Read Online A Touch of Midnight: A Midnight Breed Novella (Midnight Breed Vampire Romance) by Adrian Lara - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Adrian Lara
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came to hysterical women going off about woo-woo ESP abilities and supernatural creatures that couldn’t possibly exist outside slasher films and horror novels.
Gideon had been more than patient or understanding, in fact. He’d been a source of calm for her, more supportive than she ever could have hoped. Some part of her believed him when he said he could help her figure everything out. That he wanted to help her make sense of what she’d told him, even though inwardly he had to suspect she was more than a little touched.
There was a part of her that believed Gideon to be capable of anything he said, anything he promised. He simply projected that air of total, unswerving command. He filled any room he was in, radiated an indefinable power. His intelligent blue eyes told anyone who looked in them that he possessed the wit and experience of a man twice his age.
Just how old was he, anyway?
Savannah had mentally placed him around thirty, but she couldn’t be certain. He never did answer when she asked him his age that first night in the library. He seemed too worldly, too wise somehow, to be older than her by just a decade-plus. He had to be much older than she had assumed, yet his face had no lines, no scars or blemishes to betray his years.
And his body...it felt built of solid muscle and strong, unbreakable bone. Ageless, like so much else about him.
And now that she was thinking about it, there was something distantly, oddly familiar about Gideon too. She looked at him and felt a niggling of her senses, as if they’d met somewhere before, impossible though it was.
Despite the enthusiasm of her instincts--or other parts of her anatomy--she was positive the first time she’d ever met Gideon was two nights ago in the Abbey Room of the Boston Public Library. Until two nights ago, he’d been a stranger to her. A stranger who didn’t deserve to have her problems, real or imagined, dumped on him.
Which is why, when Amelie called early that morning to tell Savannah she’d purchased a bus ticket home for her and had it waiting at the station for her later that evening, Savannah had agreed it was probably best for her to return to Louisiana for a while.
She had one more appointment to take care of on campus, then she would be going back to her apartment to finish packing. She wished there was a way for her to see Gideon before she left, say goodbye at least. But short of camping out at the library in the hopes that he might show up there again this afternoon, she had no means of locating him before she had to leave for the bus station tonight.
Maybe Mrs. Kennefick knew more about him? She’d worked in the library records room all her adult life; if Gideon was a patron, maybe Mrs. Kennefick could give Savannah his full name or address. It was a place to start, anyway. Savannah could call and ask as soon as she wrapped up at the English department.
The thought put such a current of hope through her veins, Savannah hardly noticed the white Firebird rolling up behind her at a slow crawl on the street parallel to her on the sidewalk. The passenger side window was rolled down, disco music sifting out from the car.
Annoyed, Savannah glanced over, squinting in the sunlight as the driver reduced his speed even more to keep pace with her.
He was the last person she expected to see today. “Professor Keaton?”
“Savannah. How are you?”
“Me?” she asked, incredulous. He braked to a stop and leaned across the seats as she bent and peered to have a closer look at him. “I’m okay, but what about you? What are you doing out of the hospital? I heard you weren’t expected to be released for a week or more.”
“Been out for the past hour. Thank God for the miracle of modern medicine.” His smile seemed weak, not quite reaching his eyes. He appeared pale and wan, his tanned skin kind of waxy against the dark color of his moustache and heavy brows. He looked haggard and exhausted, like a clubber coming off a rough
Gideon had been more than patient or understanding, in fact. He’d been a source of calm for her, more supportive than she ever could have hoped. Some part of her believed him when he said he could help her figure everything out. That he wanted to help her make sense of what she’d told him, even though inwardly he had to suspect she was more than a little touched.
There was a part of her that believed Gideon to be capable of anything he said, anything he promised. He simply projected that air of total, unswerving command. He filled any room he was in, radiated an indefinable power. His intelligent blue eyes told anyone who looked in them that he possessed the wit and experience of a man twice his age.
Just how old was he, anyway?
Savannah had mentally placed him around thirty, but she couldn’t be certain. He never did answer when she asked him his age that first night in the library. He seemed too worldly, too wise somehow, to be older than her by just a decade-plus. He had to be much older than she had assumed, yet his face had no lines, no scars or blemishes to betray his years.
And his body...it felt built of solid muscle and strong, unbreakable bone. Ageless, like so much else about him.
And now that she was thinking about it, there was something distantly, oddly familiar about Gideon too. She looked at him and felt a niggling of her senses, as if they’d met somewhere before, impossible though it was.
Despite the enthusiasm of her instincts--or other parts of her anatomy--she was positive the first time she’d ever met Gideon was two nights ago in the Abbey Room of the Boston Public Library. Until two nights ago, he’d been a stranger to her. A stranger who didn’t deserve to have her problems, real or imagined, dumped on him.
Which is why, when Amelie called early that morning to tell Savannah she’d purchased a bus ticket home for her and had it waiting at the station for her later that evening, Savannah had agreed it was probably best for her to return to Louisiana for a while.
She had one more appointment to take care of on campus, then she would be going back to her apartment to finish packing. She wished there was a way for her to see Gideon before she left, say goodbye at least. But short of camping out at the library in the hopes that he might show up there again this afternoon, she had no means of locating him before she had to leave for the bus station tonight.
Maybe Mrs. Kennefick knew more about him? She’d worked in the library records room all her adult life; if Gideon was a patron, maybe Mrs. Kennefick could give Savannah his full name or address. It was a place to start, anyway. Savannah could call and ask as soon as she wrapped up at the English department.
The thought put such a current of hope through her veins, Savannah hardly noticed the white Firebird rolling up behind her at a slow crawl on the street parallel to her on the sidewalk. The passenger side window was rolled down, disco music sifting out from the car.
Annoyed, Savannah glanced over, squinting in the sunlight as the driver reduced his speed even more to keep pace with her.
He was the last person she expected to see today. “Professor Keaton?”
“Savannah. How are you?”
“Me?” she asked, incredulous. He braked to a stop and leaned across the seats as she bent and peered to have a closer look at him. “I’m okay, but what about you? What are you doing out of the hospital? I heard you weren’t expected to be released for a week or more.”
“Been out for the past hour. Thank God for the miracle of modern medicine.” His smile seemed weak, not quite reaching his eyes. He appeared pale and wan, his tanned skin kind of waxy against the dark color of his moustache and heavy brows. He looked haggard and exhausted, like a clubber coming off a rough
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