The body might be still, the voice low and even, but the eyes were those pits of eternal damnation again.

No matter how much he hated to admit it, Gideon couldn't move, could only hold that gaze. But because of that, he saw the darkness shift to something else.

“When I saw her in that alley, ready to burn herself to cinders, rage took over. I did what was necessary. I don't regret that, but you are very wrong, Gideon, if you think I haven't been tempted beyond endurance to allow her to mire herself in her fear and pain, cocooning her from the whole world, so she never has to stand on her own two feet again. But I can't even give her the luxury of time to grieve and heal. She's part of a world now that doesn't allow for that. We both know it.” Apparently the vampire was so motionless because the emotions he wouldn't show in his voice or body language, even now, were in danger of crushing him. But it was unmistakable, laden in every word.

Daegan closed his eyes, and Gideon wondered if vampires counted to ten for patience. Because when Daegan opened them, that compressed energy around him seemed less explosive. Slightly.

“Every made vampire must be brought before the Council within thirty days of their making for a validation ritual. Did you know that?”

Gideon shook his head.

“Because of the Council's stance, often justified, on the dangerous weaknesses of made vampires, it is absolutely essential that Anwyn not appear unstable before them. She is obviously not ready for the ritual, and may not be for some weeks to come. Perhaps never.”

Gideon studied the vampire's face. “So how do we handle that?”

“I am going to attend alone, convince them that her turning is a minor matter among other issues, and ask if they will give me temporary guardianship as her sire and overlord, rather than assigning her to a territory. I will also ask if they can accept her at the next Gathering, which is still several years away. The thirty days is usually mandatory, but there are some assignments they wish me to handle in Europe, closer to their home base. I can take care of those also, as a gesture of goodwill.” But given that someone on the Council had exposed his whereabouts, how far would that goodwill go?

Would they view this as a minor issue or something they could use against him? He wanted to ask, but already knew Daegan wasn't likely inclined to discuss behind-the-scenes Council issues with him. So Gideon focused on the worst possible outcome. “What if they don't agree? What if she has to go now?

Even if she goes in several years, what if the seizures aren't under control by then?”

“They'd treat her like an animal born mutated and deformed. They would order me to execute her.” Gideon straightened, his mind automatically cataloging the potential weapons in the room. “Not as long as I'm alive.”

“Nor I.” When Daegan held his gaze, that solidarity Gideon had felt one too many disturbing times with him locked in place, but now he was glad for it. “It doesn't matter if she speaks in tongues and gallops around Council chambers like a pony; they will not touch a hair on her head. I will not allow it. I will protect what's mine, even if I have to take every one of their heads to do it. My loyalty is to her. Not to the Council.”

Gideon tightened his jaw. “You said that like you meant it.”

“That's because I did.” His face altered, becoming steel. “I have to act as her sire, first and foremost, if she's going to survive this. You are going to give her what I can no longer. What I should have given her all along.”

The unyielding expression made the vampire appear bulletproof, but Gideon wasn't fooled. Course, he wasn't going to try to remove that armor, because if he started acting as if the guy had real feelings, he'd be tempted to shoot himself. Still, he owed him something, and he wasn't too proud to give it.

“Next time she wants to do something, and I'm not sure about it, I'll ask you. Not a permission thing, mind you. But it'd be stupid not to use the resources at hand. You know, to help her the best way possible.”

Daegan moved. He didn't come forward fast, but there was a deliberateness to his steps that made Gideon wary. He stopped with a foot between them. Those intense dark eyes bored into Gideon's, and as usual, he had to steel himself not to step back . . . or quell the inexplicable desire to move forward.

“You damn well better,” the vampire said softly. But his tone was milder, and from what Gideon read in those usually so secretive eyes, he decided not to get riled about it.

“You know, your responsibilities as sire aside, if you took advantage of soap and toothpaste, she might be nicer to you. You know how women are.”

Daegan showed fangs. “Sometimes I think nothing penetrates that rock head of yours.”

“I know the difference between the things you believe and the things you feel.” Hell, he was more practiced at it than most. Gideon could tell himself that guilt or a sense of honor was why he'd stayed throughout all of this. Why not? He'd been lying to himself so long, it had a comforting consistency to it.

