“You’ve definitely earned your grimoire, Sarah,” he said, flicking a glance in my direction.
“And my renewed trust.”
He arched the knife toward Thierry’s chest again, but I quickly moved toward him and grabbed his arm to feel the hard bicep underneath.
“What are you doing?” he snapped.
“Stopping you.”
“Let me finish him.”
“No.”
He frowned at me. “Let go of me or you won’t get your precious grimoire.”
“You can shove the grimoire.”
I clamped my grip down on Gideon’s wrist until the pain made him drop the knife.
“Sarah, what are you—” He gasped in surprise when I wrenched his head to the side and sank my fangs into his throat as the dark thirst swept over me. He weakly pushed back against me as I pressed him up against the brick wall—our positions the opposite of those we’d had in his hotel room.
My mind went blank to everything except the salty tang of blood that spilled into my mouth.
Almost blank. My hand sought out the pocket of his pants and I pulled out the
BlackBerry. I slipped it into the pocket of my jeans. He didn’t feel a thing. After all, he was a bit preoccupied dealing with my teeth in his neck.
Only a short taste, unfortunately—and not nearly long enough to transfer the vampire virus to him.
Thierry hauled me off him so forcefully that I staggered across the alley to whack my head against the hard wall, and I fell to the ground. It was the second time that day I’d hit my head.
But this time I wasn’t knocked unconscious. Something else happened. Thanks to the pain now ringing through my skull, the nightwalker fog cleared a little. Enough to allow me the chance to crawl on the ground until I found the gold chain. I scrambled to put it back on as quickly as I could, and my head immediately cleared.
I gasped for a breath of air. My heart began to beat again.
Thierry crouched next to me. His gray eyes behind the mask were filled with concern.
“Are you all right?” he demanded. “Did I hurt you?”
I blinked rapidly. Did he hurt me? Is that what he asked?
“I’m okay,” I managed. My eyes widened. “Gideon—”
I looked over to where I’d chomped on the hunter in question only to find that the alley was empty now except for the two of us.
And the bodies of the two hunters.
And the dark stain of Bruce the bouncer.
Thierry got to his feet before helping me to mine, and then grimaced in pain. He held a hand against his injured chest just under his heart. I could see the blood. There was a lot of it. Instead of hunger, my stomach twisted with concern.
“Gideon said the dead blood on the blade—”
“It’s fine.” It was the first time I’d ever heard that much pain in his voice. “It won’t heal as quickly as normal, but it’s fine.”
“You’re lying.”
He looked over at the bodies. “I need to call somebody to take care of this mess.”
He took a step back from me and faltered, then braced himself against the wall.
A sharp line of panic sliced through me. He so wasn’t fine. At all.
“Then call somebody,” I said. “But you’re coming home with me.”
That earned me a glare, but not an argument. I felt sick at the thought that Gideon had managed to hurt Thierry, but why was I surprised? That had been his goal—to kill the Red
Devil—just as it was his goal for me to turn him into a vampire tomorrow at midnight.
The man had a lot of goals.
In one fell swoop I’d betrayed his confidence and attached myself to his jugular—as well as siding with the Red Devil and thus diminishing my chances of ever getting my hands on that grimoire. Not a great way to win friends and influence people.
I wouldn’t think about what the repercussions would be just yet.
One thing at a time. I had to make sure Thierry was okay, whether or not he’d ever admit his true identity to me. Then I’d deal with Gideon. Because if he still wanted me to sire him tomorrow, he’d just experienced a sneak peek.
Despite his assurances that he was feeling just peachy keen—my words, not his—by the time he’d made a quick phone call to whoever might be the local go-to guy for corpse clean-up and we’d made our way back to George’s house, the “Red Devil” was very pale under his red mask. He even leaned on me slightly as we walked up the driveway. I knew he wouldn’t do that unless he was feeling pretty badly. After all, the closer he got, the more likely it was that I’d discover his big fat secret.
Obviously, Elvis had already left the building on that particular subject. Thierry just didn’t know it yet.
My head still ached from bashing it against the brick wall, and I also was dealing with the taste of Gideon’s disturbingly delicious blood still in my mouth, but Thierry’s current state of health was my number-one concern.
Fortunately, George wasn’t home. I knew he had his first shift at the strip club that evening and hoped he was getting over his odd mood enough to rake in the tips. Serving alcohol to a sea of horny human females amongst a bunch of half-dressed muscled men helped to get the cash flowing. I might know that from personal experience. No admissions here.
I nudged the front door open and helped Thierry inside. A small table light was on, but the overhead wasn’t so I made a move for the light switch. He took my hand in his to stop me.
“No more lights,” he said.
I looked at him through the near darkness. “Why? You want to make sure I don’t see you? Want to keep your identity a secret?”
“Something like that.”
I hissed out a breath, annoyed by his typical stubbornness. “Then keep your stupid mask on, but I need to see your wound.”
“Forget my wound. I’m fine.”