She pressed her lips together. “I want to go to my room. I'll drink it there, alone.” Daegan shook his head. “You'll do it here,cher . Where we can watch.”

“Like some kind of drug addict you can't trust. You're right. I do hate you.” She said it in a monotone and Daegan didn't react, other than to place the tumbler in her hand, curling her fingers around it with a look that said she would strongly regret throwing it at him, as her expression suggested she might be considering.

As they waited her out, watching her stare down into that cup, Gideon wondered how long Daegan would wait before he would in fact force it down her throat. She was likely due for another seizure soon, and having the sire's blood in her before then would give them an early indication of how much it would help. Curling his fingers in a lock of her hair, loose at her brow, he tugged lightly.

“Maybe you don't really want it in a cup. Maybe it'd be better to take it from my mouth.” Her attention shifted to him, and as it did, he began backing up, keeping that light, nonrestraining pressure on her fingers, just the tips. She followed him, one step, two steps, until he skirted the coffee table to reach the sofa. Daegan moved behind them, and Gideon sensed his gaze on his face, but he made his whole focus Anwyn and her intense blue-green eyes, filled with so much he couldn't tell what emotion was holding the upper hand.

He waited until she was seated next to him, and then he carefully took the tumbler from her hand.

“Ready?” he asked. “Remember, you're consuming your enemy. That's what this is.” Her jaw firmed in promising resolve. Daegan had taken a seat in the chair across from them, fingers steepled and damnable Sphinx expression firmly in place. Gideon wasn't fooled by it, though. He didn't care if the male was vampire or human; none of them fared well against a female cold shoulder. But he gave the guy reluctant credit—he wasn't letting that detract a bit from what he knew needed to be done.

He wasn't sure he could have refused Anwyn the right to drink the foul stuff in the privacy of her rooms, but he knew Daegan was right. Her brain was just too unpredictable. She might run it down the sink.

Lifting the tumbler to his lips, he let the blood fill his mouth. Though he tried not to inhale, it was hard not to get the scent once he'd brought it onto his taste buds. It was curious . . . There was a sour, fetid odor, the odor he expected for blood. But there was something else. He didn't want to say it was a pleasant smell, but there was an appealing element to it . . . something additional that almost made him want to swallow, for reasons he couldn't explain.

Fortunately, she didn't keep him waiting. Threading her fingers under his hair at his nape, she slid her other hand up his thigh, bracing herself. Stretching her slim neck, she brought her mouth to his.

He'd done it like this, thinking someone of her sensual nature might find it more appealing. Totally selfless, thinking only of her. That wry thought was lost as the tip of her tongue eased into the seam of his mouth, still closed against her open one, and delicately tasted what he had to offer. With a slow curl, she gathered more of the fluid onto her tongue as he carefully parted his lips, letting the blood begin to slip in a controlled way into her mouth. He felt the motion as she swallowed for the first time, and relaxed somewhat. Of course, other parts of him became far less relaxed as the heel of her hand inched up, her fingers stroking high on his thigh. She tilted her head, pressing closer into the kiss, letting more of the blood slide from his mouth into hers. He put his arm around her waist, bringing her closer, so she slid onto the knee closest to her, the hand on his thigh coming up to his shoulder to hold on.

He wondered what Daegan thought, watching the two of them, and then decided that was something he didn't want to know. But considering he'd put the tumbler down on the coffee table and had to pick it up again to do the next swallow, he was going to have to look toward the male. Instead, he felt the tumbler pressed into his hand by male fingers, and two hands guiding his arm into a bend up toward his face, so he didn't have to break the kiss until the last moment.

Daegan had moved to sit on the coffee table, his knees spread to accommodate Gideon's, the vampire's own knee pressed into Anwyn's hip where she sat on Gideon's thigh. Gideon turned his head while Anwyn moved to his cheekbone, over to his ear and the vein that pulsed beneath it. It leaped under her mouth, much like his cock did as her hand lowered, stroking him through denim, though for once his mind stayed with her mouth rather than migrating to his cock. If she actually marked him, would she bite him there? How would it feel? If the sire's blood worked better than they expected, would they even have to do it? And why did that give him a small, absurd feeling of disappointment?