If he lied to himself, he wouldn't have to face the truth about anything. The same way that, by telling himself he needed to be her sire, Daegan could just switch off his feelings for Anwyn.

The vampire gave him a curious look, his focus apparently shifting. “You should bear me ill will for the third-marking, but you don't.”

“No more ill will than usual.” Gideon shrugged. “You rushed the decision we both knew I was going to make. Whether it's the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life, we'll know soon enough. But this way, if I regret it, I can blame you instead of myself, right? So a win-win, as far as I'm concerned.” Daegan's lips tugged. “What is she doing?” he asked quietly.

Gideon focused, and a muscle worked in his jaw. “Sitting on the edge of the tub, having a good cry.

Giving herself hell for crying.” He paused. “She's hurting, Daegan. She needs you.”

“She despises me. That's for the best.”

“No, she doesn't. And no, it isn't. You told me she's the bravest person you know. Trust her to use the intelligence that goes with it. She's beating herself up now, about you and me, and herself. She needs the other side of your sword now. The gentler side.” Gideon spoke gruffly. “Hell, I wasn't completely unconscious during the marking. She couldn't see your face; I could. It tore your heart out to do what you did. Go see her, Daegan. I'll go hang out somewhere. She's in her room.”

“Don't think you can order me around, vampire hunter.” But Daegan gave him a light shove that took him back a step or two. “Go into my closet and get an extra shirt for when you ruin that one. That pungent T-shirt you were wearing earlier is mildewing. On your next outing, plan on buying a dozen of your $1.99 special tees.”

Gideon gave him a sardonic look, flipped him off. “Still trying to do some of that ordering shit yourself.

Piss off.” But he went to the closet, because Daegan was right. This T-shirt was getting rank as well.

“Stay away from my dress shirts, though,” Daegan called out. “They cost more than you're worth.”

“Yeah, right.” Out of sight in the walk-in, Gideon peered at the rows of mostly dark clothing, a function of the vampire's profession, he was sure, versus a macabre Goth vamp fashion sense. For just a moment, he imagined Daegan stepping in behind him while Gideon stood amid the masculine aroma of his clothes, amid the cool shadows. Anwyn would come in, and they'd surround him, none of them giving a damn who was in control, as long as they could touch and be touched . . .

Son of a bitch. He popped his neck painfully when he gave himself a sharp shake, and yanked the nearest tee off a rack. He stepped out, needing to get clear of that intimate territory of Daegan's clothes.

But when he stripped off his current shirt and began to shrug on the new one, Daegan stepped forward, arresting Gideon's motion.

Before Gideon could draw away, he'd hooked his fingers in the neck of the T-shirt, pulled it down far enough to his left so that he could pass his fingers over the top of the scarlet teardrop mark.

“Interesting. It's always different.”

His gaze flickered up to Gideon's face. For one, weighted moment, the touch Gideon was pretty sure Daegan had intended so casually felt intensely intimate. He froze, not sure what the hell to do with that, and wondered why he wasn't jerking away. Maybe because they'd dealt with so much these past few days, moving away from any touch that wasn't hostile seemed impossible, the way cockroaches and marsh grass looked appetizing if no other food was available.

Yeah, that explains it.In addition to the words that fell out of his mouth now, like the drool that came with severe brain damage.

“What you said, about your loyalty being to her before the Council. I believe you.” Daegan released him from the intense eye contact and withdrew his hand as well, giving him a short, brusque nod of acknowledgment. “Nothing is more important to me than her,” he murmured, his tone suggesting it was meant more for himself than for Gideon's ears. “I should have done things, handled many things, better, but I will put nothing before her. If I'd done that before, this never would have happened.”

When he gestured them to a nook in the corner that held two chairs and a table, Gideon took one of the seats, leaning forward. “You know that's different.”

“A lot of things are different.” A flash of bleak acceptance went through Daegan's eyes, the first real vulnerability Gideon had seen him reveal, but then it was gone, so quickly he doubted he'd seen it. “I'm not going to leave you without backup,” the vampire continued, his quiet tone replaced by a purposeful one. “During one of her recuperations, you spoke of Lord Brian. His work is not unknown to me—his paper about difficult transitions was how I knew to administer the sire's blood more frequently. Though he works under the sponsorship of the Council, I believe he has a peculiar loyalty to Lady Lyssa that will ensure his discretion. Would you agree?”