hand… He sighed and began his trek upstairs.
“I’m afraid the news will not be to your liking, Mistress,” he mentally transmitted. A shriek pierced his head, sending an icy chill of dread down his spine.
Chapter Eight
Hunger.
Two syllables.
One simple word.
But for a vampire, those six letters possessed the power to bend the mind of even the eldest creature of the night to its will. Guerin’s fangs bore into his lower lip. The copper taste of his own blood did little to sate the ravenous beast in his gut.
“Good. You’re coming around.”
Eve . On instinct, he inhaled deeply, drawing in her unique duo of fragrances—cinnamon vanilla. Mmm… Delicious and unsettling. They possessed the power to flip the switch on his hunger and divert his attention toward a desire of another kind: lust.
The ache in his fangs eased, and his incisors receded to a more tolerable position. He swallowed hard, working to find a hint of moisture in the desert he called a mouth. Judging from the strength and clarity of Eve’s voice, she’d fared better than he had.
He cracked one eye open, then another, and peered at his surroundings. Gray paneling encircled the room. Pale-yellow lighting glowed from a table at his right. A few feet away another small round table and two chairs sat beneath a heavily draped window.
Definitely not the Ritz, but at least he was silver cage–free, and getting out of here would prove much simpler. Because if he didn’t, it wouldn’t be long before the need to feed would haul his ass to the edge of his sanity.
Guerin rubbed a palm over his face, the stubble there way beyond a five o’clock shadow, and hoisted his aching and starved body in the direction of Eve’s voice. He blinked, and his heart stuttered even in its weakened state at the vision in front of him. Another lamp shone behind Eve, haloing a band of golden light around her raven hair.
An angel born from the womb of darkness? Was it even possible?
“Impressive,” she added from the wooden chair she’d placed near his bed. “I thought it would have taken much longer for you to recover from that amount of UV exposure.”
“What can I say?” Guerin drawled. “I’m an overachiever.” He nodded at the room around him. “Where are we?”
“Always the wise guy.” Eve glanced around the small quarters. “This is my backup place.” She settled her gaze on him. “A girl can never be over-prepared.” Eve threaded her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face. “Are you ever serious about anything?”
Guerin smirked. “Beautiful… Seriously, I would think that you’d like this side of me a hell of a lot better. It’s prettier.”
“What?” She tilted her head and tossed him a smug grin. “You don’t think I can handle the real Guerino Lombardi? The one who stays hidden behind the smart-ass remarks and charming smiles?”
A snort escaped his throat. “Handle it?” Guerin rolled onto his back and draped an arm over his eyes. “I’m sure Eve Devonshire can handle whatever is thrown at her.” After witnessing her talents for the past few days, psychic shock waves, walking in daylight, abilities he’d never seen even Kenric, a master vampire, wield, left no doubt the woman could handle whatever came her way. The genetic combination of a master vampire’s DNA crossed with an abnormally strong female vampire such as Marguerite had resulted in producing a hybrid offspring who could go toe-to-toe, and then some, with any vamp. And it was one mother of a turn-on. He sighed.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Which was?”
“The real Guerino? Who is he?”
“That wasn’t the question.” He slid his forearm away and turned his head toward her. “You asked if I thought you couldn’t handle it. And you got your answer.”
Eve’s expression cooled, right before she stood and nailed him with a hard glare. “No more games. Who the hell are you and what do you want with me?”
Guerin swung
“I’m afraid the news will not be to your liking, Mistress,” he mentally transmitted. A shriek pierced his head, sending an icy chill of dread down his spine.
Chapter Eight
Hunger.
Two syllables.
One simple word.
But for a vampire, those six letters possessed the power to bend the mind of even the eldest creature of the night to its will. Guerin’s fangs bore into his lower lip. The copper taste of his own blood did little to sate the ravenous beast in his gut.
“Good. You’re coming around.”
Eve . On instinct, he inhaled deeply, drawing in her unique duo of fragrances—cinnamon vanilla. Mmm… Delicious and unsettling. They possessed the power to flip the switch on his hunger and divert his attention toward a desire of another kind: lust.
The ache in his fangs eased, and his incisors receded to a more tolerable position. He swallowed hard, working to find a hint of moisture in the desert he called a mouth. Judging from the strength and clarity of Eve’s voice, she’d fared better than he had.
He cracked one eye open, then another, and peered at his surroundings. Gray paneling encircled the room. Pale-yellow lighting glowed from a table at his right. A few feet away another small round table and two chairs sat beneath a heavily draped window.
Definitely not the Ritz, but at least he was silver cage–free, and getting out of here would prove much simpler. Because if he didn’t, it wouldn’t be long before the need to feed would haul his ass to the edge of his sanity.
Guerin rubbed a palm over his face, the stubble there way beyond a five o’clock shadow, and hoisted his aching and starved body in the direction of Eve’s voice. He blinked, and his heart stuttered even in its weakened state at the vision in front of him. Another lamp shone behind Eve, haloing a band of golden light around her raven hair.
An angel born from the womb of darkness? Was it even possible?
“Impressive,” she added from the wooden chair she’d placed near his bed. “I thought it would have taken much longer for you to recover from that amount of UV exposure.”
“What can I say?” Guerin drawled. “I’m an overachiever.” He nodded at the room around him. “Where are we?”
“Always the wise guy.” Eve glanced around the small quarters. “This is my backup place.” She settled her gaze on him. “A girl can never be over-prepared.” Eve threaded her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face. “Are you ever serious about anything?”
Guerin smirked. “Beautiful… Seriously, I would think that you’d like this side of me a hell of a lot better. It’s prettier.”
“What?” She tilted her head and tossed him a smug grin. “You don’t think I can handle the real Guerino Lombardi? The one who stays hidden behind the smart-ass remarks and charming smiles?”
A snort escaped his throat. “Handle it?” Guerin rolled onto his back and draped an arm over his eyes. “I’m sure Eve Devonshire can handle whatever is thrown at her.” After witnessing her talents for the past few days, psychic shock waves, walking in daylight, abilities he’d never seen even Kenric, a master vampire, wield, left no doubt the woman could handle whatever came her way. The genetic combination of a master vampire’s DNA crossed with an abnormally strong female vampire such as Marguerite had resulted in producing a hybrid offspring who could go toe-to-toe, and then some, with any vamp. And it was one mother of a turn-on. He sighed.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Which was?”
“The real Guerino? Who is he?”
“That wasn’t the question.” He slid his forearm away and turned his head toward her. “You asked if I thought you couldn’t handle it. And you got your answer.”
Eve’s expression cooled, right before she stood and nailed him with a hard glare. “No more games. Who the hell are you and what do you want with me?”
Guerin swung
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