It was because he was fucked-up. The only successful relationship he'd seen close-up these past couple of years was his brother's, with a fucking vampire queen. But, Christ, Anwyn's mouth tasted so good, blood or no blood. He gave her another mouthful, now experiencing three textures: that sour, repulsive one, the curiously pleasurable one, and the undeniable feast that was Anwyn's tongue and lips. Thanks to Daegan's steady hand, he didn't have to let go of her, his hands spanning the nip of her slender waist, thumbs on her rib cage, close to the curve of her breasts, fingers splayed out to feel the hint of womanly hips. He brought his mouth back to hers and the provocative dance started over again, her tongue coming in to tease his mouth open slowly, letting him offer her the nourishment.

This was the way so many animals fed each other, mouth to mouth. It took him back to that night with Jacob and Lyssa. He'd fallen asleep in the bed next to them, but woken to see Lyssa feeding on her servant. Jacob had still been human then. Through half-closed eyes, Gideon had seen her fangs go in, and his brother's arms curl protectively around her, even as his body tightened in desire and need, demonstrating pleasure at nourishing the woman he loved.

How could he look at it that way, when he'd seen vampires crouched over bodies they'd drained, lives they'd taken? But how could he look at it in that brutal, terrible way, when Anwyn was in his arms, needing what he had to offer, totally dependent on him, at least for this brief, precious second?

One last swallow, Daegan's fingers making a disturbing overlap with Anwyn's at his nape to hold him steady for it, and then that touch went away, and it was all Anwyn, though Gideon was conscious of Daegan still sitting on the coffee table, flanking the both of them. She threaded both hands into his hair to hold his skull, now increasing the ardor of her kiss, cleaning all the blood from his mouth with erotic sweeps along his teeth, the insides of his cheeks, against his tongue. She shifted so she straddled him, a lithe move that required little help from him, though he slid his hands down lower on her hips, feeling the silk of her robe. She wore nothing under it, and he dug into a soft buttock, groaning into her mouth as she rubbed herself against his cock, still imprisoned in his jeans.

Releasing his lips, she brushed her temple against his, an unexpected, tender sweep of her hair over his face. Opening his eyes, he saw Daegan set aside the rubber bands that had held it, his long fingers completing the task of pulling it free of the braid, letting it sweep over her shoulders. Gideon caught a thick handful as it fell forward, brushing it against his mouth, the strands slipping through his fingers as she tilted back, letting him see the tantalizing loose neckline of her robe. Curves of flesh displayed, and lower, her thighs bare almost to her hips by the fall of the satin. He could smell her arousal, and wanted her to take him inside, ride him to her release, find pleasure in using his body in the way they hadn't been able to experience in Atlantis.

Then he got that tickling foreboding on the back of his neck.No. She just had the blood. Give her a break . . . Just a few more minutes . . . Give hersmething that'll prove the sire's blood will keep the madness at bay.

But he couldn't fool her or himself. He put his hands on either side of her throat, capturing her attention.

She was leaning back, braced against Daegan's shoulder, because the angle at which he was sitting on the coffee table made it possible to cant against him that way without making eye contact. From her posture, it was obvious she was still holding herself from him, but Gideon thought it had moved into the hurt feelings as opposed to the anger mode, because he could feel her yearning to accept both of them.

“Another one's coming,” he murmured regretfully.

17

IT wasn't another one. It was another three that came within minutes of one another, and were so violent, they thrust wooden utensils from the kitchen into her mouth to keep her from slicing her tongue and lips repeatedly with her fangs.

Daegan had restrained her during all three, but during the second and third, they took her into the cell, so he could hold on to her in an enclosed space where there was less danger to herself or others if she broke away from him. He didn't use the chains on her at all, Gideon was glad to see. After the third one, when she was curled up on the floor, Gideon passed Daegan a blanket to tuck around her until she stopped shaking. Then he squatted outside the cell and Daegan on the inside, waiting to see if she would pull out of it or go to another. As they regarded each other silently, Gideon broke the silence first.

“So the blood hurt, rather than helped?”

“Yes and no.” Daegan shook his head. “She obviously has a bad reaction to it, and may react this way every time it's administered, but the properties of a sire's blood are unquestionably the only thing that staves off permanent madness.”

“Unless he already gave her a case of the perpetual crazies.” Gideon sighed. “So it's like chemo—it will make her terribly sick, but it's going to do its job.”

A muscle flexed in Daegan's jaw, but he nodded. He passed a hand over her hair, now plastered back to her skull with sweat and blood. “Are you sure, Gideon?” Gideon glanced at him. The tone of the voice told him the subject had changed. And he knew exactly what they were talking about, since it was clear that she wasn't going to do better on the sire's blood.

“I'm sure,” he said quietly.