't know," Keaton answered, supposing that he should feel fear to admit that, yet compelled only to speak the truth to the one who owned him now. "I saw the girl and her companion exit the terminal, but then they vanished. I don't know where they've gone. I went to her apartment in Allston to wait, but they never arrived there."
A growl erupted from between gritted teeth. "I need to find that girl before she tells the Order what she knows. Fuck, it may be too late for that already."
"Shall I locate the individual we sent to the station tonight and have him stake out her apartment?" Keaton offered, eager to provide a solution.
His suggestion earned only a dismissive wave. "That particular weapon is of no use now. Gideon will have killed the Rogue for certain. Then again, maybe this setback can work to my advantage." A dark smile broke over his ageless, unlined face. "To think, I nearly killed my Breedmate when she stupidly gave away a number of my private mementos to the university. She didn't know, of course. She couldn't know. I never told her about that sword or how I came to have it."
"And now you have it in your possession again," Keaton said. "I am pleased to have served you in retrieving what belongs to you."
The answering bark of laughter was sharp-edged, humorless. "As I recall," he muttered, "I gave you no choice, Keaton. Once you saw what I did to that slut you were f**king in your office, you broke easily enough."
Keaton felt no reaction to the reminder of his cowardice. He was detached from the whole event, freed of all the weaknesses of his former self. All that mattered to him now was doing what was needed, what his Master commanded of him.
"I will see to it that the task is carried out as you wish, Sire. Savannah Dupree will die."
"No. I think not." The vampire who owned Keaton's life and mind now--his soul itself--paused with unrushed deliberation. "I have a better plan. Find her. Bring her to me. Since she obviously is of some interest to the warrior, Gideon, she can help me finish a score he started centuries ago."
Take all that you want.
Savannah's tender offer pounded in Gideon's temples--in his blood--hours after they'd made love. He'd left her satiated and softly sleeping in the bedroom a short while ago, while he slipped out to the main room of the empty old house to work off some of his restless energy.
Shirtless, dressed only in his black fatigues, he went through a series of quick, sweeping combat maneuvers with the long dagger from his weapons belt. He kept his hands and body in much-needed motion. His mind churned on vivid recollections of the passion he'd shared with Savannah, earth-shaking passion that still had his veins lit up and electric. Other parts of his anatomy were running on a short leash too.
But undercurrent of the incredible pleasure he'd taken from Savannah was the guilt he felt for having hidden himself--his true self--from her, even while she had surrendered everything she had to him.
Take all that you want, Gideon.
"Fuck," he muttered, low beneath his breath. If she only knew how much he wanted.
He pivoted on his bare heel to make a savage swipe at an invisible opponent. Himself, or the Rogue who accosted Savannah tonight? He wasn't sure who was the bigger villain tonight.
He needed to tell her what he was. It would have to be Savannah's choice how she chose to think of him, after he gave her the truth she rightfully deserved a few hours ago.
The truth she deserved from the moment he first realized the pretty, innocent young student was a Breedmate, not a simple Homo sapiens female. Savannah deserved a hell of a lot more than he'd given her so far.
And if he was being honest with himself, she deserved more than he could ever hope to offer her as the mate of a male whose past was steeped in bloodshed and failure. A warrior whose future was pledged in full to the Order.
He needed to explain all of that and more to Savannah. Damn it, he'd meant to before things had gotten so far out of hand tonight. He'd let himself get too entangled, and now he was caught in a trap of his own making.