Part 10 (2/2)

He considered running after the train. If he didn't catch up to it en route, odds were good that he'd find it at its first stop along the way. Then what? Hop on board and search Savannah out among the other pa.s.sengers?

What would be the better tack once he found her: Trance her and carry her off the train while attempting to avoid the notice of a few hundred witnesses? Or plop his a.s.s into the seat next to her and give her a quick rundown on Breedmates, Rogues and other alien-sp.a.w.ned vampires right there on the Amtrak Number 59 to New Orleans?

Christ, what a disaster.

Not that he had a lot of choices here.

Gideon headed deeper into the terminal, mentally calculating potential outcomes of both less-than-ideal scenarios. As he stalked toward a corridor leading to the departure gates, he caught a whiff of something sickly sweet in the hallway.

Unmistakable to his Breed senses, the stench of a Rogue somewhere nearby.

Gideon glanced around, looking for the source of the odor. Nothing but humans in the station around him. Still, his nape p.r.i.c.kled with certainty. His gaze slid to a yellow maintenance cone blocking the door to the ladies' room across the hall. He strode closer, and the foul scent of a feral vampire strengthened.

His talent penetrated the wood and steel swinging door, locking on to a pair of heat sources inside. One was ma.s.sive and hulking. The other, tall and slender, frozen in place before the threat facing her.

Ah, f.u.c.k.

Savannah.

Gideon's entire body ignited in hot, ferocious rage. One second he was in the terminal hallway, the next he was in the closed public restroom, shoving past the overturned rubbish can and leaping on the Rogue--just as the suckhead was about to crowd into the stall to attack Savannah.

On a low growl, Gideon heaved the vampire away from Savannah. He drove the Rogue's spine into the wall of white sinks and dirty mirrors on the opposite side of the room. On impact, one of the old basins crashed to the floor, shattering on a heavy thump at Gideon's feet. Water sprayed from the broken spigot, hissing almost as fiercely as the feral vampire struggling to free itself of Gideon's unyielding hold.

The suckhead grunted and snarled, gnas.h.i.+ng its yellowed fangs. It reeked of Bloodl.u.s.t and the soured evidence of a recent feeding, but its amber eyes and thin, slitted pupils held the look of a ravenous beast still thirsting for blood.

That this beast had gotten so close to Savannah--mere seconds away from touching her, biting her, close enough to kill her--made Gideon's veins throb with the need to punish.

To eviscerate the son of a b.i.t.c.h who intended her harm.

And he would have, had Savannah not been in the room to witness it.

Her stricken face was reflected in the cracked gla.s.s of the mirror behind the Rogue's struggling bulk. Savannah's dark doe eyes were wide with terror, her pretty mouth dropped open in a silent scream as she stared at Gideon and the beast pinned between him and the restroom wall.

”Get out of here,” Gideon told her, ready to end the suckhead and loath to do it in front of her. ”Wait for me outside, Savannah. You don't want to see this.”

But she didn't move. Maybe she couldn't. Or maybe it was the sheer tenacity of the woman, her sharp, curious mind, that would not give in to fright when the need for answers was stronger.

The Rogue bucked and thrashed, trying to throw Gideon off. There was little time to hesitate. The din of the terminal outside the restroom door would mask most of the sounds of struggle, but he had to end this quickly, before they drew unwanted attention. Gideon pulled one of his long daggers from the sheath beneath his black trench coat.

The suckhead's amber eyes rolled toward the movement. Awareness of his impending death flashed across the open-mawed sneer. He roared, one filthy hand shooting out to the side of him, grabbing for some kind of weapon of his own.

He didn't get the chance.

Gideon s.h.i.+fted his hold and brought his dagger up between their bodies. With a hard thrust, the blade sank deep, plunging into the center of the Rogue's chest. The suckhead froze, panting rapidly, the twin coals of his eyes fixed on Gideon, hideous face sagging in defeat.

Gideon held the dagger in place as the diseased Breed vampire shuddered around the killing length of t.i.tanium-edged steel.

Death was immediate. Gideon dropped the big corpse as the t.i.tanium began to feed on the Rogue, dissolving it from the inside out. In mere minutes, the lump of dying flesh and bone would be nothing more than ash, then all evidence of its existence gone altogether.

Gideon turned to face Savannah. ”Are you hurt?”

Mutely, she shook her head. ”Gideon...who was he? What was he?” She drew in a ragged breath. ”My G.o.d, what the h.e.l.l is going on?”

Gideon stowed his bloodied blade and went to her. He pulled her trembling body under his arm and gently lifted her face. ”Did he touch you?”

”No,” she murmured. ”But if you hadn't been here...”

He kissed her, a brief, tender brush of his mouth against hers. ”I'm here. I will keep you safe, Savannah. Do you trust me?”

”Yes,” she whispered. ”I trust you.” She peered around him, to where the dead Rogue was swiftly disintegrating, clothing and all. ”But I don't understand any of this. How can any of this be real?”

”Come on.” He took her hand in his. ”There could be more where that one came from. We have to go now.”

He led her out of the restroom, back into the bustle of the station. It wasn't until they were standing at the curb in the cool night air that Gideon realized he was at a loss as to where to go.

Savannah's apartment was across town, several miles away. Not that it seemed like a smart idea to take her there. He doubted very much that the Rogue going after her at the bus station was a random thing. Whoever put the suckhead on her trail would no doubt have her apartment under watch too. And as much as Gideon wanted to know who that someone was, Savannah's wellbeing was his sole concern now.

Which should have been cause enough to send him with her to the nearest Darkhaven.

To be sure, that would be the most logical, pragmatic choice. But logic and pragmatism could get f.u.c.ked right about now, for all he cared about that.

He wasn't ready to yank Savannah away from harrowing situation and a thousand questions in need of answers, only to turn her over to the diplomatic arm of the Breed nation. In fact, he was finding it hard to imagine a scenario where he'd ever be ready to hand her over to someone else and walk away. He felt her soft fingers tighten around his broad palm as she stood beside him in the dark, waiting for him to make his choice.

Trusting him to keep her safe, as he promised he would.

Gideon glanced into her velvet brown gaze and knew a sudden, fierce protectiveness surge through him. Sending her away now was out of the question. It was his duty to walk her into his world gently. He bristled at the thought of letting some stranger out of the Enforcement Agency or civilian ranks step in where this woman was concerned.

His woman.

The claim swept up on him from somewhere deep in his subconscious, a sharp, primal thing. It throbbed in his veins, drumming hard in his ears with every beat of his heart.

And he needed her too.

After seeing her so close to danger back in the station--after realizing how quickly he might have lost her tonight--Gideon wanted nothing more than pull Savannah against him and never let her out of his sight again.

He wasn't going to push her off on the Darkhavens or the Enforcement Agency, even if that meant willfully ignoring Breed protocol.

Even if that meant blatantly defying Lucan's orders.

Gideon reached into the pocket of his black fatigues and withdrew the sc.r.a.p of paper Tegan had given him back the compound earlier that day. He read it for a second time. Just an address, nothing more.

An address that was only a few blocks away from where he stood now.

He wasn't sure what to expect when they got there, but at the moment it seemed to be his best and only option.

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