“Where is everyone?” Suspicion clings to my throat.Does he suspect—
“Mr Blake ordered the entire building empty tonight.” Sinead’s lip curls in what might’ve been disgust. “He says you might be embarrassed when everyone hears you scream in pleasure.”
Oh, sweet Gideon. You may be good, but it’s you who’ll be screaming.
Sinead’s phone beeps. She checks her notifications, and I see a series of orders on the Sanctus app. Requests for her blood. She clicks on Alyra’s name, then pockets her phone when she sees me looking, spins on her heel, and stomps off.
With every minute that goes by standing in that empty hallway, the ice around my heart grows stalactites that dig into my ribs. Just as I’m about to tear the sword from my neck and run back to my place, the elevator doors slide open, and there he is.
Gideon steps out, looking absolutelysinful,in a dark suit that’s pure 1930s Parisian gangster chic. I’m reminded of the first night he caught my eye at my theatre, a human unaware that he was the mouse trapped in a cage for the amusement of the cats.
And now…
Now he is a feline, sleek and predatory.
“You’re ten minutes late.” I frown as he holds the elevator door open with his hand. A Cartier watch glitters on his wrist. “That means you forfeit your prize.”
“We never agreed to those rules.” He pouts. “Besides, I was always taught to show up fashionably late to pick up a lady. It gives her extra time to primp and hide the dagger in her purse.”
“Joke’s on you, Blake. I’m not carrying a purse. I have no intention of paying for a single part of tonight’s escapades.”
He frowns. “Then where will you keep your revenge dagger?”
I smirk, and the stalactites melt. Just a little. I cover the pendant on my throat with my hand. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
“I love it when you talk dirty.”
He gestures to the elevator. I step inside, willing my glass heart not to shatter too early, no matter what Gideon does or says. I need to withstand the onslaught of his charms, or I’ll talk myself out of this. It shouldn’t be too difficult. It isGideon,after all.
Gideon gets in behind me and presses his hand into the small of my back, shifting me aside so he can press his thumb to the small electronic pad.
Warmth fizzes up my spine, something that happens too often when Gideon is touching me. The elevator starts so smoothly that I hardly notice the movement.
My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth. The sword necklace weighs a hundred kilos.
“You said you had something to show me.” I need to fill the silence with bickering before I scream at him to run from me. “What grand gesture have you prepared tonight? Are you going to fly me by helicopter to the top of the Great Pyramid, where you have blood cocktails for two waiting?”
“No grand gesture.” Gideon tries to smile, but it comes out wobbly. “Although I’m taking notes about the pyramid date.”
“Please don’t. I don’t appreciate sand in my blood.”
“Noted.” He runs a hand through his golden hair. “Actually, maybe tonightisa grand gesture. But it wasn’t meant to be. I mean, maybe I did mean it, in my dreams, when I wished so fervently that I’d get a second chance.”
“You’re babbling.”
“I’m nervous.”
“Intriguing.” I straighten as the doors slide open. “I like you nervous.”
At first, I’m greeted with a darkness so gloomy and complete that I’m certain the elevator has taken us to the wrong floor. But then the lights slowly go up, revealing Gideon’s private Sanctus Club – a piece of his soul he’s offered me.
No, not a piece ofhissoul.
A piece ofmine.
I suck in a breath as I step into the club, taking in the details that are so familiar to me even after all this time. The velvet sofas trimmed with gold. The crystal absinthe fountains sitting on tables inlaid with tortoiseshell. The white grand piano beneath one spotlight and the red clawfoot bathtub where Catherina and I once performed the CountessBathory routine. The curtained confessional booths that surround the narrow balcony with the ironwork railing. Dark corners and romantic nooks begging to be sullied with wanton acts. Monstrous stone sculptures of saints and gods above the empty stage.
It’s impossible.
